Flash Fiction: On a Date With The Muse

Out on a date with The Muse.
“You’re really struggling with this prompt picture, aren’t you?”
The Muse smirks as Tannille nods. Clearly, The Muse is relishing in the power.
“Do you have anything?”
“Well, I could always pick my toenails… no? How about picking the flake of my heels, a vibrating burp, or a ripper of a fart?”
“Gross. Now, you’re plagiarising Mark’s bad blind date story.”
“Not my fault. I have zero control over what gets stuck in your head.”
Tannille looks out the window and changes the subject.
“Do you think there is a serial killer out there?”
“Sure, you want to go hunting.”
“Let’s go…”

~*~

Story Background

The past few months I’ve been stalking writing for a platform called Medium. The variety of stories is massive and some of them get stuck in my head. In this case, Mark’s bad blind date and before bed I engaged in a light read about the morality of playing God (who lives and who dies) — hence wanting to hunt serial killers. It amuses me what lingers in the brain.