Ladies of Horror Flash Project – #Horror #author Ela Lourenco @ElaLourenco @darc_nina #LoH #fiction

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

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Inevitable 
by Ela Lourenco 

Wisps of acrid pale grey smoke

Undulated out of the chimney

Cutting through the crisp clean air

Disturbing the pine scent of the forest.

Not a bird flew, not a sound in the dawn sky

Fear blanketed the earth.

I was frozen in my hiding place

As tendrils of smoke danced towards me

Almost choking me.

As it reached me

I wondered if I was to be next….

.

Fiction © Copyright Ela Lourenco
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com.
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More from Ela Lourenco:

awakeningDragon Born: Book Three
Awakening

The Royal tournament, the Karnac, is fully underway. But there is deception and betrayal at every turn. Unseen dark forces are at play, both within the school grounds and out with. Even the Gods are unable to help when a new threat looms over them all.The very existence of Azmantium depends on Lara fully becoming the Child of Fire and casting aside the Shadows lurking in every corner of her beloved planet.Can she overcome the challenges that await? Will the Shadows cover the world in darkness? Only Lara and her friends can change the fate of Azmantium.

Available on Amazon!

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Ladies of Horror Flash Project – #Horror #author Kathryn Ptacek @darc_nina #LoH #fiction

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

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One Night 
by Kathryn Ptacek 

The moonlight swept across the statue, glinting on the mica embedded in the stone, and slowly the grey softened, and he raised his head as his wings shook, once again free. With great care, he stretched and gazed around at the plaza whitewashed with the night glow.

He inhaled deeply of the sweet scent of flowers that bloomed only at night. He remembered that his mother had planted those long ago for him. Long long ago.

His mother and sisters had visited him faithfully each year until one by one they stopped. His mother was first, and his older sister told him with sorrow that their mother was sick and dying. She would be dead long before the next Night, and he had felt the tears well up inside. It was not the Night, so the tears had not fallen, but he knew his sister had known his grief.

The sisters continued to visit, even on the nights that were not special, and they brought their husbands and children and their children’s children, but he knew the younger ones didn’t understand, didn’t care.

He had just one visitor now, after all these years. She and he had played together as children, and there had always been that silent understanding between them that when they reached a certain age, they would marry. But before that happened, even though he was barely out of his teens, he had had words with a powerful mage, and all too soon he had come to rue his unwise action. When he awoke the next day, he was in the plaza, for all of eternity except for a single night in the year when the moonlight washed against his stone limbs.

She visited each year and brought more flowers and little things that she had made him, and they talked long into the night, he on the pedestal, she below, her face upturned to his, the love still evident in her eyes.

But tonight … tonight he did not see her, and he waited for hours. He watched as the sky lightened little by little, and still he waited. Looking across the great plaza, he thought he saw someone running down the ruins of the steps. And he felt a stirring in his heart.

But then the first ray of sunlight touched him, and he moaned aloud as his body began to stiffen, the stone creeping back into his limbs. As his wings arched outward, he looked straight ahead and saw her race toward the base of the pedestal. She was crying, and she dropped her armful of marigolds that she had brought, and she rested her head against the stone, but it was too late.

And, as he gazed down at her, the grey hair pulled back, the lines on her face, he knew this might be the last time he saw her, and he wept silently.

.

Fiction © Copyright Kathryn Ptacek
Image courtesy of
Pixabay.com

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The Ladies of Horror Flash Project – #Horror #author Naching T. Kassa @NachingKassa @darc_nina #LoH #fiction

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

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Sentient
by Naching T. Kassa 

“Jack, come here!”

I looked up from the petri dish and hurried over to my colleague’s workstation. Harris glanced up at me, his eyes wide beneath his shaggy, brown hair, a smile on his face.

“Look at this!”

I glanced down at the mold sample he had been studying and shook my head. “Very funny, Harris.”

“What?”

“What did you use? A sugar solution?”

“I didn’t do this.”

I grinned. “Oh really? You didn’t write my name with sugar and grow the mold…what the…”

Before my eyes, the mold within the dish shifted. What had been my name but a second ago, became another. The name “Cindy.”

“It’s been doing this for the last five minutes,” Harris said in a hushed voice.

