Going to Earth

Alan P. Scott - Fictions - 100-word stories

like a fox

Who knows why he came to me in the club - perhaps because I was alone?

He was golden, and special. He wore his body like a cloak; could I alone penetrate his disguise?

"Hide me," he whispered. Pride thrilled me. He took my outstretched hand, and we left, silently.

His nakedness was... strange, but we made things fit. Afterwards, his hands felt as tender as any I'd known.

He remained calm as the door broke in.

"Sinner!" they cried, raising devices of glowing force. He flared in brief agony.

They left me, the one he'd slept with, alone, nothing: a beast.

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