Horror Bites - Tinkering

Here's my entry for the new Horror Bites challenge, hosted by Laura Jamez. A a photo prompt challenge, where you have to write a horror piece to a set word count.

Mandy rolled a gel ball around between her fingers. She found the motion soothing. She needed soothing after the row they’d just had. He’d stormed out as usual, revved the engine of his motorbike and squealed off up the road.

She didn’t have the luxury of buggering off when things got tough. She couldn’t drive. It’s how he liked to keep her: financially dependent, kids, unable to read, and unable to drive. He’d kept her this way since she was fifteen. He liked the control it gave him – and she knew it.

But he didn’t know she did.

He thought she was dumb, but the older she got the more she understood. And once she’d discovered audio books, she’d understood a whole lot more.

She looked at the gel balls in the glass, how they were clear at the top and grew darker as they reached the bottom – although the ones at the bottom weren’t gel, they were metal.

The doorbell rang. She opened the door a crack and saw two uniformed policemen standing there.

“Mrs McNally?”

“Yes?”

“I’m PC Banes. Does your husband own a Honda GTX motorcycle?”

“Yes.”

“May we come in?”

Mandy opened the door and led them into the lounge. They remained standing.

“I’m afraid we have some bad news for you. I think you might need to sit down.”

Mandy sat, her eyes on the PC. “We’re not quite sure how it happened yet, but it appears your husband lost control of the bike ...”

Mandy caught sight of her phone while the PC continued to tell her how her husband hadn’t made it to the hospital alive. She glanced down at it and saw it was still on; the book she had been listening was still playing. It was what had caused the row – him finding out she’d been listening to books.

Fortunately it was a different one to the book she’d been studying the last few weeks. That one had helped her through the difficult bits when tinkering with his motorbike in the garage while he’d been out at work. 


Word Count: 348

Mid-Week Flash Challenge - Week 5

Last weeks challenge brought two entries. I had hoped it would inspire more, but maybe it was a little intimidating. Hopefully this week's photo will elicit more. 

This week's prompt photo was created by Marcela Bolivar, a digital artist from Columbia. You can check out some of her other wonderful creations on her website here.

This photo provides many different interpretations. I am interested in what others might make of it. This is what I came up with.

The General Guidelines can be found here.  

Once Bitten Twice Shy 

He carried the pain around with him as though it was on display. He thought others could see it as though his chest were made of glass and people could see inside, see the damaged darkness where there was once a heart – once a happy healthy heart, full of joy and love and giving. But it was no more. It was now an aching husk of darkness that poisoned his body, draining it of energy, of any desire, of any point of being.

He wanted it to end, but he didn’t have the guts to. He couldn’t quite bring himself to step out of this life. There was guilt at what it might do to those around him, those that felt they were good and close friends. And there were those that flung the word selfish around when people took their lives, which led him back to the guilt. Although he always believed that was a reflection of themselves: how they felt wrong and selfish for not understanding. No one knows the pain another suffers, let alone should judge it. 

He imagined being free of this pain; imagined throwing off the shackles of the dead weight it brought to his life. But it did little to change anything. She was gone. She was just a shadow in his heart. She had come, wrought her damage and left. Turned her back and walked away. He could even see her in his mind’s eye, walking away across a field, while he was unable to move or call out and stop her.

It was the risk he had taken; one he would never take again – or so he told himself. 

Horror Bites - Mist

And one more belated entry for Horror Bites, hosted by Laura Jamez, to bring me up to speed, and ready for the new challenge. A a photo prompt challenge, where you have to write a horror piece to a set word count.

My entry to challenge #5

Mist

Reg frantically rubbed at the inside of the windscreen, but it made no difference, the mist was outside, not in the car. It had come on so suddenly it unnerved him. He hated driving at night as it was. It served him right for taking up tennis in the winter months; driving home in the dark was a given with dusk falling at 4pm. He was a summer person, he hated winter.

He swerved sharply to miss someone standing at the edge of the road. He looked in his rear view mirror but the mist had enveloped them. Who would want to be out in this?

