And already, we’re in the middle of January, which means time for the first song flash fiction of 2016. I swear I’ve entered some kind of time portal, which is sucking the time away faster, but… Anyway, this month the song is Creep, by Radiohead. It’s a really cool song musically—a bit depressing lyrically, but all good I suppose. If you’d like to give it a listen, here’s the youtube video, otherwise, let’s begin…


“For the love of God, Kent, can we please listen to something else?”

Kent Foster glanced at Seth, arching his brow as his buddy reached for the radio, flicking through a dozen stations. “You got a problem with my choice of music? I thought you liked Radiohead?”

“It’s not the band, jerk, it’s the song. First, it’s freaking Coldplay with Fix You, then Great Big World with inarguably the saddest fucking song ever written and now Creep. Dude, don’t you think we’ve had enough of the depressing shit?”

Kent shrugged. “I just like the way it rises and falls. Didn’t stop to analyze it.”

“Since when? You overanalyze everything. Besides, it’s the damn title. I don’t care how good the band is that song title is just…”


Seth rolled his eyes, glaring at him. “Seriously? You’re fucking hysterical, Kent.”

Kent grinned. “It’s just a song, Seth. Lighten up.”

“We just spent two weeks tracking then killing a rogue shifter. Month before that unearthing a vampire nest. I can’t remember the last time we had a day off. Hell, a normal day.”

“Normal’s overrated.”

“Normal would be nice for a change.” Seth motioned to the radio. “So sue me if I’d rather listen to something that doesn’t remind me of everything we’ve lost. Been forced to leave behind. How every damn failure only serves to strengthen the notion that maybe we really aren’t good enough.”

Kent glanced at his friend. “Are you okay? Someone ruffie your coke or something?”

“Don’t sit there and tell me you don’t think about shit like this. I know you do. I hear you mumbling to yourself when you think I’m asleep. You’re just as messed up as I am. Maybe more so.”

“Sorry, bro, but you’re mistaking me with someone who has any fucks to give.”

“Cut the crap, Kent. You give all the fucks.”

Kent snorted. “Fine. I care about helping people. Stopping creatures that develop a taste for blood. But not when it comes to self-analyzing. I don’t need to measure up to anyone else’s idea of worth. I do my job, release a bit of steam when I can…pretty simple if you ask me. And if others don’t like it, that’s their problem.”

“You are so full of it. But, by all means, keep pretending if it helps you sleep at night.”

Kent winked at him. “Only sleep during the day. You know that.”

Seth groaned as his phone blared above the music. “Great. That’s probably another damn case.”

“No rest for the wicked, and all that.” Kent nodded at him. “Can you get that before I have to listen to that rendition of Hallelujah again, please? It’s not even the good one.”

“It’s Bon Jovi. You really are musically challenged, you know that?” He swiped his finger across the surface. “Mulder. If you want Scully you’ll have to ring him.”

“You’re such an ass.” He focused on the road, listening to Seth’s side of the conversation. Great, it sounded as if the guy was arranging for some kind of sexual hook up with a fellow hunter. Which meant another dive motel Kent would have to spend the night in while Seth got to sleep with some hottie he’d met on one of their previous cases.

“Sure, baby. I’ll meet you there, say, midnight? Perfect. Room one oh nine. Got it.”

Kent glared at Seth. “She’s probably a newly turned werewolf.”

Seth shrugged. “Moon’s no longer full. As long as she keep wearing skin, I’m cool. Besides, she’s hotter than the damn sun.”

“Maybe you can get matching tags for your collars.”

“Just shut up and drive.”

Kent bit back his retort. He hated to admit it, but Seth deserved a night off. Hell, a year of one-night stands wouldn’t come close to what either of them truly needed. He just didn’t want to admit he was jealous. Or maybe just lonely. Or that Seth had hit too close to home when he’d turned off the damn Radiohead song. That maybe, Kent was the creep. The one who didn’t measure up. Who wasn’t special enough to ever find even a hint of happiness. That his phone rarely rang with anything other than a description of bloody corpses or lost children.

He glanced at Seth. Lucky bastard. He just hoped the unsettling feeling in his gut was the jealousy talking and not some weird kind of premonition. That Seth wasn’t, actually, walking into some kind of trap. Kent shook off the thoughts. Just his imagination kicking in. Just because most doors hid creatures that wanted to eat them didn’t mean a few didn’t lead to paradise. Even if it was a room stuck in the seventies and the euphoria only lasted a few hours.


And that’s it for me. Sorry, but I’m nursing some silly complications from a concussion I got snowboarding, and honestly, I’m finding it so damn hard to concentrate. let alone write. Who knew the screen was so bright 😉 Please check out the other ladies and see what they came up with.

Bronwyn Green |  Jessica Jarman  |  Jessica De La Rosa  |  Paige Prince




  1. Oooooh, poor Kent. He needs to get some…more than “some” he needs to get A LOT…from Seth…if ya catch my drift.

    Excellent work–ESPECIALLY with a concussion–jeez!

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