Flash Fiction

SoCS – Root

“Dig,” she thought as she shoved the spade into the ground again.

“Dig, dig, dig, dug. Doug. It’s Doug I should be digging for. To hell with this root.”

But the root had been the bane of her existence since she moved into the house. Because it was more than a root. It was a stump. The stump of a tree that had been cut down maybe a century ago. God knew what was below it – maybe there was a cemetery down there, like in Poltergeist.

Chunk, went the spade. Chunk, chunk ching!! She hit something. Getting down onto her hands and knees she dug with her fingers until she uncovered something silver. Something shiny. A treasure! Could it be that all this work had made her rich?

With renewed determination she stood and wielded the shovel once again. The silver box was small – it didn’t take much to dig around it. But it was deep, like a tiny coffin that had been buried lengthways. By the time she reached the bottom of it, Doug had come home.

“Hey asshole,” she called to him. “Can you come and help me with this?”

“Go fuck yourself,” he muttered as he marched from the car to the house. He slammed the door behind him.

“Just a little wider,” she mumbled to herself. “And he’ll fit right in.”

***

Two weeks later…

The house had been deathly quiet for so long that it seemed as though noise had given up on her. Doug had woken up while she was still filling in the hole, but she took care of that with the spade. The silver box was the final nail in his makeshift coffin – or lack thereof. It was the deciding factor. Not only did she have the means to cover up what she’d done thanks to her discovery, she wouldn’t have to share whatever was in the box with him. Or anyone else.

It took three days to pry the lid off the box and then another day to figure out what was in it. A pair of glowing orbs, like cat’s eyes lay in the bottom, which was five feet from the top. Tipping it hadn’t worked, nor had turning it upside down. Now the object sat on the table in front of her. It had climbed out on its own it seemed, after she went to bed.

The object – what could she call it? A cat-box? – refused to move from the table. It smelled like toast in the morning, a chicken sandwich at lunchtime, and a steak at dinner. But every time she made something to eat, her food would disappear. Into thin air. The only thing it didn’t touch was her coffee and her booze.

She couldn’t leave the house; she was slowly starving to death. Except.

Every day for the past seven days there had been a note on the table when she woke up in the morning. The note read: if you’re hungry, dig up Doug.

 

This creepy tale is brought to you by SoCS. Click here and join in! Anyone can do it!  http://lindaghill.com/2015/09/18/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-sept-1915/

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SoCS – The Light in His Eyes

It wasn’t that Melissa didn’t like Teddy. It was the light in his eyes when he looked at her that she couldn’t abide. Half the time it made her feel as though she might be stuck with a man who followed her around like a pesky dog for the rest of her breathing days, and the other half of the time his glint-gaze gave her the creeps. She was afraid if she gave in and decided to sleep with him (finally) she might never wake up.

The one time she tried to end it it had been raining. She stood at the precipice of a puddle and he stood in it. She couldn’t help but wonder if his shoes were filled with water. How could she break up with a man with wet feet? Melissa may have been many things, but heartless wasn’t one of them.

So she decided to write him a poem. To let him down from a distance, where she wouldn’t know if he was standing in a puddle like a pathetic, gallant clown. Her first attempt was a limerick:

There once was a girl we won’t mention
Who was getting far too much attention
She was getting the creeps
When he said, ‘it’s for keeps’

But Melissa couldn’t come up with another word that rhymed with ‘attention,’ so she tried another:

Roses are red
Violets are blue
I’m breaking up with you.

It seemed far too abrupt. And if she was going to be abrupt, why not just text him with the news? She tried:

Dear Teddy. I can’t see you any more. Your eyes are weird. Love, Melissa.

but she didn’t want to lead him on with the words ‘dear’ and ‘love.’

So in the end she simply approached him with a bucket of cold water, threw it at him and told him to figure it out for himself.

Melissa’s only regret is that she might have put his light out for good. Someone else should definitely have had the benefit of that light. Someone more deserving.

