Skinned

Again, the stupid Craving had taken over, and I was hovering over an open cooler before I realized it.

I should have been at the table. I should have been waiting for him. I should have had the Brand of Saint Bellemare in my peanut butter fingers, but I hadn’t done any of that.

Instead, I was standing in a t-shirt and underwear, shoving uncooked pasta in my mouth and sucking down with glee the few weevils that had been bold enough to claw their way to the surface of that family-sized box.

This was not the way to set a trap for the monster currently standing outside my apartment door. 

Do you want to end up like Mom? Because if you do, this is exactly how you do it.

The knob turned slowly. I’d left it unlocked. Of course I’d left it unlocked. I wanted him to come here, to finish what the mark on my side had started.

I wanted him to do that because this was a paying job, and I was tired of peanut butter toast and weevil-pasta.

Still, both of those would be luxuries compared to the bloody flesh that would make up my diet if I didn’t do something—fast.

Pocket Pulp books are short stories (30-50 pages) published in a 4x6 inch paper back. They've got all the excitement of a longer Martin tale but are perfect for a single sitting. Get them while they last!