FICTION
A Dead Body at Our AirBnB
A gay horror short
When we pulled up to the house, I thought it was a joke. This couldn’t possibly be our AirBnB. It looked like the Texas Chainsaw house. Literally every surface could give you tetanus.
But when I looked at Dave, he wasn’t smiling. “Babe, it seemed so much nicer in the photos.”
I wanted to scream. I wanted to tell him to take me back home. But we’d been fighting so much lately that I didn’t even know if he loved me anymore. The whole reason we were on this vacation was to reconnect.
So I forced a smile and said, “It really doesn’t look that bad.”
He could tell I was lying. The place wasn’t just run-down and gross. It was uninviting. It felt like it didn’t want us there. Since the beginning of our long road trip across the South, this was the first place that genuinely made me feel unsafe.
When I reached the front door, Dave wasn’t far behind. I took a deep breath and raised my hand to knock, but the door creaked open before I could.
A large, bearded man stepped into the sunlight. He was at least six inches taller than me, his extremely broad shoulders filling out his flannel shirt. Honestly, he’d be exactly my type if I looked past the sunburn, mullet, and angry glare.
