Ravenous: A (Not That) Scary Sexy Short Story

By Jen Trinh

Halloween. A haunted estate. A scavenger hunt...

 

Abandoned at a party by her best friend, Kate Lu seeks a way to entertain herself. It doesn't take long for her to find someone who wants to play, but he might not be who—or what—she thinks he is...

 

Note: this story briefly discusses a character's struggles with mental health issues.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jen Trinh
• Release date: Oct 20, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223036906

Jen Trinh

Jen writes funny, heartfelt, contemporary romances with diverse Asian American characters. Her debut novel, Crushing on You, was a finalist in two categories of the 2020 NJRW Golden Leaf contest, as well as a finalist for Best Romance in the 2023 Audie Awards. She lives in a pile of blankets near a pretty nice Wawa, with her husband and multiple tropical plants. When she isn't writing, you can find her reading, climbing, drawing, or most likely, snacking. Sign up for her newsletter to receive discounts, freebies, and updates!

Book preview

Ravenous: A (Not That) Scary Sexy Short Story

Jen Trinh

Published by Jen Trinh, 2023.

This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

RAVENOUS: A (NOT THAT) SCARY SEXY SHORT STORY

First edition. October 20, 2023.

Copyright © 2023 Jen Trinh.

Written by Jen Trinh.

Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright Page

Dedication

Ravenous

Also By Jen Trinh

About the Author

Heads up: the main character of this story has a history of mental health issues, which are touched upon but not described in depth.

Ravenous

I’VE ALWAYS WONDERED about this place: the lone, fenced-away house brooding ominously on the hill, the only hill in our otherwise flat little town. Against a cloudy, starless sky and low, colorless moon, the house looms impossibly large as we approach, like a stout toad squatting in the path of ants, preemptively swallowing us in its menacing shadow.

Tonight, it’s the setting for the Halloween event of the season, and I’m here with my best friend Tasha and her new dick-on-wheels, Mason or Macon or some other poached-egg name. I’m not sure if she was allowed to invite him (she was supposed to be my plus one), but with how tangled up in each other they are, they’re practically a single entity anyway, and unbearable to be around. After ten minutes of him squeezing her ass like a lemon and calling her pet names like snickerpoodle and my tight little turkey, my inner Mike Tyson is ready to come out. He’d better watch his ears.

The host of the party, Neel Sharma, gathers us in the main hall, where dozens of ornately curved iron wall sconces fill the airy space with a low orange glow. I only half-listen as he talks, too busy searching for a familiar face, the only face I hope