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Triple Flash Special

May 6, 2018

 

Welcome monsters, this week we bring you three humorous flash fiction tales from our creator, Rinoa Cameron. 

 

Rinoa is a British Writer, who lives in a nest of spiders, dragons, and sharks. Fantastic stories jam-packed with monsters and goo are close to her heart. She specialises in weird, creepy, disturbing and insane fiction, ranging from extremely dark and graphic creations to lighthearted horror, and has been sharpening her pen for many years. You can find her Facebook page Rinoa Cameron Fiction at www.facebook.com/rinoacameron/

 

Andy and the Corpse of Rufus 

By Rinoa Cameron

 

Andy realised flowers couldn’t talk, but since the dead geranium remained his only company, he attempted talking to it anyway.

 

“Dark, isn’t it?” he asked it.

 

The plant didn’t reply.

 

Andy sighed and supposed its demise might have been his fault. He’d only peed on it to try to provide it with some needed water, but then the geranium he’d named Rufus had already been sort of droopy to begin with.  

 

Now, finally certain Rufus was in fact beyond all help, Andy considered eating him. Perhaps the sprig had more nutrition than his socks, however chewing up the limp plant corpse seemed disrespectful, so Andy chewed on his pyjama sleeve instead.

 

He offered Ruffus a nibble, but the dead plant didn’t seem interested. Just in case it changed its mind, Andy tore off a few threads and planted them in the pee-soaked dirt. “Eat up,” he encouraged.

 

The plant didn’t.

 

Andy leaned back against the cold wall and regretted his actions. Opening that weird door in his bedroom was a mistake. When it revealed a dark corridor he’d never seen before he’d imagined adventures like The Lion The Witch and the Wardrobe.

 

As it turned out the corridor led nowhere and the door snapped shut the moment he passed through it. Now he and Rufus were firmly trapped inside the narrow, dead-end darkness.

 

“This is all your fault,” Andy told Rufus.

 

The dead plant did nothing. Andy poked it. Still nothing.

 

He tried to remember quite why he’d plucked Rufus from the windowsill and brought him along. He had to admit he didn’t know, and supposed it was one of those, it seemed like a good idea at the time things.

 

But why have a secret passage to nowhere? he mused. It didn’t make sense.

 

He glanced at the closed doorway and squinted at the frame of light that defined it. It must be daytime.

 

He’d screamed for help for a while, but could have sworn Rufus laughed at him so gave that up. The last thing he wanted to do was look stupid in front of a judgemental shrub. Still Rufus was dead now … surely he could risk calling out without a plant raising a critical, non-existent eyebrow?

 

But then what if Rufus’ ghost was watching?

 

Andy folded his arms. He’d just have to wait it out …

 

Someone would find him, eventually.

 

*

 

Jenny stared at the door. It lured her, seeming to pulse and call, drawing her in. She pulled at the handle, but it wouldn’t budge. She rattled it, nothing.

 

Well, no dumb door would get the better of her. She grabbed a wire coat hanger jammed it in and shoved until the previously unnoticed door creaked open.

 

A musty smell wafted out and she waved a hand before her face.

 

The shadow in the darkness instantly came at her. It grunted, moaned, groaned, and lumbered. She screamed as it ploughed into her and they both toppled backwards onto the bedroom carpet.

 

“Andy,” she gasped.

 

“Thank God,” he cried and wrapped his arms around her. “I thought I was gonna be locked in there forever!”

 

She stared at him. He was covered in dust with his socks gone, the arm from his pyjamas missing, and a few strands of matching fabric hanging from his mouth.

 

“How long has it been?” Andy rasped, his eyes squinting as he shielded them from the light. “Days? Weeks? Months?”

 

“Two minutes,” she said, peering around him into the gloom of the store cupboard. It smelled of urine and in the middle sat a dripping geranium.

 

She screwed up her nose and asked, “Andy, did you pee on that plant?”

 

END

***

 

Kinda By Accident

By Rinoa Cameron

 

“Be quiet!” I hissed at him. “You’ll wake someone up.”

 

He inconsiderately bellowed at the ceiling. I pressed a hand over his mouth, but he wriggled away.

 

I slapped his face.

 

He spat blood. “Get away from me, you psycho!”

 

“I’m not a psycho. You shouldn’t sneak up on people when they’re holding a knife.”

 

He started blubbering and scooted along the kitchen floor, painting a river of blood. “Call an ambulance!”

 

“Okay, okay.” I grabbed my phone, then threw it at the wall. “The battery’s dead!”

 

“Use mine!”

 

“I don’t know where that is.”

 

“I’m bleeding to death!” He pressed bloody fingers to the wound. “Do something.”

 

I spotted a first aid box and threw it open. “Don’t worry, I’ve found a bandaid.” I presented the sticky plaster with a grin. It was kind of small, but it had to be good for something, right?

 

“You’re insane! Help, someone help me!”

 

“Is that any way to talk to your wife?”

