Halloween Flash Fiction: Week 4

#flashfiction #GhoulsGalore

Grave Error

The ground bubbled and shook where the soil had been freshly laid. Borborygmic ripples tugged at the earth, boiling below her feet and knocking her to the floor.

She scrambled towards the gate, but the ripples had spread out from one grave and through the whole cemetery.

Skeletal limbs and half-rotted flesh broke the soil and turf. She wished she’d never started. It had been a stupid idea to go out there all alone to test her powers.

Continue reading “Halloween Flash Fiction: Week 4”

Flash Fiction No. 53


Screaming Whispers

The slick splash tickled dazed ears, the scent of stale urine and sweat stinging his nostrils. Dull pain vibrated through his skull, pulsing as a vehement sound wave that jangled his insides. The darkness of the dank room was too bright for his eyes.

Scratching tore at the outer walls.

He put his hand to his forehead, eyes still tightly closed, and felt the sticky smear of blood that laced his temple. Beneath him, his broken ankle throbbed. He’d fallen on it when the unexpected drop had cut across his path. Travelling too fast to stop, his feet had sent him plummeting, the sound of them tearing his ears.

Continue reading “Flash Fiction No. 53”

Flash Fiction No. 46


Digging Up The Past

It didn’t matter to me. They all looked the same, anyhow. I guess it must matter to the families, but I don’t concern myself with that. It’s not in my remit.

But I couldn’t keep my eyes off the girl.

I leaned on my spade, feeling the head slide into the turf. She looked different to the rest of the congregation and at first I couldn’t place why. She was dressed in black with a small veil over her face.

Continue reading “Flash Fiction No. 46”

Flash Fiction No. 45


A Grave Gift

I stood by the sucking pit that gaped through the grass and wondered how it was that they didn’t see it. My heart hammered in my throat, but leaning back only made the pressure of my mother’s hand dig in against my shoulder.

She said the monsters were only in my imagination.

The stink of death and damp peat reached my nostrils. I would have closed my eyes, but if you do, when you open them again, those things creep closer to grab you. If you jump or scream everybody thinks you’re some kind of freak. And I didn’t need any help in that department.

Continue reading “Flash Fiction No. 45”