Ink After Dark - Monster Mash Flash Fiction competition

This is my entry for the Monster Mash Flash Fiction Competition. I went for the 'Dark' side, obviously, because for me scary can't be anything else. Enjoy.

In the Dark, They Sing

Over bumpy roads Crowley drove back to the sanctuary. His heart lifted upon sight of the derelict building it resided beneath, black against the night sky. It had been a long week.

They heard him enter, their cries bringing a smile to his lips, and washing away the remnants of his arduous week. He’d missed them – and them him. A week alone was long, he knew that.

He went about his ministrations, giving the minimum needed to sustain them; their outstretched hands grabbing what they could, a few lucky ones grabbing more.

As they settled, he did too, taking his place in the worn armchair positioned in the centre of the cavernous room facing the cell doors. Eyes peered between bars set into thick oak. It afforded him protection, until he opened them. But it was early yet, and he had to nurse a week out in the real world first.

He unscrewed the bourbon, enjoying its glint in the lantern light. He relished the first sip, the fire awaking his soul as it warmed his body. It wouldn’t take many to bring him back to life tonight.

They watched him as he drank, knowing.

After just two he stood up, hearing their collective breaths as he walked to the back of the room to the CD player. He needed something dark and heavy tonight, something that would talk to his soul. He knew the one he needed, and they knew it too once he put it on.

He heard their murmurs when the first chords came through the tiny speakers, and he felt their eyes on him as he walked to the corner to fetch the keys, the rattle of which seemed to heighten their voices, bringing out their melodic high pitched tones. His mood lifted further; this was always his favourite part.

They shrank back as he turned the key in each lock, but he let them do the opening tonight; he was in no hurry. Instead he returned to his chair and the amber liquid that enhanced his enjoyment.

The door in the middle creaked open. Crowley knew she’d be first; she was bolder than the others, more daring. She slithered out, pressing herself against the wall, and then sliding down it, relieved to be out.

Her nakedness aroused him, but he remained seated, knowing she would come to him in her own time, but only once the others were out too. They were a collective – it was why he enjoyed them so much.

As they appeared they drew together like magnets, huddling close, their unique forms fitting like a writhing puzzle. He watched their constant motion as they stroked and caressed each other, comforting and titillating at the same time. Once fully awake and excited they turned their gaze on him, with a sparkle in their eyes. It was his turn to inhale.

Crowley set his drink down, and loosened his trousers, bracing himself for their onslaught. Capturing dark forest fairies was one thing, but satiating their lurid desires was another. He’d learnt to hold his own under their frenzied devouring of all he had to offer, and although he might be left raw, he was never left wanting. He didn’t know if he could ever let them go, and in the peaks of their coupling, he hoped they didn’t want him to.

55 Word Challenge is back! - Death

The 55 Word Challenge is back! - and so am I after a bit of a hiatus, although my flash fiction writing will continue to be significantly reduced. I do have plans for something else thing else though, so stay tuned, it will be coming soon.

In the meantime, this is my entry for this wonderful little challenge, hosted by Lisa Hollar.

She turned over the card, shivering in the candle light as Death stared up at her. But whether it portended an actual Death or a transformation depended on the next card. She flipped it over with trembling hand to reveal the Falling Tower. Her stomach sank as the back door rattled and candle blew out. 

Visual Dare - Safe

And here is the other late entry for Visual Dare This photo had to be written for, and although it doesn't have to relate to homeless children (it could be a child camping out on a hot night), it is what I saw. Enjoy.

 

Joppy was no longer on the ground and that counted for a lot. It put him one step above the rest and free from the fight over bedding.

He laid out his prize across the worn fire escape, and made a nest, ignoring the creak and groans of the rusting metalwork.

The boarded up windows in the building meant he wouldn’t be hassled by any residence and told, for the umpteenth time, to move along. People didn’t see a child; they only saw a pest; a scavenger ruining their pristine garbage; a parasite leeching off them; a stain marring their guilt free conscience.

But this location was safe from that, at least for as long as the iron held. 

122 Words

Visual Dare - Voice

I am late with these Visual Dare entries, because I hand wrote them during the school holidays and didn't get a chance to type and post them. Parenting got in the way! But as I am winding down my entering of flash challenges, due to bringing my novel writing and editing into focus, I wanted to share them anyway.

I particularly wanted to write for 'Voice' due to it personal meaning. Yes, this piece is autobiographical.

 

When the man from social services turned up at the door we thought the Johnson’s over the road must have called them, although the report of hearing a child screaming ‘leave me alone’ had been wrong – no one had been screaming that.

He asked to see all the children, so our stepfather lined us all up prim and proper in the huge entrance hall with its high polished wooden parquet flooring. And I kept quiet that it had been me screaming ‘leave mummy alone.’ But the man wasn’t convinced and asked to see our mother too, knowing there was more this story.

My stepfather called her, and I didn’t turn round as she came downstairs sporting the split lip she’d received that morning.

The man didn’t speak, he just wrote in his notebook and left, my stepfather following suit half an hour later, bringing an end to the nightly terrors. 

