Tag: fiction

Four Sentence Stories (Part 4)

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All of the windows and doors were gone when he awoke, finding that the walls now continued uninterrupted in their place. He tried to scream for help, but was horrified to find that his mouth was gone, the lower half of his face now smooth, continuous flesh. He tried to quell his panic by closing his eyes and counting to ten.

On the eleventh second of darkness, he realised his mistake.

The intruder alarm blared as the couple raced to their panic room.

Sealing the door, one turned on a screen to see a masked man at the front door, who now ceased prying at the door and waved cheerily at the camera. The other tried to call the police on the landline, but was horrified to not hear a dial tone.

Neither noticed the cupboard door slowly opening as man in an identical mask slowly emerged.

The Birdhouse

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There is something living in the birdhouse. I am very certain it is not a bird.

I did see a bird land there once, in the dappled sunlight. I watched it poke its head hesitantly through the hole. I saw it suddenly pulled inside. I saw the coins thrown out and onto the ground. The lack of birdsong in the Summer months made sense to me after that.

I kept the coins as recompense for losing the birdsong. My parents did not care much for wildlife. The birdhouse had been there when we moved in and they only did the bare minimum to take care of the garden, not bothering to inspect it. My older brother said the birds annoyed him. Everything annoyed him, actually. Especially me. That was his excuse to wear noise-cancelling headphones all the time and never talk to me.

I took food to the birdhouse. I tried birdseed, at first. It did not drop any money, but the next morning there were coins and feathers covered in blood on the grass. It wanted meat.

I took it bits of dinner and lunchmeat picked from sandwiches. I was careful to use tongs to put the food inside. Whatever was inside had a vice-like grip. It would grab at the tongs, tearing the morsels from them and only relinquishing the metal after gnawing them to test for further food. The teeth must have been sharp, to leave gouges in the metal.

My brother started getting suspicious. He asked why a brat with no job had so much money. He took my money box and said he would tell my parents about it if I complained.

I told him I found a stash of money in the old birdhouse out back. I told him it was right at the back and that he would have to reach all the way inside.

Comfortable Horror

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Sarah had never married
Not that she’d make a bad wife
But with her strange adventures
She did not think she suited married life

She fed the witch’s familiars
As their owners flew across the sky
They appreciated her kind care
And left gifts when they stopped by

Each month she left a change of clothes
Draped over a naked, exhausted frame
Once recovered, the werewolf gave thanks
And left her a good share of game

She had long chats with a vampire
and although she never invited him inside
When the daylight found him
She loaned him an umbrella to hide

Her parents had told her, when she’d asked
That babies come from the cabbage patch
So it was not that strange to her
When she heard a cry from the field out back

The baby was not quite right, however.
He’d clearly grown from the wrong crop
His head was a bit big, his complexion odd
But he needed care and she’d give it, full stop

Sarah bundled up the newborn babe
She took him home and put him to bed
She cared for and loved him all her days
Her little boy with a pumpkin head

Two Sentence Stories (Part 14)

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I would have lost my mind in grief when my oldest son disappeared, but at the time I had to focus on my newborn baby daughter. But now she is the same age her brother was, describing the same imaginary friend.

The trick to finding your way through any maze was to keep your hand on one wall and follow it all the way around. But now he noticed the wall ahead already had dried blood on it, at the same height that his raw and bleeding hand had been for hours.

The laptop screen went black and despite her best efforts, everything was gone: her photos, her novel, her thesis. Words appeared on the screen, asking what she was willing to do to get them back.

Stages

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It was only a small bite
But the skin had turned green
And scales had begun to grow,
so he knew for certain that the foot had to go

The next day he awoke and checked
He saw the scales climbing up his shin
and within second he was sure
He needed only take off a bit more

He took the leg off up to his hip
But the next day the other leg looked green
So he made his choice and braced
Ready to cut everything from his waist

He was always certain it was the last bit
Then he would be completely fine
But every day it was a little bit more
Leaving spare parts over the floor

He was a torso, head and arms
But each arm then needed to go
Then his torso began to moulder
so at last he took his head from his shoulders

Now the parts would not stay still
They reached out for each other
and a different body slowly grew
old parts making something new

His head watched from the floor
As hands lifted him onto a new neck
looking in the mirror, he saw the monstrous grin
in his reflection was the monster that bit him.

