THE WEREWOLF AND THE TENTACLED BRAIN EATER
(a love story) by Aaron Majewski.
The richly appointed dining room had a wide table big enough for ten, but only two place settings; set across from each other, wait for diners. Early dusk, the sun is up but just beginning to set, seen out through the room’s expensive delicately made glass french doors, their blinds drawn back to show the pretty failing orb. The chandelier lights are turned down low seductively and the table has a pair of unlit candles sitting on it, as well as dinner. On the middle of the table several steaming dishes wait, a roast sits on a butcher block, which in turn sits on a large serving platter. Rare roast gently weeps blood, which flows into the platter. A large fork is stuck into the middle of the roast, a single slice has been carved and a large carving knife with ivory handle rests in the roast waiting to carve more. Another platter holds baked potatoes baked with the roast they are covered in its juices, also carrots and celery; another dish gently steaming, holds some kind of yellowish creamed vegetable. A bottle of red wine breathes in wait each place setting sporting a wine glass waiting to be filled.
A man escorts a woman through an archway into the dining room, Tim is thirty-ish, with a square jaw blond hair, a large powerfully developed frame; yet his eyes hold deep intelligence and he looks oddly gentle. He wears dress slacks and a buttoned down shirt, workmanlike-hands and uncertain demeanor, clearly he’s dressed in his best and trying to please. His date Sondra in a light blue ankle length summer dress with shoulder straps holding it up; collar length brown hair falls in lustrous silky waves, extremely pretty with big luminous gray eyes that seem to swirl with an inner light, drawing you in if you look too long. She is apparently younger than he is, perhaps mid-twenties, she looks around and smiles in delight at the set table.