One Born Every Minute

by William Morgan


It’s said there’s one born every minute. That’s me. I was played well.

The lady in red wasn’t attracted to me. To me?  Who’s bald , a tad fat, with the personality of a warped plank?   Her ruby red lips mesmerized me into stupidity. When her mouth parted and I saw her fangs? It was too late.

She’s lapping at my savaged throat like a kitten at it’s first bowl of milk.


Marybell, forgive me. Brian,…son…..oh…head’s light….heart’s slowing…strange, dying’s not what I imagined, feared… Marybell, my love, I…I………………..

can’t wait to see you again.

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