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Her Second Visit
A Thursday Prompt story
© 2022 by Walter Reimer
Prompt: Sands Fall by Wirez
A sequel to Knock! Knock!
“Hello, Dan.”
The weasel turned, stared, and did a double take. “Y-“
The canine femme smiled. “Yes, Dan. It’s me.” She was exactly as he recalled her from their first encounter two years earlier; slightly shorter than he was, with ebon fur so dark that it seemed to soak up the light from the streetlamps and neon signs, wearing black denim trousers and a black t-shirt with the words When You Least Expect Me in white. “You haven’t missed me, have you?” she asked, her piercing gray eyes bright against her black fur.
Dan Parsons gulped, but her smile was reassuring. At least she wasn’t showing her teeth. “Would you be disappointed if I said No?”
She giggled. “Of course not. You have your life to live, after all.” A pause. “Or did.” Dan’s eyes went wide and she added, “I did tell you that we’d meet again.”
He gulped again, glancing left and right. Around them, small groups of furs went about their lives, going to the theater or having dinner or looking for the next bar on their pub crawl. “D-Does that mean – I’m – “
The canine touched his lips with a fingertip. “Remember what I said. I can come as a friend, or as a predator.”
The weasel slowly got himself under control, as everything he’d been putting off, or wanting to say in his podcast, suddenly crowded forward in his mind and demanded priority. He pushed it back with an effort and asked her, “So, which are you today?”
“A friend.” She giggled as he sighed in relief. “Doesn’t let you off the hook, though, but we have a few moments.” The canine femme glanced around, ears swiveling, before she looked up. “And here we go.”
It was close to nine at night, but the sky suddenly lit up like it was noon, only for the light to fade dramatically, replaced by a bright ball.
Simultaneously, all of the lights went out and Dan’s cell phone gave an almost despairing blat. He fished it from a pocket and poked at the screen. It was dead, and in the darkness he could hear scattered voices.
He turned back to the femme, whose gray eyes were bright in the gloom. “What was that?”
“The first blow,” she explained. “The rest are on the way.” She blinked. “Two minutes.”
“Two – “ Dan looked around frantically at the shadowy crowd around him, aware of seconds ticking away. “I thought you were after me.”
“Death never plays favorites, Dan. One minute. I may sound cliched, but any last words?”
And as the seconds trickled away, Dan Parsons thought . . . and made a decision.
He seized Death by her arms, pulled her close and kissed her.
A bright light, brighter than the Sun . . .
end
A Thursday Prompt story
© 2022 by Walter Reimer
Prompt: Sands Fall by Wirez
A sequel to Knock! Knock!
“Hello, Dan.”
The weasel turned, stared, and did a double take. “Y-“
The canine femme smiled. “Yes, Dan. It’s me.” She was exactly as he recalled her from their first encounter two years earlier; slightly shorter than he was, with ebon fur so dark that it seemed to soak up the light from the streetlamps and neon signs, wearing black denim trousers and a black t-shirt with the words When You Least Expect Me in white. “You haven’t missed me, have you?” she asked, her piercing gray eyes bright against her black fur.
Dan Parsons gulped, but her smile was reassuring. At least she wasn’t showing her teeth. “Would you be disappointed if I said No?”
She giggled. “Of course not. You have your life to live, after all.” A pause. “Or did.” Dan’s eyes went wide and she added, “I did tell you that we’d meet again.”
He gulped again, glancing left and right. Around them, small groups of furs went about their lives, going to the theater or having dinner or looking for the next bar on their pub crawl. “D-Does that mean – I’m – “
The canine touched his lips with a fingertip. “Remember what I said. I can come as a friend, or as a predator.”
The weasel slowly got himself under control, as everything he’d been putting off, or wanting to say in his podcast, suddenly crowded forward in his mind and demanded priority. He pushed it back with an effort and asked her, “So, which are you today?”
“A friend.” She giggled as he sighed in relief. “Doesn’t let you off the hook, though, but we have a few moments.” The canine femme glanced around, ears swiveling, before she looked up. “And here we go.”
It was close to nine at night, but the sky suddenly lit up like it was noon, only for the light to fade dramatically, replaced by a bright ball.
Simultaneously, all of the lights went out and Dan’s cell phone gave an almost despairing blat. He fished it from a pocket and poked at the screen. It was dead, and in the darkness he could hear scattered voices.
He turned back to the femme, whose gray eyes were bright in the gloom. “What was that?”
“The first blow,” she explained. “The rest are on the way.” She blinked. “Two minutes.”
“Two – “ Dan looked around frantically at the shadowy crowd around him, aware of seconds ticking away. “I thought you were after me.”
“Death never plays favorites, Dan. One minute. I may sound cliched, but any last words?”
And as the seconds trickled away, Dan Parsons thought . . . and made a decision.
He seized Death by her arms, pulled her close and kissed her.
A bright light, brighter than the Sun . . .
end
Category Story / General Furry Art
Species Weasel
Size 120 x 92px
File Size 45.7 kB
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