Tag Archive | Flash Fiction

Sunday Scribbles: Out For A Run

Feb5

This isn’t actually a writing prompt. This idea for a short flash fiction came to me while I was in the shower. Once I was dry and dressed I went to the computer, sat down, and just wrote.

I missed last week due to picking up two extra shifts at work on the days I would normally sit down and write my Sunday Scribble. Oh well.

© Creativecommonsstockphotos | Dreamstime Stock Photos

 

Out For A Run

 

My breath comes in in gasps. My hair whips around my face, lashing at my skin. I keep running. Just one more mile and I’m done. One more mile and I’ll have set my personal best record. I keep running, fighting through the pain.

The path I’ve mapped out takes me off the main pedestrian trail and onto a smaller side one. It’s not paved, the dirt loose and rocky. It isn’t used often, but I don’t care. I like the challenge the uneven ground has to offer.

It feels as though the trees are closing in around me as I continue my pace down the eerie path. I refuse to let my body slow down, even though my lungs are burning. I focus on the bright light at the end of the trail, where the sun is shining, trying to fight it’s way through the thick trees around me. I stare at that light, knowing the end is in sight.

My foot catches on something. A rock? I don’t have time to look before I find myself splayed across the ground, coughing up the dirt and dust I’ve inhaled as I gasp to catch my breath and find my bearings.

The smell hits me first. I don’t know why I didn’t notice it sooner. I gag and try to hold onto my breakfast as I scramble to my hands and knees, swiveling my body around to find the source of that odor. I fall to my butt, my hands braced on the ground behind me. When I find my target I’m surprised I don’t throw up. I think I’m too shocked.

Small, whitish-yellow maggots are squirming over what appears to be a branch or log. I look down at my running shoes and see a few stuck to the laces. I shriek, kicking my feet wildly, trying to fling them off. They cling for dear life and I scramble around with my hands to find a stick to knock them off of me. After searching the rest of my person for more of the vile creatures, I take a moment to catch my breath. I’ve forgotten about my run.

I squint at the maggot covered object. The more I look at it, the more I realize it doesn’t really look like a stick or a log at all. Taking the stick I had used to knock the maggots off my shoe I stand and poke at the object, scraping the maggots off.

I stumble away, dropping the stick. I can feel my heart beating in my ears.

Bone.

The maggots I’ve cleared away have revealed bone. Bone covered in decaying flesh. And the real shocker, a human foot, complete with dirty pink running shoe.

I inhale sharply, ready to scream.

Before the breath can escape, I feel someone behind me. A hand closes over my mouth, the leather of its glove catching my scream.

 

Sunday Scribbles: Are You Afraid of the Dark

Jan21

Each week I read a writing prompt and write the first thing that pops into my head.

 

You, a grown adult, are afraid of the dark.

Explain why this is a legitimate concern, so your friends won’t laugh at you.

 

Look, I know what you’re thinking. Someone in their thirties shouldn’t be afraid of the dark. But I am, and you should be too. This is no laughing matter. You know what’s out there in the dark? Neither do I. It’s dark.

Have you ever tried to find your way to the bathroom in the dark? I bet you ran into a door, a wall, or the corner of a dresser. That wouldn’t happen in the light.

You know what the darkness hides? Shadows. I’ve seen Doctor Who. I know to count the shadows. If the shadows get me, I’m a goner. No thank you.

Just about every scary movie I’ve seen has any number of reasons to be terrified of the dark. Monsters, demons, psychopathic killers with knives or chainsaws. If it were light, we would have seen them coming.

I read an article recently. It talked about how like, these rats were forced to smell something, then they were given a shock of electricity. They soon learned to associate that smell with pain, and they were afraid. They were then bred, and you know what? Their offspring would smell the scent that their parent was trained to fear, and they were afraid. That’s right, having never been shocked themselves, their DNA they inherited from their parent was changed so that they were afraid of that smell. I’m pretty sure everyone is actually afraid of the dark. It’s a primal fear. From when we lived in caves. Or ran from dinosaurs. Or whatever. Sabertooth Tigers probably hid in the dark. And they’re scary as hell.

So if you say you’re not afraid of the dark, you’re probably lying.

Because you should be.