She had never known cold like it. It penetrated her skin and struck her bones. She felt it deep down, as if it were infiltrating her very soul.
Escape was not an option; there was no turning back until she’d achieved her goal. There was no way she could face the humiliation of returning empty handed.
Slowly, so slowly, she continued her search in vain. She groped around in the dark, not sure of herself.
Suddenly, a realisation came to her like a thunderbolt. It was so obvious.
She picked up a box of fish fingers and closed the freezer.
Peter has had enough of modern life, so he’s given it up.
He’s sold his house, his car, quit his job and moved to the wilderness. The pursuit of the almighty dollar bores him; he wants only the pursuit of food and shelter to fill his mind.
Peter looks around his little valley with satisfaction.
“Home, sweet home” He chuckles at the cliché and sits down to continue whittling a new spoon.
His phone buzzed, “Twitter: New mentions”
This new life was perfect. Plentiful game and foraging, beautiful rolling countryside and really good 3G. What more could a man need?
“I’m sorry. There’s no cure.”
Caitlin was shell-shocked. Not unlike other kids, she’d often wished for superpowers. This, though? This was less superpower, more catastrophe waiting to happen.
The government scientist in the secret lab beneath the Science Museum said she was “apocaleptic”. Her seizures could trigger anything from small tremors in the earth to huge earthquakes. Somehow her brainwaves caused tectonic shifts, meaning she could cause a mass-casualty event just by fitting.
Having power meant being in control; she was far from in control.
“Why couldn’t I just have x-ray vision?” she wondered as the sedation pulled her under.
A very short story for Chuck Wendig’s Flash Fiction Challenge over at terribleminds.com. This week’s challenge was to come up with a story in three sentences. Given it was so short, I decided to turn it into an image instead of just putting the words on the page.
“One million dollars!”
The man had burst into the auction room and cried his bid out before anyone could stop him. This was just the effect he was looking for.
Everyone looked around and gasped as the bid was given. He had caused quite a commotion, the whole flow of the auction had been disrupted.
He stood proudly between the flung open double doors still with his hand raised in the air.
“Sir,” the auctioneer sneered “The bid stands at four point seven million dollars”
There was a pause.
“Oh” He replied at last.
He sheepishly backed through the doors.
This idea’s been kicking around in my head for several years and this is the first time I’ve ever given it space outside my mind. I sometimes worry about the dastardly way my own mind works.
Warnings for sinister content, trickery and violence against women.
She was the only one who noticed him. His pale, moon-like face seemed to deflect the gaze of others but his large, dark eyes saw everything.
She was the only one who showed him kindness. He knew he had to make it up to her somehow. When he overheard her talking to that girl from Accounts over lunch, his purpose was fixed.
“If I could just be young forever, all my problems would be solved!”
It wasn’t hard to get her to agree to a lift home that Friday night in the pouring rain. When she’d said yes, he’d known he was doing the right thing.
There was only one way to guarantee her perpetual youth. He’d known that from the minute he heard those words.
She’d looked a little confused when he pulled up outside his house but quickly acquiesced. Politely, she accepted the orange-juice-and-phenobarbital cocktail and drank it quickly.
In minutes, her legs went from under her; seconds later he was standing over her with a feather cushion in his hands as her eyelids fluttered.
“Why..?” was her last word, more breath than speech.
“Because it’s what you wanted,” he answered, and pressed the cushion over her face.
Inspired by @TerryTyler4 and an offhand comment: https://twitter.com/TerryTyler4/status/210463019149443072
“I said, what did you think?” Her lips were close to his ear.
“It was fine” he said hastily, his wrists chafing against the harsh rope tying them together.
“Just… Fine?” She entered his field of vision, walking slowly and purposefully. He saw her fingers clutching the short whip and his forehead started to sweat.
“Good, great, the best!”
This isn’t what he expected. How on earth did she find him? He was starting to panic.
Her eyes burned into his, her rage barely contained.
This was the last time he’d give a self published author a three star review.