Here is another stab at the flash fiction corpse; this time involving a scary three-act story where I start my spooky tale and end the first third within 1000 words (hoping that we will end with a story born from a threesome… or something along those lines).
Inspired by a challenge set by Chuck Wendig, I hope to continue next week and add 1000 words onto someone else’s first act. Who knows! Maybe someone will pick up and continue my attempt at a scary first act
You can read up all the other scary flashes of 1000 first words here (http://terribleminds.com/ramble/2016/10/07/flash-fiction-challenge-a-scary-story-part-one/) but here be mine. Enjoy.
The screams had since subsided a good hour ago, but the padding of feet on damp carpets outside were just faint enough to catch.
I checked my watch.
Yes, it had been an hour, trapped in the dimly lit executive bathroom, on the 38th floor, just off the vice-president’s office, some 30-odd miles from my home and family.
I choked, grasping my mouth and trying not to sob as I dubbed myself a coward; the coward that hid in the bathroom when shit hit the fan. The coward that took an hour to think of his family. I hadn’t cried in years, not since the markets crashed…
…what about your family!
They say you really begin to appreciate the things you have once they are taken away; what I would give to see my wife… My daughters… This must be the first time I have ever shed tears for them…
… and they could be dead…!
You fucking coward! You fat piece of sh-
The door shook. My back had been resting against it all this time, but I hadn’t thought about locking it . It shook again, and I leant harder, digging my heels into the carpet. My left arm slowly rose towards the handle, clawing for a latch or lock, all whist my eyes were fixed on the porcelain toilet before me. My fingers scratched…
I froze. It was a sound unlike anything in this world. It was a deep hiss that gargled and churned, and for the strength my frozen body had, it was not to enter. It churned deeper as it heaved against the door again, determined to enter. I couldn’t breathe, not if it was to hear me. I will not die in a bathroom!
I shivered, but as my back twitched to the drowning sound of the hissing, I sensed that whatever was behind the door was no longer there. The sound of sticky heavy feet on the floor outside was no longer there, leaving only a grim silence and only the sound of blood pulsing in my head. I could feel the veins in my eyes. My throat felt swollen. I relaxed my feet from the trench I had dug in the carpet with my heels. My left hand, still hanging in the air, finally found the lock. I exhaled ever so carefully.
Time passed, my left arm still hanging above my head for no discernible reason, other than double checking the door was still locked. I was poised, but at the same time I felt paralysed as I sat staring at the toilet. My mind was clouded with dim thoughts: My family, my own life, that thing outside, and everything else outside this bathroom. Dark thoughts lingered on my heavy, pulsing mind. I daren’t look at my watch now, as every minute in here is a minute my family are spending without me.
I tried to stand, but my legs were numb. For the first time I started to weigh my surroundings as I found myself alone in a room no bigger than a closet, where the boss would shit and piss. A very simple affair. No windows, a dim light hanging above, no ventilation, no phones or sockets, and only the stub of a cigarette under the sink; these were all I could note.
I finally relaxed my arms, slowly letting them float to the ground. I must stand; I must leave this room, and I must find my family. My palms pushed on the floor as I heaved myself up. A rush of warm blood hit my brain as I jolted up, catching myself on the sink. I looked up to see a mirror, and a pale old man looking back at me. You fat fuck! You can’t be tired! You’ve been sat on the floor for over an hour, sobbing like a fat baby! Time to find courage, man!
I untied my belt and held it firm. Whatever was out there would get a swift couple of hits with this before they could get to me. I tried the taps in the sink. No water. The toilet also had no water, even in the cistern. There’s no way I can stay here.
I breathed deep, but quietly. The escape stairs were around from the vice president office, passing a couple of vending machine that may have been partially looted during the madness. If not, the cistern lid would help shatter the glass, so I lifted it from the toilet and held it firmly.
I looked back at myself in the mirror, with a belt in one hand and the cistern lid in the other. What a fool I looked! Lets hope I don’t die one! Yellow sweat stains were streaked across my white shirt, and I noticed a few dots of blood too. Not mine. From the others? I didn’t really think when the screaming started; only to run and hide.
Time to prove myself that I am not a coward. This shirt might get a little dirtier, but at least I won’t die in a toilet!
I breathed again. I looked to the door. It was still a grim silence behind there, and I hoped and prayed it would stay silent. My hand stretched to the lock and opened the door to the office outside.