Happy Hump Day/Silver Flash Day! This week, we have only three Flashers, myself, Sui Lynn, and West Thornhill, but we aim to please! I was Prompt Diva this week, and I gave this:
The dream began in the usual way—a seductive Quentin beckoning to Dallas with that familiar come hither expression in his pale blue eyes. At one time, Dallas would’ve followed the sexy brunet anywhere, and in his dreams he still did. There was never any rhyme or reason to the locations; tonight’s was no exception.
HOSPITAL the flashing red neon lights proclaimed, but when Dallas pushed open the doors to what should have been the emergency room, it was eerily silent, not a doctor or nurse in sight. Not a single patient either. Not even a zombie. Last night’s dream was filled with them, so that was a blessed relief.
Giggling at the end of the corridor. There he was. Quentin Mandrake. Ex lover and present torturer. Dallas trotted down the empty hallway, almost knocking over a cart full of medical supplies in his haste to reach the end. And Quentin. But the bastard managed to stay just ahead of him. Dallas caught a glimpse of his mop of dark curls, and rounded the corner, sure he’d caught up with him.
Another dead end.
Nowhere to go but through a set of double doors marked OR. Normally, Dallas wouldn’t dream of invading an operating room, but nothing about this was normal; it vibrated with a surreal intensity. Resolutely, he pushed open the doors and was greeted by blackness. A complete lack of light. It was darker in that room than the Bat Cave at midnight.
Dallas had watched the series and every version of the movies ever made, so he understood about the Bat Cave.
Suddenly, as if a switch had been thrown, the room was flooded with light. There before him stood not Quentin, but the mysterious Dr. Samuel Levi, behind an operating table. He wore traditional surgical garb—scrubs, mask and latex gloves. His long braid hung over his shoulder; a single lotus blossom was tucked behind one ear.
“Welcome my lovely one,” the doctor intoned in a breathy voice.
Dallas grew hot and cold as that voice washed over him. Hot and cold and quite hard.
“Come over here, you can be my assistant,” the doctor beckoned.
“I’m a chef, not a surgeon, Dr. Levi,” Dallas protested.
“Today you can be my nurse.” Dr. Levi smiled, his glance raking over Dallas. Dallas looked down to find he was wearing a nurse’s uniform, complete with white Dr. Scholl’s and white lace stockings. He touched his head—yep, even a hair net. His eyes went wide. He found himself obeying doctor’s orders and joining him on the other side of the table.
“Scalpel, please, Nurse Dallas.” The pseudo-surgeon held out an expectant hand.
Dallas had seen enough medical shows to know that there should be a tray of instruments close at hand. He glanced about him, searching for them. He couldn’t help but notice that the doctor’s legs were clad in black fishnet stockings. A shiver ran through his frame. Forcing himself to focus, he found the gleaming surgical tools, and reached for a scalpel, trying not to think about what might be under the scrubs. As he handed the instrument to Dr. Levi, it suddenly changed into a dagger.
The doctor didn’t seem fazed by this turn of events. He smiled, revealing glistening white teeth. “Will you please administer the anesthesia?”
Now I’m the gas passer too?
As if he could read Dallas’ mind, Dr. Levi solemnly handed him a cartoonishly large mallet.
“Hammereetis?” Dallas heard himself ask. When the doctor nodded, he struck the patient with the hammer. Clonk! Cuckoo birds flew above the man’s head. He was obviously out for the count.
“Shall we begin with the heart?” Dr. Levi raised questioning brows at Dallas.
Heart? What?
“An eye for eye. A heart for a heart. He stole yours, now we’ll take his.”
His? Whose?
Dallas turned horrified eyes to the man on the table, seeing him for the first time. Quentin’s frightened gaze looked back at him, mouth covered in duct tape. He was bound to the table with day-glo straps which made movement entirely not optional.
“I know a lovely recipe,” the surgeon continued. “All we need is a little chianti and some fava beans. Unless of course you prefer a merlot? Your choice.” He took the dagger in both hands and raised it above Quentin’s body. Dallas’ ex screamed with his eyes. Dallas found he could not look away from the sight, as the dagger plunged into Quentin’s body. Blood splattered on him, as well as on Dr. Levi. Reaching into the gaping wound, the surgeon scooped out the heart, and one-handedly presented it to Dallas.
“Would you care to deal with this?”
“What should I do?”
Dr. Levi grabbed Dallas’ hand with his free hand, and pressed the bloody bit of flesh into it. “It would make a wonderful aphrodisiac,” he said, bringing his face closer to Dallas’. Dallas moaned, his lips parting in breathy anticipation. Doctor Levi’s face floated closer… and closer…
Dallas sat bolt upright, his heart hammering in his chest. His bedroom was dark, save for what moonlight filtered through the lightweight curtains. He fought to bring his breathing under control, trying to remember the relaxation technique his sister had taught him once. Something akin to Lamaze. Minus the baby.
Maybe a glass of water would help.
He threw back the sheet; it clung to his body. Frowning, he noticed that it was unaccountably wet. When had he undressed? He never slept in the nude. And he hadn’t had a wet dream since adolescence. Until tonight.
He rose and yanked the sheet off the bed, a moue of distaste crossing his face. He headed to the bathroom to clean up the residue from the odd dream. And then he heard it again. The scrabbling noises over his head.
He was going to have to insist that Mrs. Persepolis do something about those rats, or he might just have to buy some traps and take them up there himself.
to be continued
Don't forget to check out the other Silver Flashers:
Join us again next week when the intrepid authors of Silver Publishing take on the Silver Flash prompts!
Until then, take care!
♥ Julie
