DAUGHTER OF PEACHES - R.S. BOHN
Peaches danced in the street one last time, body jumping to the beat of a semi-automatic. Calvin peeled off, safe behind a murdered-out hulk of Detroit metal. He forgot Peaches had a kid; ten years later, she’s on stage, high above on silver stilettos. “You Calvin, right?” she purrs when she’s on his lap in the Champagne Room. He nods, grabs her hips and grinds. “Yeah. How you doin’, baby?”
“Just peachy,” she whispers.
She leaves behind the wig, takes the knife. But dancing’s in her blood now...
BIO: R.S. lives in a suburb outside of Detroit, where she writes flash fic that isn't usually flashy, and sometimes isn't even fiction. You can find her riding solo at R.S. Bohn.
2 hours ago