by Derrick Lin
My lover wraps me in her embrace and pleasures every bit of my flesh except for the risen wheal on the smooth skin of my forearm half way between my elbow and my wrist. Sometime during the night, a lady mosquito had pricked me with her sharp proboscis, sucking my blood, filling her abdomen. “It was not my fault,” I say. “But you enjoyed it,” she says jealously and I can not look her in the eyes because we both know she is right. Her wings buzz as she rises and turns and I wonder if she is leaving me, but instead she backs into me and her barbed stinger pierces my heart. Both of us find it difficult to breathe.
Derrick Lin occasionally takes the stories buzzing in his head and smashes them onto paper to see what they look like. Previous splatters have landed in flashquake, 971 Menu and Bewildering Stories.