by Kristin Lennox

Charlie peeked through the kitchen door: his mother was at the stove, humming, stirring a tantalising garlic tomato sauce, by the aroma. Sneaking up behind her, Charlie zapped her with the taser.

Duct-taped to a chair, the creature thrashed, flashing rapidly through forms like a vintage home movie: Charlie’s mother, Grandma Ruth, Mr Bradford from next-door… Charlie could feel tendrils probing his memories, searching for that one image that would earn his trust. He zapped the creature again–it sagged, caught somewhere between Aunt Louise and Weird Al.

“Know how I knew?” Charlie offered. “My mom can’t cook for shit.”

Kristin Lennox

Kristin is delighted to have had several drabbles published by Black Hare Press. She’s also a voice actor, and when she’s not talking to herself in her padded room (home studio), she tries to get the voices out of her head and onto the page.