They say April is the cruelest month, so it may be fitting that the two stories I'm posting on the last day of April, "Pretty" and "Tryst," are if nothing else cruel. Certainly they are not pretty. I think I've coded them with warning enough that those who can't stand unhappy tales will not read these. Even so, I expect to get some mail to the tune of "What a sick fuck you are! Your stories suck and so do you. I won't be reading anything by you again."
Last night I thought seriously of pulling them from the posting queue. Maybe I should. I don't remember the impetus for writing either of these. That's not unusual. I write what comes to mind; it's as simple as that. I'm happy that most of the time the darker themes stay away. And when they don't, writing has at least a bit of cathartic effect.
Before the end of the day I will also post another illustrated definition of the second, as suggested by an SOL friend. I happen to know that it too might be unsettling.