Just Deserts
Dear Readers,
This is the last story for Summer Scare 2025! I always try to explain where the idea for what I write comes from, so this one started with a tiny, innocent-looking bug. I took a picture of it and made the mistake of enlarging it. This is what it looked like, and this is where Just Deserts started. Have some scary reading!
Margarita Sanchez entered the ballroom, and not one man failed to notice. Maxwell Kent III—tall with a well-styled golden mane and a disarming insouciance—was an added bit of gorgeousness, but he failed to detract from his date. He placed a possessive hand at her back and guided her to a table where three other couples were already seated.
The women settled back in their chairs as if the move had been choreographed. All three men rose by some cosmic connection until Margarita took her seat.
“Good evening. A wonderful place for a fundraiser, isn’t it?” She smiled, and one of the women pushed away, with her partner in tow.
“It’s time we danced,” the woman said, meaning to smile, but only succeeding in baring her teeth.
The others quickly followed, leaving Margarita and Maxwell Kent III alone.
“You do know how to clear a space, my dear,” he said.
With a nod, Margarita picked up the glass of champagne and clicked it against his.
She couldn’t help being beautiful, but she made no effort to be modest about it. Every choice, whether it was clothing, jewelry, or companion, Margarita made with herself in mind--how those accessories would enhance her.
Tonight, she wore a simple, form-fitting white sheath to accentuate her Maui tan, slim waist, and perfect hips. Her dark hair was smoothed back into a twist and secured with a diamond-encrusted clip that caught the light and drew even more attention her way.
By the end of the evening, three couples had broken up, two of the men managed to exchange Margarita's phone number with them, and Maxwell Kent III vanished into history.
No more than a month later, she discarded both of those other men as well. Margarita bored easily, and she didn’t understand what it meant to have regrets.
Well, she did have a tinge of remorse about taking her sister’s husband. Her sister had attempted suicide, and that had been annoying. Then the husband refused to stop pestering Margarita even after she’d made it quite clear that she was no longer interested in him. He finally moved away or...something.
On a particularly long, hot day, Margarita was shocked to find no one calling or texting or stopping by. She wasn’t used to being alone, and without someone to talk to, she grew restless and resorted to a TV game show called Just Deserts. It was strange with oddly dressed contestants, bizarre questions, and prizes she didn’t understand at all.
Just Deserts? It must be one of those bake-off shows.
But it fascinated her, so she settled in a chair, forgetting how it felt to only have herself as company.
The game host stepped up to a stack of oversized cards, and when he chose one, it sent sparks into the air. The contestants and the audience cheered wildly.
“This is the one we’ve been waiting for!” he shouted, waving the card overhead and staring into the camera. “Out there is a special person who is about to get her—“ Grinning, he made air quotes—“Just Deserts!”
The music blared and confetti rained onto the stage, and at the same time, Margarita’s cell phone chimed. When she answered it, her own voice, delayed, played back from the TV.
“Congratulations, Margarita,” the game show host said. “ You are the grand prize winner. Your prize awaits! Are you ready for your Just Deserts?”
“What? I mean, yes.” She was so caught up in the blaring of the music and the loud excitement coming from the TV that she didn’t have time to think about how strange it was he’d have her name and number.
“Then so be it! Congratulations,” the man said.
The sparks that had flared like laser blasts on the TV stage were suddenly shooting out from her.
Oh my god. What’s happening?
She stood unable to breathe as an inexplicable force painfully pressed against her. Her body throbbed. Vise-like pain threatened to crush her head, her legs, and her arms. She screamed, but only a strange raspy noise came from her throat.
The room grew larger and larger. The ceiling soared high overhead. When she tried to run, a forest of pale blue strands snagged at her and held her back. She found that if she slowed to a crawl, she could move forward. But where was she going? She had to find something familiar.
Something familiar.
She froze in terror. Her carpet was this pale blue color. But how...She had to calm down. Think.
Instead of trying to move forward, Margarita climbed upward until she was on top of the thick fibers. She made her way across what seemed to be a wide, still sea of blue until she butted into a post. Slowly, she made her way up until she landed on a glass surface.
Her purse. Her keys. This was her hall table. Above it, a mirror. She clambered up the lamp base and stared at the image. Arms and legs shriveled into thin pincers with spines like tiny teeth. Horns. Eyes that glowed green. A black snout.
She screamed again, but this time it sounded like zizz-ip, zizz-ip.
The EndI’ll probably have a couple of good Halloween tales in October, but I’m back to writing less horrifying stories…maybe something with just a smattering of ghosts or the bizarre.
And speaking of ghosts…I have a new book coming out in October (if all goes well) and I’ve sprinkled it liberally with ghosts and added some witchcraft. I don’t have a cover yet, but I should by the end of the month. In the meantime, here are some of my other books.
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