Sticky Fingers

My latest in the Micro Bookends weekly flash fiction contest; first word (blueberry), last word (hill), respectively with 110 words max in response to the above photo provided by Esben Theis Jensen. 

My entry:

Blueberry juice dripped off of Hank’s fingers, as did blood. Jamie’s blood, to be precise.

“Nothing against ya, babe, just hungry. Mama used to plop a whole wagon-sized bunch of blueberries on the biggest pancakes your pretty little green eyes would ever surely see,” Hank said, to her lifeless body.

He licked his fingers, his tongue moved in around the wrinkle, slurping up the juice and Jamie’s blood. Both were bitter in their own way; her blood a bit banal.

“I hear there’s a small diner up over the hill. Maybe they have serviceable pancakes. Whatcha think Jamie?”

She said nothing.

“From my perspective, it sure is a pretty hill.”

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