 

He slumped in a pool of blood. “You’re not my wife, you’re an insane nutcase.”

 

Okay, the wife thing was a long shot. I was hoping he wouldn’t notice I was a dude, who’d broken into his house. The hole in his chest, I could understand may perturb him, but calling me a nutcase was completely uncalled for! I stepped forwards to explain my situation, slipped in the blood, and accidentally sank the knife into his face. His eye popped and I vomited over his head.

 

“Andrew!”

 

The voice made me jump. I spun around, screaming, “He made me do it!”

 

She staggered away, grabbing her throat. Blood spurted through her fingers. She rasped and gagged and fell backwards.

 

I guessed I really should put the knife down.

 

“Mum? Dad?” A teenaged boy appeared in the doorway.

 

Our eyes met, and right then and there, I knew I had to finish it.

 

END

***

 

Look But Don't Touch

By Rinoa Cameron

 

The glowing triangle caught Jane’s eye. She stopped mid-step, wheeled around and tilted her head. “What is that?”

 

The wrinkled old man sitting between the table and vehicle at the car-boot sale gave a twisted, knowing smile. “Like it, don’t you?”

 

Nodding, Jane edged towards it. “What is it?” She stretched out her hand.

 

The old man moved like lightning. His cane shot up, smacking her fingers away.

 

“Hey ow!”

 

“Don’t touch.”

 

Jane sucked her smarting fingers. She wanted to storm away, but the triangle increased its glow. She couldn’t take her eyes off it.

 

The thing seemed to be made of glass, except it pulsed as though breathing. The glow shimmered between pink, purple, and blue. She peered closer at it, expecting it to be a solid  3D structure, like a pyramid, except it was flat, somehow standing upright without support.

 

“You really like it, don’t you?” The old man’s eyes twinkled.

 

“What is it?” Jane said, keeping her distance incase he whacked her again.

 

“The desired,” the man said. “And you want it, don’t you?”

 

“No,” Jane said. She tried to turn away, but her feet stayed rooted to the spot.

 

The old man raised his chin, those twinkling eyes darkening. “Are you sure.”

 

Jane just stood there, twisting her hands together.

 

“It’s yours if you want it,” the old man teased.

 

Jane pressed her lips together. Her mind cried, walk away, but her lips said, “How much?”

 

“Nothing.”

 

“Nothing?”

 

“Just your soul.” The wrinkled man’s smile cracked open revealing rows of yellow teeth.

 

“What?”

 

“Relax. I’m joking.” He smiled wider. “It’s a gift.”

 

“Oh, okay … if you’re sure.”

 

The man stood up, back arched. He picked up a pair of tongs, plucked up the triangle, which made a strange humming sound as he did. “You must never touch it,” he said, wagging a finger. “Don’t let anyone else touch it, either.”

 

“Um, okay.”

 

He dropped the triangle into a black box and pushed a lid into place. “There you go, miss. All yours.”

 

“Thank you,” Jane said, feeling the box tingle in her hands. She stared at it, then looked up to thank him again.

 

The man, his little wooden table shabby car vanished. Jane’s jaw dropped. She stared around, but the crowds of people milled about bargain hunting without even raising their heads.

 

Jane staggered backwards. She glanced at her hand, expecting the box with the triangle to be gone, except there it was, snugly nestled in her fingers. She raised it towards her face and it started to hum. The sound enticed her. She pulled the lid away and peered inside. The triangle lay flat in the box, it pulsed and shimmered and hummed.

 

Her free hand started to edge towards it.

 

“You must never touch it,” the old man’s voice echoed through her mind.

 

It was far too late, her fingers had already made contact.

 

She whipped them away the second they did, cold, so cold, burning cold!

 

The box fell from her grip and the triangle tumbled onto the grass. Jane made to rescue it, but jumped away as it shot a beam of light into the sky.

 

The humming started to wail, sounding like foghorns and gunshots that became deafening. Everyone around clapped their hands over their ears and screaming they hit the ground. Jane joined them. Her skull crackled and begged to implode.

 

Writhing with her insides trying to escape her body, she stared through watery eyes at the triangle.

 

It grew, expanding in every direction. A deep rumbling, even louder than the din it already made, emanated from within. The light it emitted hurt Jane’s eyes. Yelling and crying, she rolled onto her back. The clouds above split apart, vapourising as the light struck them.

 

The sky above turned red—blood red—and Jane shrieked louder and louder as hundreds of shining silver spaceships zoomed into view.


END

***

 

And so concludes our Triple Flash Special, we hope you've enjoyed this tasty treat. For more, why not browse our ezine for many other ghoulish tales. 

 

Also please take a look at our latest anthology Fangs and Broken Bones

 

Until next week, may your monster never go hungry.

 

*Andy and the Corpse of Rufus © Rinoa Cameron

*Kinda By Accident © Rinoa Cameron

*Look But Don't Touch © Rinoa Cameron

 

 

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