Collections

Your hand falls on my pale flesh with a force so great. A yelp escapes me and you snarl, as a wolf would at a hunter. The glint in your eyes screams evil and the look on your twisted face; murderous. You draw the knife high over your balding head and thrust the stainless steel point into my flesh, I scream and you smile a wicked smile, the knife you possess in your hand is driven into me once more and then dragged down into my insides; gutting me. My tears and blood coat my face and the basement is now a room of screams. I’m dying, you’re killing me. Now you’ve seen the end of me.

Voice of Satan:

Running, feet pounding, breath short heart rate high. You ran after me before you said hi. The halls surround me like a mouse in a maze, the cheese not found. You draw out the knife and you run faster, I fall and crawl away but you are too fast for me and stomp on my hair with your black combat boots. I beg and plead but I see no mercy but I fight. You cut my cheek, slit my wrists and slash my legs. Hang me upside down and take the photographs to put on Facebook later. You giggle like a little school girl who is excited for her first date, have you even killed before? I beg and plead and still… ….nothing; not even a glimmer of sympathy. And then, in walked someone I never would have suspected to have been in this room. I at first thought he was going to save me, but when he shot me in the heart with that silver bullet; I knew what side he was on. Your words are dripping venom; leaking poison.

Knock Out:

Your voice is so harsh; it’s like a slap in the face. As you speak I’m slapped and as you say those harsh words it’s like a round house kick to the head. And as you say those three words and walk out the door I’m knocked out cold and the referee calls ‘’K.O’’.  Before you left you stood by the open door and said that we’d still be friends. You lied; we haven’t spoken, and when we do it turns into a fight. A fight that is like world war three.

Elanora Podvert:

Smiles filled the room, every child wore a smile but one little girl. This little girl wasn’t like any other. She didn’t like to play with dollies, she hated the colour pink, she didn’t throw tea parties for her dollies and she most certainly didn’t want to be a princess when she grew up. She loved stabbing her voodoo dolls and playing with insects, she loved the colour blood red and dark green, she collected spiders and painted pictures of her family, before the incident and if she was to be a princess of anything she would be a princess of the realm of darkness.

Elanora Podvert wasn’t like any other seven year old girl; she was more mature than the other ones. She once lived in a big castle like estate in Romania, until it was burnt into a mound of meaningless rubble, along with her parents whom were still inside. The only thing found of her parents was a hand and a severely tarnished piece of clothing, which by the little evidence found by forensics was identified to be a piece of her mother’s cooking apron- nothing of her father was found. Elanora became an orphan at an early age and went from one orphanage to another, because she proved to be quite the handful. She created voodoo dolls of the other orphans and frightened them by saying if she stabbed their voodoo doll they would die; they didn’t believe her so she made voodoo dolls of the animals outside, stabbed it and then killed the animals with a rock. She fought with the other girls and made weapons and jabbed the boys in their sleep. When Elanora turned 9 she began to settle down and was adopted into a family of 4 children, the family had a single mother and a daughter who was 15, a son who was 10, a daughter that had a speaking impairment who was 11 and another daughter that had just returned home to help her mum with the divorce who was 22.

Elanora had pale skin, chocolate brown hair and hazel eyes; she was a small child with striking faecal features and wore gothic clothing. Her new home was large, larger than her old house. Flash backs of her old family came to mind, she could hear the happy laughter of her mother as her father twirled her round and round in her beautiful sun dress from the kitchen, Elanora was sitting at the oak tree with her older brother Tyler. He died in drive by shooting. She remembered the time she and her little sister were playing catch, and the ball rolled out to the road and Ella ran to get it and a large jeep drove into her tiny little body sending her tiny insides flying all about, it took Elanora day to wash her baby sisters guts and blood out of her hair and even longer to wash the memory from her mind. Elanora stood in the drive way of her new home with tears streaming down her pale cheek, her new mum kneeled in front of her wearing the concerned gaze a parent would give her child, she hugged her and asked her why she was crying and Elanora told her new mum the events of her past.

The first night in Elanora’s new home felt like eternity. She couldn’t sleep, there was a toy that looked like Ella’s favourite bunny and it just sat on that shelf and glared at her, its glare said it all. It accused her of Ella’s death; the glare said that it was her fault Ella went to get the ball. The glare said that it should have been Elanora that was hit and not Ella, but when Elanora finally got wrapped up in the secure blanket of sleep, it wasn’t so secure. She had a nightmare about what happened to her family. About the fire; the drive by and the car crash. Everything felt so real, like she was reliving it, but in the victim’s body. She could smell every odour, the ash, burning flesh and blood. She could feel the flames engulfing her, the bullets sinking into her flesh and the car crushing her small body. She could hear everything so clear the helpless and lost screams and howls of her burning parents, the machine gun changing magazines and each round entering her brother’s body and the screams of by -standers and ambulance sirens and the screams of mum and dad when they watched their youngest child die on the road, she died slowly from blood loss, Elanora could hear every rasped word, every rasped plea for death to come faster. Elanora awoke in a fit of screams and tears. She had never had a nightmare so intense, It was the house…

Roses blowing in the wind; Red, white and yellow; colours so vibrant, and fresh. Coffin lids covered in beautiful roses. Smiles are shared about the memories made, and tears for the regrets remembered. Wishes to have done something more, dreams to go back and do something differently, in hope for things to have changed. Wishes; to have kept promises and secrets, wishes to have done more.

Pictures are shared, cheerful memories show themselves. Oaths are spoken, sandwiches eaten and doves are released into the heat of the world. Goodbyes are given, more tears are shed, meaningful poems shared. Family and friends come to the corpses and say something they’ve always wanted to say to them. Confessions made lies untold and truths revealed; this is Elanora’s parents and sibling’s funeral. 

Reviews

[Woody]

I enjoyed reading this flash fictions, Chloe. they're really good. the descriptions, the flashbacks. you know how to grab the reader's attention. Bravo.
P.S. why don't you edit the "faecal" mistake? makes it a little funny :)

[Symphonic_Sunflowers]

Haha thankyou! And i was going to! But then i thought id leave it in for a chuckle :p

[Nick Seymour]

"striking faecal features" that is some nice poo- love it :-)
Seriously, I like the raw aggression in your writing, keep that. Maybe try to vary the way you describe by throwing in a bit of metaphor to make the reader infer a bit more?

[Symphonic_Sunflowers]

Sweet as! Thankyou so much, Nick and yes, i should use some metaphors in there.
this was an awesome review, thankyou

[Symphonic_Sunflowers]

FACIAL FEATURES NOT FAECAL FEATURES OMG PLEASE DONT READ IT LIKE FAECAL I MEANT FACIAL