Another random prompt to work 3 particular words into a story.
There was so much thrill in a first date. Getting to know someone, those rushing, dizzy feelings you get in your stomach and head.
Dinner was great. He treated, of course. He was such a gentleman, opening doors, seating me and seemingly hanging on my every word. Not that I didn’t let him speak, he spoke just as much. We traded old romantic horror stories. The crazy ex-boyfriends and ex-girlfriends. The first kisses, the first heartaches.
For dessert he treated me to strawberries in a heavy cream. It was positively heavenly. We had coffee, leisurely talking until we noticed we were the only ones left at the restaurant and that the staff seemed to be hovering for the check to be paid and for us to make our exit.
We both chuckled over it as he walked me back to my apartment. I had told him before we even went out, that I had no intention of inviting him up, not until I got to know him better and was more comfortable with him. He agreed to that, and after the stories we had shared over dinner, he could understand me reasons.
That still didn’t stop him from making innuendo here and there. He winked at every one, just letting me know he was kidding.
He convinced me to take a ‘shortcut’ through the park to my apartment. I was apprehensive at first, but then I thought, ‘why not, I have a big strong guy with me, no one would mess with us…’.
What a horrible decision. A stranger didn’t attack us, but he did. He turned on me. He shoved me into the brush and tried ripping my clothes from me. I guess all those innuendo he was tossing at me were quite jokes afterward.
I kicked him hard in the groin and made a run for it. I screamed, but that didn’t really help much in this city. Most people ignored it, bolted their doors and closed their blinds.
I found a maintenance shed. It was locked, but I ran around back to hide. I found a metal rod, gripping it like a baseball bat.
It didn’t take long at all for him to find me. I had left a trail in the dew drenched grasses.
When he confronted me, I swung the rod with all my might, clocking him in the shoulder.
That made matters worse. He was talking to me. IT wasn’t yelling or ranting or raving. It was calm, as if he were talking to a lover.
He stepped toward me so quick, grabbing my metal rod and snatching it out of my hands, tossing it away while making a quick movement toward my mid-section.
I hadn’t felt a thing at first.
But now, I’m looking down. The front of my pale green dress is turning really dark. Blood. I looked to him. He was holding a very large hunting knife. Its long blade gleamed crimson in the pale light.
I looked down again at my stomach area as I felt things falling to the ground at my feel. I felt dizzy and woozy. So unsteady. I tried to see what it was that was dropping at my feet.
Was that strawberries and cream?