Micro Fiction: Sunday Dinner

“Looks good!” Paul said.

Paul smiled as his wife slid the two racks of ribs onto two plates. He sat at the table and she joined him, placing his plate in front of him.

“You have a little something – ” she slurred, pulling a strip of flesh away from his cheek.

With a wink, she tossed it towards their neighbour Pablo, who sat bound to a third chair. They laughed at his gag-muffled scream as he squirmed away from the rotting skin. His wife lay on the floor, ribless.

The two ghouls picked up their dinner and began to eat. 

Hope you guys enjoyed my Monday night Micro Fiction! Don't forget to check out my Facebook page and follow for more updates and polls!

x P.L. McMillan