This post is part of SoCS: http://lindaghill.com/2015/09/04/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-sept-515/

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Dhampyre

You come back. You always do. If I didn’t know better I’d say you were a moth and I am the flame, but no. An insect doesn’t draw all that satisfying ego-boosting boot-licking luxury from a candle. You don’t burn up. You suck.

I wish you could grow up. Take responsibility for the debts you have created. But you act as though the world is your playground. You swing upon the chains that society links together and not surprisingly, it bears your weight. We are a forgiving bunch, me and the other plebes.

But you and me, we’re more personal, aren’t we. How many days and nights and weeks and months and years have we spent in each other’s company. Giving and taking is our history. I’ve plucked from you your essence and you… you have leeched my heart, drop by bloody drop, replacing just enough to keep me alive.

The light in my heart flickers each time we talk. You squint and through my eyes you see the workings of my brain – you analyse and I can actually see your “aha!” moment when you find that thing, that crack in my armor, and you’re like a vacuum. Resistance is futile.

You will never let me go. Even if you die before me I will always wonder if there is more I could have done. More I could have given. One more drop of blood; one more spark of light.

You were my love and now, now you kill me slowly. You always come back.

SoCS – Death Wish (96 words)

My eye brushes gently ‘cross your death note; the taste of it sweet upon my lips. If I thought you weren’t kidding I would surely be afraid for you. But this is you, as you are. As you have always been. The kingdom of Dramaland resides within you – it echos softly as your blood drips on the floor in a tainted half-hearted effort to end it all.
I laugh, straining not to shed tears upon your page. When I look up you are smirking at me. And now it is I who wishes my end.

***

This post is unedited and written as part of Stream of Consciousness Saturday – a fun prompt that anyone can participate in! Find the rules here: http://lindaghill.com/2015/03/20/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-march-2115/

badge by Doobster @ Mindful Digressions

badge by Doobster @ Mindful Digressions

It is also part of Mr. Chuck Wendig’s Flash Fiction challenge.  This week: 100 words only. Check it out! http://terribleminds.com/ramble/2015/03/20/flash-fiction-challenge-100-words-only/

Achtung Baby (SoCS & JusJoJan)

Achtung Baby

The stage is set, the players, all fifteen of them, stand in the wings, waiting to go on. All are naked; some are bold, most are nervous. Among them, Armand is one of the youngest at twenty-one tender years of age. As he follows a woman of forty out onto the platform, he wills his body into submission, not wishing to show more of himself than he must. He wishes briefly that he had cut his hair so as not to be as conspicuous. He is aware of the soft strands brushing against his buttocks as he takes stage left.

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Notes in hand, textbooks tucked under her seat, Zelda sits in the audience among one hundred and fifty of her colleagues. Pen poised, her eyes drift over the bodies on stage, coming to rest upon the lithe, shy man at stage left. He scans the front row not lifting his gaze, probably lest he realizes just how many eyes are upon he and his fellow subjects. It never seems to matter to them that their audience is comprised of physicians whose interest in them is entirely clinical. It was, for Zelda, until today.

She shifts to the edge of her seat, staring at him. Willing him to look up to her fifth row seat. She has fallen in love, for as much good as it will do. Contact between physician and subject in this particular venue is forbidden. Getting backstage would be more difficult than breaching security at a rock concert.

Ignoring the rest of the class she stares only at him. When it is his turn to step forward she gasps involuntarily.

He looks up at her and a faint smile crosses his lips.

Perhaps in the next lifetime.

 

This post is part of SoCS. The prompt today is Scene/seen. Please join in! http://lindaghill.com/2015/01/30/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-january-3115/

badge by Doobster @ Mindful Digressions

badge by Doobster @ Mindful Digressions

And… AND… JusJoJan!! http://lindaghill.com/2015/01/20/jusjojan-day-21-30-prompt/

JJJ 2015

SoCS – In and Out

The facts are unshakable. Incontrovertible. I saw him with my own eyes, laying in the coffin, eyes closed, hands crossed on his chest. They had him in a black suit and a white shirt, with a boutonniere; a red carnation. He could have been going to the prom. Only he wasn’t. In fact he prevented my sister and so many others from going to their proms. He was a killer. And I’m glad he’s dead.