I stared at the mold as it once again changed to my name. My heart thudded in my chest.

“That is really odd.”

“Odd? It’s downright weird,” Harris said. “Look at this.”

Using a swab, he picked up a small section of mold and smeared it into a clean dish. A few seconds later, the mold grew thick and green. It formed the letter “J”.

I took a step back and shook my head. “It’s sentient.”

“Yes,” Harris cried. “Jack, do you know what this means?”

“We were right,” I said.

Harris nodded. “We were right. And we’ve beaten the machines! We’ve created honest-to-God organic intelligence!” He pointed a finger at me. “You know what I’m going to call it? I’m going to call it Charlotte.”

“Charlotte?”

“After the book by E.B. White. Charlotte’s Web. It fits, doesn’t it?”

I didn’t answer. My stomach churned as the green horror continued to spell my name.

“This is a moment for celebration!” Harris continued.

“Champagne?” I suggested.

“Only the best.”

“They have some at Sung’s, around the corner.”

Harris grinned. “Be right back.”

He hurried from the room.

I stared down at the two petri dishes. The two had synchronized, and I watched as my name and that of “Cindy” vanished and reappeared over and over.

I glanced at the clock. If Harris had gone to the mom-and-pop around the corner, it would take him twenty minutes or more to get back.

I picked up both dishes and returned to my workstation where the Bunsen Burner waited. I held the first dish over the flame.

“Can you believe I forgot my wallet?” Harris said as he entered the room. When he saw me, he halted, his eyes wide. “What the hell are you doing?”

I turned the dish, hoping I could burn the mold up before he reached me, but he caught my wrist and wrested it from my hand before shoving me away.

“Why, Jack!” he cried. “Don’t you understand what we have here? It’s alive. Aware. Why would you want to destroy this?”

The message in the petri dish had changed. The mold spelled a new word.

Harris’ eyes widened.

I picked up the second petri dish and smashed him over the head.

When I pulled my hand away, I realized a shard of glass had lodged in his eye. He fell to the floor like a stone.

I took the first dish from Harris’ hand. The word “Murder” had taken the place of “Jack” and “Cindy”.

I glanced toward the corner of the room, the corner nearest the door. The corner I had scrubbed and bleached the night before. The corner where Cindy had died.

A green shadow covered the floor and the wall. It had taken the shape of a woman.

The petri dish fell from my hand and shattered on the floor. I snatched up the Bunsen Burner and hurled it across the room.

It did not burn with the flames.

But I did.

Fiction © Copyright Naching T. Kassa
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com
 

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More from Naching T. Kassa:

ab

Arterial Bloom

Lush. Brutal.

Beautiful. Visceral.

Crystal Lake Publishing proudly presents Arterial Bloom, an artful juxtaposition of the magnificence and macabre that exist within mankind. Each tale in this collection is resplendent with beauty, teeth, and heart.

Edited by the Bram Stoker Award-winning writer Mercedes M. Yardley, Arterial Bloom is a literary experience featuring sixteen stories from some of the most compelling dark authors writing today.

With a foreword by HWA Lifetime Achievement Award Recipient Linda D. Addison, you are invited to step inside and let the grim flowers wind themselves comfortably around your bones.

Available on Amazon!

 

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Ladies of Horror Flash Project – #Horror #author Melissa R. Mendelson @melissmendelson @Darc_Nina #LoH #fiction

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

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Death Is Not Trivial
by Melissa R. Mendelson 

I watched them crawl over her apartment like ants, scavenging what they could for clues.  Their feelers were out.  They found nothing.  No trace of foul play.  Only her body.  Only the look of terror frozen on her face.

They glanced at me as if you would a speck of dust.  One man scratched the back of his head.  His partner shrugged.  Something scared her, something that made her shriek in absolute terror, followed by silence.  I liked the silence.

They were taking her body outside now.  Vultures gathered around with flashing lights, all hungry for an Instagram or Twitter like.  No one asked what happened except for one idiot.  “Is she dead?”  Well, if she wasn’t dead, then why are the police here?

I spotted one woman standing outside close to the open door.  She wiped away a crocodile tear.  Did anyone catch that?  Would her picture go viral on the web as “a friend grieves for a sudden loss?”  I shook my head.

