Book of my short stories, which include
Cruisin', Kwelanga of Days, Arguments,
Three Weeks Into an Era, 24 Hours, Finger Rings, Baby Fever, On the Hotline, Can You Handle It, Strawberry Shortcake, Open Auditions, Mirror Mirror, Crowning Glory, Catf...
Notes: Wrote this to feed my twin's murder kink. Erik's death is written three times here, so violence and blood is included. Three chapters combined into one. ♡
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Part 1: Shrimp Allergy
N'Jobu was well traveled. He’d been to many unique places and met many interesting people during his life. The stories were always different. He’d taken a young Erik with him on more than a few occasions and one of Erik’s favorite places to travel with his father was to the fair grounds in New Orleans. Not many people knew about them. They were on a private piece of land owned by the Glampions, a black family rumored to be descended from Marie Laveau herself. He remembered the beignets and the cream puff eating contests. The music and the random attractions he’d run to and through with the other kids. The fun house with the crazy mirrors, the rides, the horse rides, the magician, and the fortune teller. He remembered it so well that nostalgia carried him south all the way to Louisiana just to revisit his past.
It wasn’t as he remembered. He bypassed all the No Trespassing signs to find that the fair was deserted. It had become one of those creepy, abandoned locations and he wondered where the family had gone. Why had they deserted the area and left the fair in squalor? He strolled through the area. There was the rollercoaster, but it was rusted and unsafe to attempt to climb or mess with. If he were to restore the place, he could see himself fixing it. But that wasn’t why he’d come. Passing the funhouse and the empty stands, he saw the Kissing Booth. He was too young to be interested as a child visiting, but now.. he could do some damage in a kissing booth. He noticed the S’s had been graffitied into L’s and he huffed, humored. Kids.
“I guess you don’t read signs,” a jazzy voice rang from inside of the tent. He opened the curtain to find a curvy, Godiva brown woman with waist length faux locs and deep red lipstick. She sat at a wooden table the size of a card table. Her feet were bare. Her eyes were wide and strong. Her off white dress went almost to her ankles and she was mixing an herbal substance with a mortar and pestle.
“I read signs.. and I ignore them,” he said moving inside slowly to sit in the chair across from the haunting woman.
