STRAWBERRY KISSES

He got off at the next station, and the train slid away. He needed to pee, and he didn't see the restroom. The place was a dump. Trash was scattered over the grimy floor. The fluorescent lights overhead flickered, or were dark altogether. The few commuters who sat alone on the benches staring at their phones did not look up as Martin walked past.

Martin entered a corridor and walked down its length. It felt very cold. Closed doors, painted green, were on either side. None were doors to a restroom.

The corridor came to a dead end. Frustrated, Martin spun around to return to the main hall of the station, but abruptly stopped.

At the far end of the corridor, the three girls stood watching him. They laughed when they saw he had seen them. They walked toward him at a leisurely pace. As they approached, Martin saw their faces changing in the quavering light, oscillating between the faces of pretty girls and pallid, gray visages with dark red eyes and shapeless, slobbering mouths with protruding fangs.

This was pretty much what Martin had expected.

Martin cowered as the girl-things arranged themselves in a circle around him. He felt his pants becoming wet. "Don't kill me," he begged. "I like strawberry kisses. I ride the train every day. You can give me strawberry kisses every day."

Mona, her face randomly shifting, regarded him for a moment, and then nodded in agreement. She clasped Martin's head in her hands and kissed him brutally. Martin felt her jagged teeth cut his lips and scrape against his own teeth. The hot-metal taste of blood filled his mouth.