As they nailed down the lid of his coffin I laughed a little on the inside. Maybe it was nerves. I have them now – a week later. I got a call from the police, in fact I just hung up – contacting his other victims’ families wasn’t fun. He’s gone missing from the grave. Did someone dig him up? Or did he get out himself?

What I didn’t mention to the police, nor to the other families was the damned red boutonniere I found taped to the outside of my living-room window. Even after a week it still looked fresh. Alive, even.

This post is part of SoCS: http://lindaghill.com/2014/11/21/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-november-2214/ Join in the fun!

badge by Doobster @ Mindful Digressions

badge by Doobster @ Mindful Digressions

socs – blind

500

by blinding me you have sensitized my surroundings. you breathe in my ear and my skin reaches for the air; gooseflesh tingles, lights a fire in my heart. the ground beneath me trembles, or so it seems. i feel you around me. i know you’re there. and then, suddenly, your mouth is on mine. your tongue licks my lips.

i need not light; when you are here i have everything.

 

this post is part of socs: http://lindaghill.com/2014/11/14/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-november-1514/

SoCS – Memory

A picture,
the scent on the clothes you left behind,
and a memory
is all I have left.

She places the photograph on the table beside the mirror in her bedroom and stands back to look at it. The frame is guilt and the image is one of profound regret. A ball forms in her chest, a balloon of grief waiting to burst.

But the time is not right. She can’t let it go. Not yet. There are many things to do; arrangements to be made, people to see, hands to shake, and mouths to feed. Explanations to be invented.

And then there was the private eye to take care of. He knows everything.

Her political aspirations can afford no compromise.

badge by Doobster @ Mindful Digressions

badge by Doobster @ Mindful Digressions

This post is part of SoCS! Join in now! http://lindaghill.com/2014/10/31/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-november-114/

SoCS – The Second I Saw You

I knew the second I saw you that you would be mine. You might say it is cliche, but it’s true. My mind immediately raced to our wedding day – that I would place my ring on your finger and that in the spectators at our marriage day would be four or five of my ex-wives, bickering and scratching one another.

Catcalls from the orchestra section would be drowned out by the love, ringing in our ears and bells would tinkle above us. Oh the gloriousness of our child-bearing years! Our first-born would look just like me, or perhaps my sixth ex-wife, as by then I would be fooling around on you because you put on a few pounds from the many desserts I demanded you bake for me.

Now, my love, I stand in line at the seventh cashier from the right where I’ve followed you with my shopping cart from the frozen food aisle. I need only touch your arm.

We were meant to be. I know it in my heart.

 

This stream of consciousness fiction piece is part of SoCS. Click on the link and join in the fun!
http://lindaghill.wordpress.com/2014/09/26/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-september-2714/

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badge by Doobster @ Mindful Digressions

SoCS – Where Inspiration Comes From

“And so, Mr. Lennon,” said the Chairman of the school board’s committee on Bringing Healthy Foods into the Cafeterias, “you need to work on introducing more meats and vegetables into your school. As Chief Cook and Bottle Washer, you are the man in charge of obtaining the groceries, are you not?”

“I am,” said Mr. Lennon. “I am also responsible for making sure I buy groceries the children are likely to eat. You have on the list,” and here Mr. Lennon unfolded a sheet of paper and propped up his spectacles on the bridge of his nose, “pork chops, chicken, carrots, corn, and broccoli.” He looked up from his paper and frowned at the Chairman. “And now there is another thing you’d like me to add to this horrendous list?”

The Chairman cleared his throat and leaned his elbows upon his desk.

“All we are saying, Mr. Lennon, is give peas a chance.”

 

This post is part of SoCS! Find it here: http://lindaghill.wordpress.com/2014/09/12/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-september-1314/

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Badge courtesy of Doobster @ Mindful Digressions