|Courtesy Tess Kincaid|
Ron allowed himself to be led by the hostess to the bungalow. The party ebbed and flowed around him, by the poolside. Fairy lights glimmered in the trees and shrubs. Waiters floated noiselessly in the background, carrying trays of canapes, and a selection of drinks.
He had quickly picked up a wineglass from the nearest tray. A ruby red wine. It could easily have been mistaken for blood. Arterial. The blood that had flecked his shirt, spurting, as his... No. No. He didn't want to go there. Not down that path. Not just then..
For the moment, he was thankful of three things - a conscientious hostess, the darkness of the night, and the glass of ruby red wine.
- Flash fiction, inspired by a Magpie Tales prompt.