Then there was another. He just spotted them in time, hearing the screech of his tyres as they twisted on the wet road. But as he avoided them another came into view, until all he could see along either side of the road were outlines of people.

In the dim foggy light he couldn’t make out their features, but they didn’t seem to be moving very fast. He slowed down, wondering where they were had come from. Could there be some kind of concert in the area? It was all countryside round these parts, but surely it was too cold for one of them raves.

At the reduced speed some of their features came into view. Reg wondered if he was seeing things; they all seemed to be slack jawed with their mouths hanging open and arms dangling at their sides. And he was so busy staring he didn’t spot the few that had wandered into the road until he felt the thud of a body hitting the bonnet.

He came to a sharp halt, and jumped out, running round to the front of the car to see who he had hit. It was a bad move. He didn’t see them turn towards him as he squatted down to check the pulse of the person on the ground, and as he readied himself to give mouth to mouth resuscitation he didn’t look up.

He was pushed forward onto the body as someone fell on top of him, and when another body fell on top of that he was pinned to body on the ground. He felt the last of the air in his lungs expel when several more dropped on top, and as he lay gasping, all Reg could think was how he planned to have pasta for his tea. 

Word Count: 406 

Horror Bites - Demon

Horror Bites, hosted by Laura Jamez, has started up again, reminding me that I am not up to date with my entries, so here is my entry to #3.

It is a photo prompt challenge, where you have to write a horror piece to a set word count.

When she returned to the seating he was gone; only his empty juice box remained. Maggie ran her hand through her hair as her eyes scoured the platform. He couldn’t have gone far.

Most mother’s would worry someone had snatched their kid, but not Maggie. She knew better. He’d been encouraged to play hide and seek again. She’d tried to teach him that he needed to keep control in public places, but he was still too young, Jake would get the better of him. She sighed and bit her lip. People didn’t take kindly to Jake’s games – they hurt. She’d lost count of the amount of times they’d ended up in the police station.

She caught a glimpse of blond hair as a woman leapt forward suddenly clutching the back of her leg. Maggie moved in that direction, taking her time, acting nonchalant. If Jake thought he had been spotted it could get dangerous. Then she heard a ‘Hey!’ shouted from the other end of the platform.

People were starting to look round, nervous expressions on their faces.

“Where ARE you?” Maggie muttered under her breath. She stood still and saw movement in her peripheral vision. She stuck out an arm behind her and grabbed, catching material. Then she heard a rip and her hand was empty. Damn!

A woman screamed and she heard shouting from a guard. Christ, he was escalating; this could get really bad.

Then the rumble of an approaching train began and people started moving forward to the edge of the platform. Maggie moved backwards even though this was their train. Jake would be weaving through people; it’s what he liked doing best. She would get a better view from behind.

She saw what appeared to be jostling to the right and moved in fast. She needed to grab him now. She didn’t want to think about what would happen if someone ended up pushed onto the platform.

She lunged between two people, startling them, and caught the collar of a coat, yanking a wriggling child back. As she dragged Jake back she ignored the judgmental looks, only registering his eyes rolling, and the dark irises. He turned and bared his teeth at her, snapping at her hands as she firmly took hold of his face and crouched down in front of him.

“Alfie? Come back right now. Do you hear me? I need you back right now!” She held the shaking head steady, ignoring the growls, and waited. “Alfie! We need to go now!”

Movement reduced as blue returned to the irises and the eyes stopped rolling. They focused on her. He smiled. “Hey mummy.”

“Hey baby, time to go.”

“Do we have to? Jake likes it here.”

“I can see he does, but Alfie, Jake has to stay hidden you know that.”

“But why mummy?”

“I told you. People don’t like Demons, they’re scared of them.”

“Oh, okay.”

Alfie took his mum’s hand as they climbed onto the train.

Word Count: 495 

 

Mid-Week Flash Challenge - Week 4

Three great entries for last week's challenge.  You can still write for it if you like.

The General Guidelines can be found here. 

