Chicken Paste Sandwiches

I stood behind the tree, hands in my pocket, collar pulled up high. Would I ever get used to these miserable Earth winters? I doubted it. I’d asked for my next assignment to be somewhere warmer but my request had gone unheeded.

I looked across at the white car where my next victim sat. James Peterson – a lowly civil servant who regularly took to his car at lunchtime to eat his chicken paste sandwiches and drink lukewarm coffee from a flask.

James was a loner. No friends. No family. The ideal host.

By midnight his body would be my new home.

MikeJackson©2017

Picture courtesy of Dale Rogerson

Another 100-word story for Friday Fictioners.

10 Comments

  1. James

    Well, yikes. There’s a science fiction novel by Hal Clement called “Iceworld”. An alien visits our world but its from a super-hot planet, so even Florida in the summer seems like the coldest winter.

    Like

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