“What about the bird?”  One man said as he pulled his gun out from his holster.

“If he’s smart…”  His partner glanced at me and then gestured over to the open door.  “He’ll fly out.  If not.”  He pointed at the gun in the other man’s hand.

“Shoo.  Get out of here.  Shoo.  What’s he doing out of his cage anyway?”  The man clicked the safety off.  “Don’t make me shoot you.”  I blinked at him.  “I think the damn thing just smiled at me.”

“Maybe he likes you,” his partner said.

No, I don’t, I thought.  I looked at the gun waiting in his hand.  They were so quick now to death.  I’ve seen it out the window so many times these days.  The couple arguing next door.  Then, a week later, that husband made the news, showing up at his wife’s workplace and taking her and three other coworkers out.  Why?  Because he didn’t want a divorce.

How about the man that hit a small boy on his bike?  Why?  Because he didn’t want to stop for a Stop Sign.

And she was no saint.  She tried everything she could to make a coworker leave her workplace.  She just didn’t like them.  Then, she suddenly came up with an idea and poured rat poison into their coffee.  She didn’t even feel bad when they died.  Instead, she cleaned her apartment and sang on top of her lungs.  It was a miracle that they didn’t call the police then.

“You’re all doomed,” I whispered.

“Did you say something?”  The partner asked the other man.

“I think the bird chirped,” the man said.  “Can I shoot it now?”

His partner responded by picking up a small broom, the same broom that she had used to clean her apartment.  He swiped it at me, but he still couldn’t reach the top of the breakfront.  He threw the broom to the side and nodded at the other man.

Before the other man could pull the trigger, my wings expanded, and I flew toward him.  The action was so sudden that he fell back, and the broom was not lying flat down.  It was positioned like a spear pointing at his back.  The other man gasped as he looked down at his chest, at the handle of the broom now coated in his blood and guts.  The gun fell out of his hand.

“Fucking bird,” his partner said, but he didn’t pick up the gun to try and shoot me.  “I’m going to have to find a new partner now.”

Is this what people have become?  So careless with death, but death is not trivial. 

I flew out the door.

.

Fiction © Copyright Melissa R. Mendelson
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com.
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About Author Melissa R. Mendelson:

Melissa R. Mendelson is the author of the Sci-Fi Novella, Waken, and the poetry collection, This Will Remain With Us.  She also has two self-published short story collections, Better Off Here and Stories Written Along COVID Walls.  All the books can be found on Amazon/Amazon Kindle.

If you’d like to learn more about Melissa, you can visit her accounts here: https://linktr.ee/melissarmendelson

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Ladies of Horror Flash Project – #Horror #author Carietta Dorsch @Darc_Nina #LoH #fiction

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

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Where Love Grows
by Carietta Dorsch 

I’ve got used to the blinking light; I just shove a pillow over my face. And I’ve got used to the constant half-light she needs. I need to help her get through this as intact as possible. Nothing else is important to me now. I don’t even care anymore that she cheated on me.

Already the memory of the thump that woke me is dissipating. Something dropped perhaps. I lie back, wondering whether I should try to sleep some more, but perhaps I need to check on her.

We have had a rough patch in our relationship here recently.

But I forgave her.

Well, I forgave her after I made her forgivable that is.

You see, I’ve always wanted to be an arborist, but I never had the opportunity.

I will admit I’m still getting used to having a tree in our bedroom. It’s still early in its growth, but it surely shows potential.

Inside its cluster of leaves I can see what appears to be  round, yellow sugar gum seeds. One of these seeds has a human eye, one seed has a nose. There is one seed, the most recent one, it has split and has reveled an open mouth, from which it is repeating a sigh of mournful apologizes. Her apologizes fall on deaf ears, it is a little too late for all that now.

I take my trimmers and snip a seed from a branch.

A thick greenish-red goo oozes from the wound and a sigh escapes her freshly sprouted mouth.

“I’m sorry,” I hear her moan.

“I know you are, Harmony, but I like you more this way. You can’t go out and cheat on me any more. I’m your wife forever and ever. Right here, right now, in our bedroom, this is where love grows.”

I kiss the seed and crack it open.

I can hear her moans of pain as I eat this part of her, and as I shallow I can feel a part of her with me.