This week's prompt photo is Lapse by Camden Heibel-Schmidt, a photo manipulation artist over on Deviant Art called DarkStar797.

Identity

Doctor Caseon shrugged. “I’m not sure how it works. It could take years to find out.”

“But imagine the possibilities.” Doctor Janis looked at the iris again through the microscope. “It’s incredible.”

“I know. But meantime the patient: Are they the only person with this installed? Where did they come from?”

Doctor Janis pushed back his wheelie chair and stood up, perusing the unconscious patient. “They’re not from Sector 8 that much is clear from the skin tone and ear shape.” He pointed to the low lobes, how they reached far under the chin. “Those indicate further out round Sector 15.”

“By the uncharted border?” Docter Caseon looked doubtful.

“Yes, why not?”

“I’ve seen that ear construction on Sector 10’s and Sector 11’s.”

“Yes, but, although their lobes are long, they don’t have tops. Look at these, they do.”

Doctor Caseon stepped forward to see where Doctor Janis was pointing. The ear was fully developed at the top too. “But we have no idea what might have been manipulated on the body though. If they can do this to irises, they can do anything to any body part. Who brought them in?”

“They were found in one of the immigration sweeps, so it would have been PTD, the police terror division.”

“Arh, so retina scan didn’t compute?”

“Nope.”

“Not a surprise. But a full body scan has been done, hasn’t it? We do know this isn’t a cyborg of some sort, don’t we?”

Doctor Janis’ eyes widened. “It was brought here to us when the scan didn’t work. There was no mention of a body scan.”

Both men took two steps back from the body that was lying peacefully in the chair. The last time cyborgs had been reported in Sector 8 there had been a planet wide lock down for several months, the hundred year war still fresh in everyone’s minds. A repeat of such an event did not appeal to the doctors.

“Inject it. See how deep the flesh is.” Doctor Caseon flapped his hand at a syringe on the counter.’

Doctor Janis grabbed one and took a tentative step forward. Then he hesitated. “But if it is a cyborg, how is it unconscious? They can’t be knocked out without damage to the skull.”

The two doctors paused, staring at each other. Doctor Caseon relaxed a little. “It can’t be then. The thing in its eye has to be a human implant.”

They moved forward together with caution. Doctor Janis still had the syringe in his hand. “It can’t hurt to check though, right?”

He slid the needle under the skin on the forearm of the patient. A faint whirring noise was audible. Doctor Caseon looked through the microscope. “The hands of the clock have started spinning! I can see cogs moving!”

The arm with the syringe came up and hit Doctor Janis under the chin, flinging him up and back into the air. He landed against the wall of the lab with a crash. Blood from where his head made contact leaving a halo on the wall.

The patient’s other arm came up and grabbed Doctor Caseon round the throat. It pulled him in until their noses almost touched.

“Don’t do that again; I hate needles.”

  

 

Mid-Week Flash Challenge - Week 3

Last week's photo pulled in four marvellous entries. It inspired them in such unique ways.

Feel free to join in with previous challenges if this one doesn't inspire you. There is no closing date, and I love reading your entries.

Initially I had another picture in mind for this week's Mid-Week Flash Challenge, but this one spoke to me first. I couldn't resist his beckoning hands and intense gaze. What is he saying to you?

He was taken by Ekaterina Zakharova, a Russian photographer who named him '1Fairy'. She normally photographs nude males, but this guy is only 16! (or was when this was taken). You can find more on her Deviant Art page.

The General Guidelines are here.  Now go write!

Family Ties 

Catherine’s startled reaction was tempered by the sprites playful nature and beckoning arms, particularly his electric blue eyes that delved into the deepest parts of her soul.

She knew the woodlands around her aunt and uncle’s estate were alive with wonders and miracles, and she had hoped to meet some of the characters from the stories she had been told, but up until today they had only been glimpses and peripheral movements.

She wondered if her coming of age party on the lawn yesterday had done the trick; maybe once you turned sixteen it became permissible.

