The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

The Invisible
by Melissa R. Mendelson

“Doctor, she is drawing skulls on the wall in her room again.”

He sighed as the nurse stood halfway in his office.  His patient never recovered from the virus, but there was no virus.  It was all in her head.  “Get the syringe,” and he moved away from his desk.

“I don’t get it.  She was doing okay a week ago.  We were going to release her.”

He pulled out a set of keys from his pocket and unlocked the door.  Her room was dark, but he could hear her scratching at the wall in the corner near the window.  She was drawing again, and the nurse stood behind him with the syringe in her hand.  He reached for the light switch nearby, and a gasp caught in his throat.

“Oh my God,” the nurse exclaimed.  “She covered an entire wall with skulls, and they all have initials.”  She watched him grab the young girl, pinning her against his chest, and she hurried over with the syringe.  But then she stopped.  “What if she’s right about the virus?”

“There is no virus.  Now, give her the damn shot,” he commanded as the girl screamed and wrestled in his grasp.  “I can’t hold her for long.  Do your job.”  He watched the nurse bury the syringe into the girl’s arm, and the girl went limp in his grasp.  “We can’t release her, and I don’t think she’ll ever get better.”  He laid her down in the bed nearby, and black chalk rolled out of her hand.  “And I am going to fire whoever gave her that damn chalk.”  He knelt down to pick it up.

“Doctor.”  He looked over his shoulder at the nurse.  “Aren’t those your initials?”

He stood up from the floor and walked over to one of the skulls on the wall.  Suddenly, he felt faint.  His body locked into place.  His skin twitched as if something were pulling itself away from him like if you had glue stuck to your fingertips.  He tried to turn his head when a large, dark creature snapped his neck.

The nurse screamed, running for the door, but the door slammed shut in front of her.  She turned around but did not see the creature or the virus as the girl called it.  She moved over to the doctor’s body and fumbled for his keys and hurried back over to the door while trying to find the right key.  Her fingers curled around it when something peeled away from her back, and her body locked into place.  But the creature, the virus did not snap her neck like it did with the doctor.  Instead, it leaned down toward the base of her neck, hot breath flooding over her skin, and large, white fangs ripped into flesh.

Fiction © Copyright Melissa R. Mendelson

Image courtesy of Pixabay.com

About Author Melissa R. Mendelson:

Melissa R. Mendelson is a Horror, Science-Fiction, and Dystopian Author. Her short stories have been published by Sirens Call Publications, Dark Helix Press, and Transmundane Press. She also has a variety of short stories and poetry available on Medium.

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

Blue Lights Over Broken Bones
by Melissa R. Mendelson

His large shoes stuck outward, nearly tripping the bicyclist that sped down the rocky street.  A pebble chased after him.  A soft thunk in the small, tin can.  His face was always smiling, but he could feel the white drain away.  He tipped his hat, refusing to say a word as those that walked past him avoided his feet.  He reached into his ragged coat for a tissue, but his fingers came out the other side.

Music flowed through an open window across the street.  She came into view, always wearing a pink dress, showing off her legs.  Whether she knew that he sat there didn’t seem to bother her as she danced.  Arms stretched over her head.  Back straight.  The music had her now, and she spun, almost toppling out the door.  But she caught herself, and for a moment, their eyes met.

He hoped the smile on his face was enough for her, but she was spinning again.  He looked up at the blue lights overhead.  The sky was almost beautiful, but it was never warm.  A dog’s bark made its way down the street to his corner.  Another bicyclist flashed past, nearly missing his shoes.  Another soft thunk in the small, tin can, and she danced.  It was always to the same song.

He promised himself that he would never look.  He glanced at the small, tin can in his gloved hand.  His eyes chased after the pebbles that rolled by.  His back pressed into the brick wall behind him.  He was looking, staring at the knobs on the bottom of her legs, where her feet should’ve been, and the knobs were black, hardened with blood.

She stopped dancing, wobbling, trying to spin her away over to the door.  Her hand reached for the handle.  She fell, landing face first on the floor, and he moved to help her.  But he tripped over his own feet.  She giggled in response.  That made him laugh, but her face morphed into tears.  It was this damn place.  You could never laugh for too long, but he got her back up.  And she started to dance again.

“Please, go,” were the words she left in his ear.  He glanced at the small, tin can in his gloved hand.  He placed it by the door, avoiding her stare.  Another bicyclist whizzed by, nearly knocking him over, and the pebbles laughed, sliding under his feet.  He refused to fall, and the blue lights overhead grew more vivid, chasing after him.  His back the shape of the brick wall that he always sat against.  He paused to catch the music flowing through her window, but as he moved forward, pieces of himself shaped like bricks fell to the ground.

Fiction © Copyright Melissa R. Mendelson

Image courtesy of Pixabay.com

About Author Melissa R. Mendelson:

Melissa R. Mendelson is a Horror, Science-Fiction, and Dystopian Author. Her short stories have been published by Sirens Call Publications, Dark Helix Press, and Transmundane Press. She also has a variety of short stories and poetry available on Medium.