Soon I’ll have all of her inside me and she’ll never leave me again.

Fiction © Copyright Carietta Dorsch
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com.
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Ladies of Horror Flash Project – #Horror #author Kathryn Ptacek @darc_nina #LoH #fiction

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

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Phantoms 
by Kathryn Ptacek 

Footsteps, then a pause. Footsteps again, and then what seemed like a slithering noise along the rain-soaked pavement.

She quickened her pace and glanced back over her shoulder, but saw nothing in the gloom. She paused under a lamppost at a corner and waited a bit and listened … nothing now.

She looked back again and thought she saw movement a few stores back, and not for the first time she wondered why she had waited so long to go out. She was an idiot. Well, she knew that, she thought, almost smiling at the thought.

Head down, shoulders hunched, she rounded the corner just in time to catch something out of the corner of her eye. She whirled around but saw nothing … again. Losing her mind, she thought … she was losing brain cells left and right obviously, if she was seeing these phantoms.

She walked faster … She didn’t have far … just a few blocks to get home. Next time she would go out when the sun was out. Next time … if there was a next time.

And once more she heard the slithering, and she shuddered and broke into a run. The house was up ahead … set back from the road as she had always wanted, shrouded by tall shrubs in the front for privacy, and she started to cry as she opened and closed the gate, her hands shaking from effort, and she rushed up to the door, only to see the reptile’s face reflected in the glass

.

Fiction © Copyright Kathryn Ptacek
Image courtesy of
Pixabay.com

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Ladies of Horror Flash Project – #Horror #author Rie Sheridan Rose @RieSheridanRose @darc_nina #LoH #fiction

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

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I Got My Eye On You 
by Rie Sheridan Rose 

Daniella strolled through the outdoor market, taking in the sights and smells of the goods on display. She’d never even seen many of the fruits and vegetables laid out on the stall tables. The stall owners called to her in a musical language she didn’t understand. Smiling apology and shaking her head, she wove her way deeper into the market.

Her friend Tony had promised her an experience unlike any she’d ever come across. He insisted the environment was a must-see event. So far, she found it intriguing, but she wasn’t sure if it lived up to Tony’s hype.

“Psst. Hey! You there…”

Daniella stopped in her tracks, glancing around her to see if anyone else stood nearby. She pointed to herself. “Are you talking to me?” She craned her neck to find the speaker.

“Yeah. You in the polka-dot dress.”

She looked down at the green and white print of her dress. How interesting.

“Where are you? What do you want?”

“Over here. On the table right in front of you. What, you blind?”

Daniella peered at the stall in front of her. “What the—” she gasped, staring in disbelief.

Sitting on the rough board in front of her was a scattering of dragon fruit. In the center of the group rested one that…blinked at her.

“Yeah, lady—you. What, you’ve never seen an eye before?”

“Not in a fruit.”

“Well, now you have. Dragons gotta start somewhere, ya know.”

“I thought dragons hatched from eggs.”

The…creature snorted at her. “Shows what you know. Dragons grow from seeds. Of course, most of them get eaten before they can talk to people. It’s a travesty.”

Daniella scratched her head. “Why aren’t there more dragons, then? They don’t all get eaten, do they?”

“Not all, but most, like I said. The ones who aren’t eaten are fantastic at hiding.”

“Wow.”

“I’ve been watching you. I think you’ve got what it takes to be a dragon master.”

“Me? I don’t even believe in dragons.”

“You’re standing there talking to one, aren’t you?”

“Maybe I ate a bad mushroom at lunch.”

The eye rolled inside its spiky shell. “I thought you were smarter than that. Don’t you aspire to be special?”

“I’m special,” she protested.

The eye scowled. “You are turning down a chance to mother a dragon. That ain’t special.”

Daniella bit her lip. The creature offered her a unique chance…but how on earth could she hide a dragon?

The eye glanced over her shoulder. “Look. The stall owner is coming back. Last chance. I really need you to do this. Think of all the advantages having a dragon in your pocket can give you.”

Daniella looked behind her. A man was hurrying her way, pasting a smile on his face as he came. Must be the stall owner. He had an oily smarm to him.

“All right. I’ll do it,” she said. “But I’d better not regret it.”