The sprite in front of her should certainly come with an age restriction; his semi-clad body causing a flush in her cheeks as he danced in front of her, moving slowly backwards, drawing her into the thickest parts of the wood. She was happy to follow; her curiosity ignited by his silent alluring manner and mischievous grin.

Eventually they came to a clearing, reached by pushing through a dense thicket which her guide pushed back for her, to bring her through safely. Initially they were alone in the clearing and his continued intense gaze sparked thoughts of romance in her mind. Butterflies took flight inside and out, and Catherine waited in anticipation for his next move.

But the silence was broken by laughter nearby, which caused the sprite to erupt in the same, the light sing-song of his voice like wind in chimes. Bodies burst through the undergrowth surrounding them, and danced around her, creating a myriad of colour. Swaths of material rushed through the air, which seemed full of petals and seed pods swirling around them in the late midsummer afternoon. All manner of mythical creatures danced past, each slightly different from the next, all enchanting and full of an energy that seemed to glow around them.

Their enjoyment was infectious. Catherine joined in, taking their hands and moving with them in time to the slowly manifesting music as more fairies joined playing pipes and small hand drums.

Catherine grew dizzy with the movement and the giggling. She wasn’t sure if she was spinning or the woods around her were, until eventually she found herself lying on her back giggling up at the blue sky, lost in the magic of the sounds.

Those sounds became faint as they were overtaken by voices calling her name. She sat up to find herself alone, and her parents pushing through the foliage with worried expressions on their faces.

“Catherine, are you alright? We couldn’t find you?” Her mother came to her side and put her arms around her.

“I’m fine mum, I was just ...” Catherine looked around her. How was she going to explain this? “I was just enjoying the sounds of the woods.”

Her dad smiled. “They found you, didn’t they?”

“Who?” Catherine put on her best innocent look. Her mother laughed.

“We knew they would when you turned sixteen, it’s the right of passage.”

“Right of passage to what?”

Her dad squatted down next to her. “To becoming a guardian of one of the best kept secrets in this family.”

He looked at her solemnly, his blues eyes glinting in a way that reminded her of the sprite.

“I won’t breathe a word of it, I promise.”

He laughed, the pitch identical to that of the sprite’s, and ruffled the top of her head. “I know you won’t. Blood is thicker than water; you wouldn’t betray members of your own family.”

Catherine smiled as her mum pulled her up to her feet and took her arm, leading her back through the underbrush. But her father’s words stayed with her as she pondered them: my own family?

Mid-Week Flash Challenge - Week 2

There were three marvellous entries to Week 1, which is a good start as we gain some traction.

And two other flash fiction competitions that are currently running were shared:

Microcosm on twitter here. Every Friday.

The Angry Hour Glass, Flash frenzy, host by Rebecca J Allred. Every Saturday.


Here is the next Flash Fiction prompt for Week 2 of the Mid-Week Flash Challenge.

You can find the General Guidelines here. 

Art is by Kasia Derwinska, a polish art photographer.

Hope 

She had sucked it dry of all there was; there was nothing left for her here. As Maddy turned from the drying husk of the man that had once been her lover, she embraced the view of the future. Would it withstand her needs and wants? Would it bring her replenishment and sanctuary? Would it be worth her efforts should she risk love and devotion again?

The land ahead was open, devoid of any richness, but the sky was bright and hopeful and there were tracks. Those tracks meant she wouldn’t be alone forever, that there might be others in her life if she let them in.

She tempered her doubts and scepticism and took a deep breath. She had to muster her strength and push forward; there was nothing behind her but dust in the wind. Only by putting one foot in front of the other would there be hope and a chance at joy.

Again she fought the thoughts that chuckled at such an absurdity. She did still have time, she argued, and plenty to offer, but not if she continued to stand here.

She stepped into the view, and once the light from the bright sky touched her skin she felt refreshed and renewed. In the distance soft outlines began to emerge of future places and events. Her heart lifted. She had done the right thing, and her thoughts were quiet, muted by the truth of her conviction. There was life out there to be found, and she was going to be a part of it.