First of all: Congratulations to Kate Sparkes on her new release. :-)
Second: The Thing has been announced. :-) You can see my post about it here.
‘Tis once again WIPpet Wednesday. Thank you, K.L. Schwengel, for hosting. May your words be ever flowing.
This week’s WIPpet comes from the horror-fantasy-maybe short story I mentioned a couple weeks ago. These are Zeeb’s parents, Ralph and Ylva. If you’d like to alpha read, let me know. :-)
How I’m connecting the WIPpet to the date: It’s April Fool’s and Ralph is clearly a fool for Ylva. (It’s under 300 words.)
Ralph: Ice-blue eyes, blond hair, fair skinned, average height, healthy figure. In this story, he’s got a fairly trendy-of-the-late-70’s-early-80’s short haircut and is clean-shaven.
Ylva: Hazel eyes, medium-length auburn hair, not as fair as Ralph, average height, healthy figure.
Necessary context: … Nah. Have fun.
“Ralph Lowell!” She swiped at him, trying to get the keys. “You put those chains back on me or give me the keys so I can do it myself.”
Ralph tossed the keys out the door. Ylva’s chain, with three of her limbs free, gave her enough play to reach them, but he shut the door and stood in front of it. Ylva, far stronger than he, pushed him aside.
Before she reached the keys, he mumbled. “Just like your mother.”
Ylva stopped in her tracks, her fingers a hairbreadth from the keys. “What was that?”
“Oh, nothing.” Ralph folded his arms over his chest and did his best to look suspiciously innocent.
“You said I’m like my mother.”
“Did I? Now why would I say that?” He kept his head turned to the side, but in his peripheral vision he watched her nails grow into claws. Keeping his breathing even and his stance casual took all his concentration.
“I don’t know why you would say it, but I know you said it.”
“Well, you have to admit,” he braced himself for the attack, “you are being kind of controlling.”
“Controlling!” In spite of the gravelly werewolf undertones, Ylva’s voice screeched into the upper ranges. “You call wanting my husband to survive the night controlling?”
“Oh, I’m sorry. Is controlling a bad word? What would you like me to call you? Analytical? Shrewish? Manipulative?”
He saw her coming, her face more canine than human, from the corner of his eye. He squeezed his eyes tight and waited for the pain.
To play along with WIPpet Wednesday