As it it both October, and the thirteenth, I’m honoring two of my favorite things with another installment of the Halloween Horror Flash event, sponsored by the one and only Charles Gramlich. Our charming host has two stories up with more promised soon. Head over to Charles’ site and check out Goodnight and Spot. The ever-twisted (and your future president) Stewart Sternberg, has offered up Fat Man. Read it and see if you think our protagonist is evil, or if you’re like me and think he just might not be all bad. Sidney has channeled his inner angst and presents us with, Having His Say, a good read for all you resentful youngsters out there. Laughingwolf gives us, Flight–don’t let the lightheartedness fool you; darkness lurks in this wolf’s soul. Miladysa gives us, Twisted, a dire warning to those of you inclined to take shortcuts. If I’ve missed anyone on the rounds, drop me a line and I’ll be sure to scurry over and read your flash, and add your link here.
As for me, I had a traumatic incident this past week. Well, three, exactly. And they all boil down to the same horrible conclusion; I’ve become Damian. I didn’t really want to be, what with the responsibility involved and all, but it has happened all the same. The first incident was last Friday. I was raking the yard and came upon a young mauled dove sprawled on my back patio. Then, on Saturday I went to a friend’s house on the river. We kayaked in the sun, and then headed back to the house to get some wine. On the walkway, right at my feet, was an injured bluebird. Then, yesterday, as I watered my garden, I noticed a large group of flies around my pot of mint. I peeked in, and, sure enough, another dead dove. It seems my former avian friends are dropping from the skies wherever my feet touch the earth. So, if you’re trying to avoid me and my new sinister career path, just go out and buy yourself a yellow canary like the miners of old. If it drops dead, beat it out of there, because I’m sure to be on the way over.
So, with no further jibberjabber, here’s the next flash:
The creature stopped twitching, and immediately she wished she could take it back. She held her daddy’s hammer tightly in the palm of her shaking hand and stared at the mess that had not too long before been a head. The insides of her stomach twisted into a dozen tight balls of string. There was no taking this back. No putting life back into the small form.
She gazed at the ruined body in contemplation. It had been so small, so weak. When she had picked it up, the thing squawked and squealed in panic, but had been helpless to do anything more. Surely that meant something? Her young mind gnawed the problem, chewing it like tough meat. She gazed at the lifeless shell, and the bits of swirling emotions settled, locking in her mind as a much more logical, concrete outlook.
Because it had no chance against her, the creature deserved to fall under her control. With no means to defend its life, its death became hers to decide. She hefted her daddy’s hammer in her hand and felt a surging swell of dominance. The young monster gazed down at the rest of the tiny, scurrying humans, and smiled.