The man hurried up to the stall. “Pretty lady,” he said in broken English, “what may I do for your excellent self?”

Daniella scooped up the eye and a half-dozen more of the dragon fruit. “I’d like to buy these.”

The man nodded. “Two pence.”

She handed over two coins, and he handed her a small bag. She spilled the fruit and the dragon into the bag. Wait until Tony got a load of her new pet.

.

Fiction © Copyright Rie Sheridan Rose
Image courtesy of
Pixabay.com

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519RiHK+1wL._SX331_BO1,204,203,200_

Overheard in Hell:
Dark Poetry

Poems exploring hell and damnation. Tales of sorrow, vengeance, betrayal, and redemption. Ghosts, ghouls, and demons stalk these pages. Don’t read in a lonely house…in a darkened room by a single candle…

…unless you like the touch of an icy finger up your spine.

Available on Amazon!

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Ladies of Horror Flash Project – #Horror #author Melissa R. Mendelson @melissmendelson @Darc_Nina #LoH #fiction

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

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The Only Utopia We Will Ever Know Is… Star Trek
by Melissa R. Mendelson 

I was surprised that the television set still played, picking up a random transmission, maybe from a satellite still in space.  The transmission was an old, old tv show.  I recognized his voice, but his face was static.  I hugged the television set as if somehow, I could warp myself back into the past before…. Before it all went wrong.

He was a leader, a man truthful and dedicated.  Those were the leaders that we needed then, but we never had them.  Instead, we had entertainers, corrupters and lunatics.  No wonder the world went to hell the way that it did, and we just marched to their tune.  Now, I don’t remember the sun as it once was.  The sky endlessly blanketed with thick, gray clouds, and it’s not the rain I fear.  It’s the ash, the debris, the dead.

If only I could live in their world.  Instead, this broken, wooden structure was my home with a makeshift door and the windows broken or blackened in.  Anything still living out there was hunting for their next meal, and I’m barely clinging to my skin, bones jutting outward, food pockets of water and grass.  No, not that kind of grass, but the pieces of green still trying to make the dirt their home.

I don’t want to look out at my world.  Right outside was the last grave that I would ever dig, the last loved one that I had, a stranger once, but that was a long time ago.  No one would come to bury me.  Only this structure would remain, and the elements will wash what it can away.  But it will never remove the stain.

We wanted a utopian world.  We wanted our freedom.  We needed to hear what we were told.  Empty words.  Broken promises.  Lies and Lies and more Lies.  Until it was too late.  It’s just too damn late, and the signal is fading.  Soon, I would be alone again, counting down the days to hopefully my last because I can’t take this anymore.

“Beam me up, Scotty.”

“Yes, Scotty,” I said.  “Beam me up, and take me far away to where you live in your utopian world.”

.

Fiction © Copyright Melissa R. Mendelson
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com.
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About Author Melissa R. Mendelson:

Melissa R. Mendelson is the author of the Sci-Fi Novella, Waken, and the poetry collection, This Will Remain With Us.  She also has two self-published short story collections, Better Off Here and Stories Written Along COVID Walls.  All the books can be found on Amazon/Amazon Kindle.

If you’d like to learn more about Melissa, you can visit her accounts here: https://linktr.ee/melissarmendelson

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Ladies of Horror Flash Project – #Horror #author Elaine Pascale @DocLaney @darc_nina #LoH #fiction

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

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Fae Trap 
by Elaine Pascale 

.On the morning following the full moon, “Jane” brought an offering to the Fae. She had assembled snapdragons, hydrangea, bluebells, and candytufts. This would be her last attempt. She wouldn’t have the strength to pedal her bicycle after this.

An earlier bicycle trip to the woods had been the catalyst for Jane’s terminal status. She had fallen prey to a Fae trap. They had appeared fragile and luminous and endearing. There was no warning in their incandescence. Enchanted, she had given them her real name in exchange for a floral cake with icing so sweet her heart fluttered. The flowers were made of colored chocolates that were transcendent. The succulent confectionery buds trickled with sticky caramel. Fresh berries nestled between the layers, and the baked batter was so fluffy that she feared it would float away before she could cram it into her mouth.

Both the cake and the name had been traps. The name transferred ownership, she no longer had autonomy, but the cake was worse.

