One Hundred Word Fiction

“Stick out your tongue,” he said.

Her heart beat faster, but she did.

“Now stay there on your hands and knees, eyes forward, while I retrieve something.”

He walked behind her. The floorboards creaked and the cabinet doors clattered. She heard him tear at some plastic and then heard a long knife “slick” out of the block she knew lay behind her on the countertop. “Thock, thock,” struck the knife against a cutting board. She heard him turn round and then saw the knife beside her on the butcher’s block.

“Close your eyes.”

Then it was on her tongue: chocolate.

Don't bother.

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