150 Words

Daily Picspiration - Ebbing

The next set of pictures for my Daily Picspiration entry didn't give me anything to follow on the last story, so it gets left hanging. And the two photos provided were offering two very different stories, so I had to pick one. 

The one I chose is also my ending story. After over two years of writing for Daily Picspiration I have decided to stop, as I need to claw back time and get focused on my main writing aim - novel writing. I also need to concentrate more on editing - not only on my own work but on those of others who are paying me for doing something I love! (critiquing, editing and helping them with their writing).

I have really enjoyed my time at Daily Picspiration but I know that if I miss it too much I can return. Nothing worse than feeling like you are leaving the party right in the middle of it, but needs must. So for my closing entry we go short and dark to round it up nicely. 

Posted on Sunday 23rd of August - you can read 'Ebbing' here.

Walked - MWBB

Due to holidays it has been a while since I have entertained a Mid-Week Blues-Buster entry. Initially I couldn't access this song and didn't plan to write. Then another writing friend was persistent in offering all sorts of links to see if I could get it to work here in Holland, and finally he did! So then I listened and this is what arrived. It's more of a snippet I think than an actually complete story in a flash - I could have written on for ages. And it didn't rank for this reason I think. Anyway, I liked it and thought it worth posting. Enjoy.

Song prompt:

Say Goodbye, by Eva Cassidy

She saw him walk into the bar with his friends and ignored the flutter in her stomach as she finished polishing the glass she had in her hand, adding it to the shelf behind her. Would he recognise her? Part of her hoped he would, part of her hoped he wouldn’t. Either way he was heading to the bar and she was the only one to serve him.

She turned as he arrived at the counter, and his reaction was immediate: frozen, mouth half open about to give her his order.

“Hey Greg.”

“Melissa! Shit.”

She gave him a small smile. “What can I get you?”

He blinked, like a visual stutter, and said, “They’re looking for you. They’re worried sick.”

She sighed and gave him a resigned look. “I finish in fifteen minutes. I can talk then if you like, but for now I need your drinks order.”

He seemed a little shell-shocked by her response, and gave her the order, but when she handed him the change, he said, “Come over when you’re done, we need to talk.”

She watched him rejoin his friends, catching his eye a couple of times as he checked to see if she was still there. She finished up her afternoon shift, looking forward to being off her feet and not facing the hordes of tourists coming into tonight. With the holiday season warming up, it was getting busy in this little corner of Spain and it wouldn’t be long before the days would be the same as the nights, just one long party – except for those working.

She poured a drink and came out from behind the bar, heading straight towards him. “Shall we sit outside? I need some air.”

He was ready, and stood up immediately, glass in hand, following her out.

As they settled into their seats on the terrace, she asked the question that was foremost in her mind, “How do you know anyone’s looking for me? I shut down all my social media accounts when I left.”

“Johnny PM’d me a few months after you left, on the off chance you’d been in touch and said something.”

“Why would I do that?”

Greg shrugged. “It was a shot in the dark. He clearly knew you used to PM me.”

Melissa smiled. “Johnny knew everything. Him and Stacey are the only two I really miss.”

Greg pulled a face. “What you don’t even miss your own children?!”

Melissa’s smile dropped. “I’m sure they’re fine. It’s been three years. They will have adjusted by now.”

Greg gently shook his head. “I didn’t understand it then, and I don’t now. Why did you go? Don’t you feel any remorse?”

“Remorse? I didn’t commit a crime; I left my husband.”

“But you hurt so many people!” Greg was angry. Melissa found that incredulous.

“What do you care?”

“I always cared. You knew that.”

“Did I? How? From the one liners I’d get in response to several PMs?”

“You had marital issues, I wasn’t getting in the middle of that.”

“Exactly – so you do know why I left.”

Greg faltered. Melissa took the opportunity to sip her drink. Greg nursed his, but from his expression there was more to come.

“Tell me Greg, what is it you want to say to me?”

“I think you should call him.”

“Who?”

“Your husband.”

“Why?”

“To let him know you’re alive and well.”

“And how will that help?”

“He’ll know you’re okay, and the kids will too.”

“I repeat, and how will that help – if anything it’ll make it worse.”

“How?”

“Hi Rich, hi kids, just calling to say I’m okay and alive, but I’m still not coming back.”

“But it’ll give them closure at least.”

“No it won’t, it’ll open old wounds.”

“Don’t you want to see your kids again?”

“Do I deserve to? They’re better off without me. I wasn’t making them happy – I wasn’t making anyone happy!”

“You don’t know that.”

“Oh yes I do.” There was an awkward pause. “Tell me Greg is that all you wanted to say?”

He looked at her and murmured, “No. I want you to know I missed you too, and I was worried sick too.”

Daily Picspiration - Pick-up

When I saw these pictures for my next Daily Picspiration entry, I couldn't really see them separately, so when I started to write the tale I wasn't sure what was coming. And what has arrived might well turn into a serial because I'm not quite sure where it is going to lead. But I do enjoy the journey. Hope you do too. 

Posted on Sunday 9th of August - you can read 'Pick-up' here.