Who knew that cake could cause such punishment?

She craved the otherworldly sweetness to the point that she could no longer eat human food.

At first, she had thought she was sick, like a flu. Then, as days passed and she was unable to keep even her favorite foods down, she knew it was more of a love sickness, of a deadly variety.

The sickness permeated her until her existence became one of constant nausea and pain.

If the flowers she brought were not received, and she was not permitted a taste of the mystical cake, she would burn their tree to the ground, hoping their revenge would be quicker than starving to death.

Fiction © Copyright Elaine Pascale
Image courtesy of Pixaby.com

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More from Elaine Pascale:

The Blood Lights

They victimize all…

Jezzie Mitchell is in anguish; with her brother’s murder still on her mind, she’s noticed strange behavior among the girls in the residential treatment center where she works. Is there a connection between the contagion on Cape Cod and the deadly Bahamas vacation that changed her life?

Jezzie reaches out to former lover Lou Collins, a scholar who has chased proof of the lights for decades. Will he be able to solve the mystery of the lights in time?

Intensely competitive, reporter Bridgette Collins knows the lights are a way to secure fame in her career. And while it’ll put the final nail into the coffin of her ex-husband’s career, she vows to know the secrets of the lights. Even if it means unleashing a world-wide epidemic…

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Ladies of Horror Flash Project – #Horror #author Kim Richards @Kim_Richards @Darc_Nina #LoH #fiction

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

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Weeping Streets
by Kim Richards 

Overwhelming, hot pain made it difficult for Nell to open her eyes. Overhead the grey sky wept while the wind waved tree branches like frantic arms. The air smelled of old, wet tar and mud.

Lying on her stomach, her head rested on a wet pavement near a double yellow line running the length of it and off beyond her line of sight. For a moment she thought it originated from beneath her body. Heavy raindrops splattered in the red puddle of her blood all around her, splashing its lukewarm touch on her face. She shivered and tried to move her arms.

She cried out as more pain, intense and overwhelming swept over her limbs. The rain patter drowned out her weak voice. Her head pounded so she dared not lift it to see around herself. However, she could move her eyes so scanned the road ahead and to her left side. There were bits of glass littered among the raindrops.

Where’s my car? she wondered. She couldn’t see it but heard a sick grinding roar (better word) off to her far right. Could be an engine? She wasn’t sure.

Through her fuzzy thoughts, she recalled the sound of squealing tires and the screech of metal twisting. Oh, shit, she thought as she remembered saying those very words aloud when she realized the crash was unavoidable. The semi carrying a bed piled with enormous pine tree trunks barreled down upon her. It was no match for her little yellow Accord and its wet brakes.

Metal screeched against metal; tires squealed; glass shattered and rained down on Nell. The hard, swift jolt slammed her forehead on her right window frame before her air bag deployed with a horrid breathing sound. The force of it banged her head a second time on the window frame. Her brain registered white both searing pain and the plastic surface of the air bag.

With a soft “Oh” passing her lips, her vision went dark.

How did I get from the car and onto the street? she wondered now she was awake.

With extraordinary care, she slowly rolled her head to see to her right side. Twisted yellow painted metal stuck out from beneath the huge logs, now scattered on the road.

The rain and blood running into her eyes mixed with her tears. Her vision blurred. Still, she recognized a pair of hiking boots and Levi covered legs standing near her. She opened her mouth but the mewling sound she made was drowned out by the pounding rain and a man’s voice shouting curses.

“Dammit! Come on. Connect you bastard,” he screamed at his phone.

His pale face came into Nells view as he knelt beside her.

“Lady. Lady. I got no cell service. I have to drive back but the nearest town is an hour and a half away. You’re pinned beneath a log and I can’t lift them without help. I’ll drive like a demon and get someone. I’ll keep trying the phone too.”

He reached out and gingerly touched her arm. “I’m sorry.”

Nell heard the sound of his truck door slam shut and its engine roar over the rain. Suddenly the man appeared next to her again. He opened an umbrella and situated it where it at least kept the rain off her head. She blinked and tried to give him a grimaced smile.

After he drove off, she closed her eyes and never saw him return.

Fiction © Copyright Kim Richards
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com

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