by R.J. Hunt
On the Tenth Day of Christmas, my lover took my hands.
Led me into a pitch-black room, revealed her festive plans.
At first I thought my dizziness caused by heavy drinking.
But as my lover tied me down, concern crept into thinking.
She’s not my lover after all, this woman of the night.
She drugged my drink, I cannot move, or even scream my plight.
Paralysed from head to toe, this felt extremely wrong.
The lights returned, my lover smiled, clutching metal tongs.
She prised away my fingernails, each one oh-so slowly.
Squelching, bleeding, gooey nails, dropping them below me.
R.J. Hunt is an Engineer from Nottingham who dabbles in drabbles and fiction. He likes dark stories, sci-fi and fantasy. He is currently working on his second draft of a story about mind-controlling Gods.
Twitter – @RJHuntWrites