It recently occurred to me that shapeshifters of one kind or another tend to show up in my stories quite a lot. This realization came to me as a bit of a surprise because I’ve never really considered myself particularly enamored with or fascinated by shapeshifter lore.
The shapeshifter in Skin Dancing is something out of a nightmare.
Two women meet in a bar in the boondocks on a sweltering summer night. Each woman revels in the presence of a kindred spirit. They share laughs, stories, and an appreciation for a rare drink. The setup is ordinary but there’s something just a little off-kilter.
The younger woman has no idea what the older one has in store for her.
The night stretches on. The younger woman gets so drunk she can hardly even stand. She’s at the older woman’s mercy. The predatory one prepares to strike but something unexpected happens.
Fate intervenes. The younger woman escapes a fate worse than death.
Lucky her. Right?
Short Story Status: Complete