Office

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It is 9:02 am and I have not slept. My head aches but my heart is beating too fast for coffee. I am at my desk.

I need to staple these papers. The stapler is not where I left it. I look and move everything on the desk, but it is not there. I paperclip the papers and file them. The stapler is now where I left it.

Someone calls. They call me by someone else’s name. They’re probably right. It’s fine.

I spin in my chair to face my screen. I go too far and let myself revolve again. The screen is asleep by the time I stop.

I send an email. It arrives in my inbox, from someone else. It asks if I’m OK. I don’t reply.

I feel in my bag for lunch. I check the time. It is 9:10 am.

At the Bottom of the Well

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There is something living in the bottom of the well
If you drop in just the right gift, it will offer a spell
Teeth, coins, oddities and various bric-a-brac
Once a gift is dropped it is well-paid back

A girl dropped in her doll, a gift from mother to daughter
Her childhood favourite now sunken underwater
She asked for beauty, something for which she had prayed
Each morning she awakes, shining hair in a perfect braid

One lad dropped the blanket his grandma had knitted
Long outgrown but still beloved, his tears admitted
He asked for his muscles to swell without effort
He often wakes sore, like his limbs were subject to violent sport

Most people wish for fortune and small blessings
Careful to offer enough and to be polite in addressing
But some call for darker acts to be committed
But with the right payment, this is also permitted

Enemies disappear quietly into the dark
Nail scratches on floorboards their only remaining mark
But those who ask for this and offer less than their best
Will find themselves facing their own request

There is something living in the bottom of the well
And if not paid its fees, it will take you there as well
But its greatest gift is that it lets everyone believe
That it lives only in the well, and does not leave

Nightcap

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There was a fight in the alleyway.

Half-drunk, Hal considered walking away. He couldn’t help anyone in this state. But still, he found himself shambling towards the sounds of scuffling and muffled curses.

There were two men. One was pale and dressed all in black while the other was in jeans and a faded t-shirt. The pale one was grabbing the other man by the throat and trying to get in close. His mouth was open. He had such sharp teeth. Hal didn’t notice the garbage bin until he knocked into it. The sudden sound drew both of their attention and Hal decided to yell, as confidently as he could, for them to stop.

The man in the t-shirt took the opportunity to throw something to the ground, away from the fight. Following the clattering sound, Hal saw something sharp land on the ground. It had not sounded like metal hitting concrete, it had sounded like… wood?

It landed near Hal and he stumbled as he bent to pick it up. The man in the t-shirt called for his help, that his assailant kept trying to bite him. Hal put it in his pocket and moved forward to try to grapple the pale man.

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Widower

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She had left in the middle of the night
A note left behind asking for forgiveness
Explaining that she had taken a lover
But leaving no forwarding address

He was embarrassed and depressed
His wife departed for greener grass
When asked about her whereabouts
He chose to say that she had passed

He had more homemade meals
than in fifteen years of married life
He had friends and neighbours for company
And he barely missed his wife

One night she returned, distraught
Her lover had decided to roam
So she, with nowhere else to go
Decided it was time to come home

He quickly ushered her inside
And told her all was forgiven
He made her favourite drink
And she drank what she was given

He watched her finish, greedily
and collapse onto the floor below her
It was lovely that she had returned
But he would rather be a widower

Closed

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The fog arrived an hour before the ship, rolling onto the shores and fillings the streets. The ship, far too large for the available docks, beached itself on the small patch of sand on the lakeshore.

It was well after dark, but the sound drew many of the townsfolk to the shoreline. They watched as the crew stepped over the sides, falling from the ship. Those that landed in shallow water waited patiently as those that fell upon the rocks were forced to take time to set broken legs which showed through translucent skin. Together, the entire crew began to walk through the town.

The townsfolk who had watched from the shore now hid in their hastily locked and barricaded homes with their families. Some heard knocking at their doors, tapping at their windows, footsteps on the roof. Those brave enough to approach their thresholds could hear what sounded like pleas, but what remained of the crew’s vocal cords was not enough form words.

By dawn the fog had receded and the ship had disappeared. The townsfolk stared at the footprints and depression left on the shore of the lake and wondered what would have happened, had they opened their doors.