Horror Story for Halloween

October 30, 2018

My room was pitch black as the electricity supply had been cut.  The screaming had stopped but the floorboards creaked.  Before the silence I had heard someone cry out, “He’s got an axe!”  I heard the sound of dripping.  Was it blood falling from the axe?  Sounds like scrapping came from the direction of the door.  I cowered on my bed pulling the blankets around me.  Then I heard a voice.

It was a raspy male voice which spoke in a whisper.  “Open the door, Dorothy.  And it will be over quickly.”

There was a pause while he waited for a response which I dare not give.

“If you do not comply I will use my knife and not the axe.”

Another pause followed.

“It will be slower.  First I will cut your vocal cords so you cannot hear yourself scream when I cut you open.  I have a light with me so you will see everything that happens to you.  You will see your internal organs as you die but open the door and I will use the axe.  Any pain will soon be gone.

It was if I was in a bad dream.  But I was not.

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Flash Fiction – and it turned out to be Raspberry Jam

September 23, 2018


 

 

 

Derek put down his trumpet and asked, “What do you think of that?”

“Far out, Man, “whispered Clive.  “It were great.”

“It was certainly the best piece of improvised Jazz I’ve heard in a long time,” agreed Clare.  “But I don’t understand why you made that vulgar noise in the middle.”

“It sort of went with the mood,” said Derek.

Clive nodded his approval and murmured, “Cool.”

“Well, I think it spoils it and should be taken out.”

Derek studied the three members of his trio carefully.  Clare, the clarinettist was the most recent addition and had classical training, but he had known the drummer, Clive, since childhood.  “It stays in,” he said.  After all this was a democracy.

The remainder of the rehearsal centred on what the piece should be called and it turned out to be Raspberry Jam.