Funk-N-Fiction

This morning, Tere Michaels is bringing a magical, beachside bonfire story to our Halloween Flash Fiction event.

Bonfire Rules by Tere Michaels

Rule One of the Yearly Bonfire: Dress warmly. October at the beach isn’t for the faint of heart.
Rule Two of the Yearly Bonfire: Bloodletting is strictly metaphorical. Don’t rile up the vegans.
Rule Three of the Yearly Bonfire: No plus ones. You’ll find your person/people here.

Miriam stood in the copse of trees overlooking the bonfire, waiting for her cue. Generations of the women in her family had held this role, worn the green dress, paraded around the bonfire, supervised the blood ritual, then raised a cup to signal the party could begin.

They didn’t cut a human-mammal-bird because they’d progressed, but the orgy? No one complained about that.

The sparks from the bonfire crackled into the dark. Above them, a full moon lit up the water. Waves crashed, the wind swirled, and frankly, Miriam couldn’t have asked for a better atmosphere.

A few minutes later, Miriam felt someone watching her. The women were down by the fire; she was alone.

Except she wasn’t.

A few yards away stood a man. A beam of moonlight lit him; his hair was military-cut, his cheekbones diamond-sharp, and he wore jeans and a plaid jacket. Miriam blinked.

She walked toward him, boots crunching in the leaves.

“Hello,” Miriam called. “This is a private event, sir. I must ask you to leave.”

She stopped a few feet away.

“Sir?” Miriam tucked her right hand in the folds of her cape, the knife handle firm under her fingers. To hell with the vegans, someone was going to get bloodlet all over the damn place tonight.

“Is this the singles event?” The man spoke quietly, his voice rough but gentle. “I uh…I saw the flyer but didn’t write down the details, and so I walked from the parking lot, followed the flames, and uh…”

Miriam bit her lip. Up close, he felt quiet and confused, so she moved her hand away from her knife.

“No, I’m so sorry. Your event must be in the other direction.” Miriam smiled politely. “You should head back before you miss all the ladies! Or the gentlemen! Or both. I make no judgments.”

The man smiled, and Miriam felt something shift under her feet.

“I’m Miriam,” she said, for no reason at all.

“Callum,” he responded, extending his hand. “Maybe once your party is done, you could stop by.”

Miriam demurred but shook his hand anyway. “I’m going to be busy.”

Callum smiled, gracious, the dimples. “Then maybe breakfast?”

“I don’t think you need a singles event,” she said, dropping his hand then stepping back. “I can’t imagine you not charming the hell out of everyone you meet.”

He “awe-shucked” her, tilting his head. He even kicked the sand beneath his boots.

“Have a lovely evening,” Miriam murmured, turning with a flare of her cape.

“See you around,” Callum called as Miriam returned to her perch.

Someone was chanting. Someone else was throwing herbs into the fire. The singing got louder. The youngest in the crowd pressed red paint onto everyone’s hands with a sable brush.

Miriam closed her eyes. She let the sounds wash over her. Her blood grew warm and pulsed through her veins.

She grabbed the knife from her cape, folding her hand around the handle. Every engraving held meaning. Generations of women made the slices, shed the blood, fed the masses…

When the noise reached its pitch, Miriam stepped forward.

At some point, Miriam lost her clothing, all of it, except her socks, because no matter how enraptured you were by the ceremony, the sand was cold. She danced with her sisters, sparks flying both from their hands and the bonfire. Everything was perfect…except for the distraction.

No one else seemed to notice, but Miriam kept glancing towards the trees, then further down the beach.

Was someone watching them?

Did it matter?

A crack of thunder answered.

A line of light lit up the sky; the whole world seemed to take a breath, then boom.

Rain.

Not just rain, but a monsoon of frigid sheets of water that drenched them and put out the bonfire with a splash.

The ritual ended in screams and people grabbing their clothes. Everyone fled up the beach toward the trees, toward the parking lot.

Miriam stood there, with a smoldering bonfire in front of her. Her clothes lay at her feet, utterly worthless. She watched as her boots slid down the beach to the shoreline.

Ritual called due to a hurricane? She didn’t remember that from the book.

Dressed in her sopping wet cape, Miriam trudged up the beach. She left the rest of her clothes behind; let some nice beachcomber enjoy the green silk and those awesome lined tights. Her car was the last in the lot, artfully arranged under a pole light.

Halfway to her elderly BMW, Miriam felt someone behind her. She whirled around, hair slapping her in the face…

And found Callum, a man looking for a singles event.

He had an umbrella, leaving him perfectly dry, dimples and all.

“Hell of a storm,” he said, putting the umbrella over her head.

“A little late…” Miriam began, then felt the cape’s heavy pull turn feather-light. With a confused blink, she looked down and found herself dry and dressed. “Um.”

When she looked up, Callum was grinning widely. “Breakfast?”

“What the hell?”

“My event got canceled,” he said.

“Mine, too.”

Miriam debated what to say next. She usually gave regular mammals a wide berth; they were nice for sex and company, but Miriam stuck with her own kind.

They didn’t socialize with any other irregulars.

Now there was a singles event to consider.

“What are you?”

“Name’s Callum.”

Miriam tossed her dry curls with a sexy flare. “I got that. Is this rain you?”

Callum smiled sweetly. “Yeah.”

“And the dry thing?”

“Mmmm, you got me.”

“You wrecked my ceremony. I should be annoyed.”

“Should be, hmmm.”

Then Callum tipped the umbrella back. The rain was gone. The moon shone perfectly in the sky. Everything smelled like a candle called “Cotton Beach Dream.”

Miriam noted the sparkle in Callum’s eyes. He stepped aside, and Miriam looked back at the beach. The bonfire sparked up.

“Please, please, please don’t be something I’ll have to kill eventually,” Miriam said with a sigh.

Callum bowed like a gentleman, gesturing toward the beach with his arm. “Care to join my singles bonfire?”

“I’m bringing my knife.”

For the first time, Callum’s charming smile took on a mischievous quality. “That’s usually a second date thing with me.”

Miriam flicked her cape as she walked back down to the beach beside Callum. She fought the smile overtaking her face. The bonfire was about to get a second chance…