One spooky less than 300 word flash fiction piece.
So, here is mine:
The cobwebs hang from the bookcase like a sweater begging to be tried on. If they were fake, they’d be charming. Instead, their ghost-like wisps send shivers. I know this place is haunted. The jack-o-lanterns we’d carved when I was seven are still here, preserved like we’d done them yesterday, rather than years ago.
Taking a deep breath, I wander the house I’d lived in.
“We have to cook the seeds first! Otherwise the witches will come and put you in their cauldron and cook you for dinner!” My mother scolded.
“How would they find me?” I challenged, chomping away at the uncooked pumpkin seeds.
“The seeds give signals…”
I shake my head and push the image away. It wasn’t the witches that found us. It was my father.
Outside, a twig snaps. My bones freeze. I can’t breathe.
I beg the ghosts, “Please make me invisible, protect me.”
A breeze floats through the curtains, and the door bursts open. He’s here, wild, drunk.
I’m frozen, a statue to be shattered. There’s nowhere to hide.
His line of vision meets my eyes, but it’s like he’s looking through me. He stumbles through what used to be the living room, and I back myself against the counter, hands frantically pawing for anything to use. A cool razor blade, the kind you’d use to cut open a taped box with, finds its way into my hands. I step forward, toward the monster rather than freedom.
As I raise my hand to strike, the man trips, and falls. A small trickle of blood escapes his mouth. Please let him have hit his head hard enough to have brain damage, I pray again.
Beside his crumpled body, I drop my weapon and venture into the night.
Who says miracles don’t happen on Halloween?