manic mondays

My body was acting on its own now. Rather, it was acting on the voice’s will. I could only watch as my own hand brought the carton to my lips, and drizzled the contents down my throat. The liquid burned all the way into my stomach. As I took a step back in anguish, I tripped over a skeleton, and fell down with a crash. More cartons appeared above me and poured their contents all over me, drenching me in that burning liquid. I lay in the pool of liquid, pain searing my body, until I heard a sound. The sweet dopamine inducing diapason, took all the pain away. Then I fathomed the source of the sound – A figure made of pure, white light. I could feel a bed of dandelions covering the derelict floor as the white figure approached. I wondered if this was an angelic dispensation.

However, I realized that there was nothing remotely angelic about the figure. As it approached closer, the sound grew deafeningly loud. The dandelions sprouted razor sharp thorns. And the figure itself transformed into an ominous black entity. I could hear the voice speaking to me again. This time it seemed much closer than it had in the past. It was inside my head, speaking over the routinely increasing sound.

“Now, we shall unlock the demonic powers inside you. Transform, and be reborn as my hell spawn. My servant.”

Those were the last words I heard before my body went completely numb, and darkness took me.

(Read the sequel here – Part 8: Flash Fiction: The Hard Way 2)

Word Count: 298

Prompts:

Bonus Wordle “The Letter D”

Manic Mondays 3 Way Prompt: Ominous

Weekly Writing Challenge #162

Word of the Day Challenge “Fathom”

FOWC with Fandango – Routine

Flash Fiction: Watcher

I had initially thought that the trek was a bad idea. I was reluctant to join in. However, my friends convinced me, and I am glad they did. They could not fathom my reluctance. They did not know that this place held bad memories for me.

I pushed those memories aside, and enjoyed the trek. As we we were departing, a fog settled in. Concealed in it, I could see a figure watching us. No, not us. It was watching me. She was watching me.

She lingered on, even after falling to her death, the last time I was here.

Word Count: 100

Prompts:

Thursday photo prompt: Watcher #writephoto

Manic Mondays 3 Way Prompt: Departing

Masters of Writing Flash Fiction Challenge, Week 16

Flash Fiction: Clash 3

This is the Tenth part of the story!

Find the prequels here:

Part 1- Twittering Tales: Statues

Part 2- Flash Fiction: Nice Neighborhood

Part 3- Twittering Tale: Raindrops

Part 4- Flash Fiction: Briefing

Part 5- Flash Fiction: The Hunt Begins

Part 6- Flash Fiction: Target Sighted

Part 7- Flash Fiction: Ready

Part 8- Flash Fiction: Clash

Part 9 – Flash Fiction: Clash 2

Happy reading! 🙂

The bullet hit Medusa right at the centre of her forehead, knocking her back.

Within moments, she got to her feet. The bullet had failed to put even a scratch on her. She spotted Agent Keynes among the trees, reloading his gun. Billy sucked in his breath and aimed for Medusa’s heart. It was a difficult shot to take. The weight of the gun combined with the distance he was at, made hitting the target a herculean task. Nevertheless, Billy knew he had to do it.

Medusa sensed a presence other than the mortal with the sniper rifle. She shifted her gaze to the left and noticed the hidden presence. It was only a young lad, struggling to hold the gun he had trained on her. She recognized the gun as Perseus’ heavy pistol. It was a potent weapon that could kill her, but only in the hands of Perseus, who lay crumpled by her feet. She would take out the foolish boy first and then the other agent. She readied herself to make a quick dash towards the lad. He was no match for her speed.

Billy saw Medusa shift her stance. He could sense her bloodlust being directed towards him. He gulped. This had now become a do or die situation for him. One shot would determine which way it went. He shot at her, placing all his hope in the one bullet. He watched on, as Medusa calmly dodged the bullet.

He had missed. He knew had reached the end of his journey.

(Find the final part here: Flash Fiction: End )

Word Count: 310

Prompts:

Thursday photo prompt: Caught #writephoto

Manic Mondays 3 Way Prompt: Journey

Flash Fiction: Coffee

He sat at the coffee shop, much like every morning, enjoying the little free time he got.

He checked his watch: 9.30, an hour of freedom and then back to the terrors of his servile corporate job.

The line moved forward, and it would soon be his turn to place his order with the cute barista: Cindy, with her comely smile and penchant to get his name right, he had grown quite attracted to her

He had been trying to muster up the courage to ask her out for a week now, but had never managed to until now, when it was finally his turn to place his order with Cynthia, she smiled at him and he felt a hush descend over the crowd, he was finally going to do it.

Just as he was about to utter the words, he heard a beep coming from his phone, a message had just arrived in his email mailbox, a message from his boss: Quickly get me a coffee and reach office in 5 mins.

He sighed, tomorrow, he thought to himself…

Word Count: 178

Prompts:

Six Sentence Story “Mailbox”

BrewNSpew Cafe Word of the Week “Servile”

JSW Prompt 20-08-18

Manic Mondays 3 Way Prompt “Hush”

Image Credit: https://www.the4ofus.co.uk/blog/2015/10/7/the-roasting-pimplicovictoria

Twittering Tale: Dirge

I hear it every night, the dirge.

Its dark melody does not let me sleep. The song calls out to me. It’s disturbing.

Why can’t my victims just stay dead. Why do they have to sing? If they had learned to shut up, they would have been alive.

Jeez! Annoying even in death….

Character Count: 270

Prompts:

Twittering Tale #97 – 14 August 2018 – Things That Go Bump in the Night

Manic Mondays 3 Way Prompt: Dirge

Flash Fiction: Smoke

It was a cold winter’s night, and the smoky apparition craved dearly for a smoke.

Her gorgeous lifeless eyes fell upon a red neon sign reading: Tobacco Shop

Passing through the doors, she made her way right to the counter and placed her ruby earring on it.

“My good man, I would like a large packet of phantom cigarettes please and I am willing to exchange my earing for it.”

“We only serve the real deal here, my dear belated ma’am,” The old manager said.

“That is such a rude thing to say, spirits are the real deal too, you know,” Said the offended blue-eyed ghost.

“You can find those in the wine shop next to the apple orchard, ma’am,” The old man said conclusively.

(Phantom cigarettes are an Indian brand of candy cigarettes)

Word Count: 125

Prompts:

Six Sentence Story Word Prompt #15

3 Things Challenge 6th August

Your Daily Word Prompt – Belated – August 6th, 2018

August Flash Fiction Draw

Manic Mondays 3 Way Prompt: Forlorn

Flash Fiction: Briefing

This is the fourth part of this story!

Read the prequels here:

Part 1- Twittering Tales: Statues

Part 2- Flash Fiction: Nice Neighborhood

Part 3- Twittering Tale: Raindrops

Agent Keynes and Cadet Billy waited at the abandoned shed.

They looked at the man approaching them. The ghostly figure clad entirely in black walked slowly, his tailcoat fluttering in the wind.

“Sir, is this really the legendary Special Agent Perseus?”

Agent Keynes nodded.

“Don’t go on his looks Billy.”

Perseus stopped in front of Keynes.

“Keynes. I believe you have the gear.”

Keynes motioned to Billy, who removed the silver pistol hidden below the wood. He could barely hold it. Perseus snatched it with relative ease, eyed it expressionlessly, and holstered it.

“Time to take down Medusa, again.”

(Find the sequel here – Flash Fiction: The Hunt Begins)

Word Count: 100

Prompts:

Friday Fictioneers 3rd August 2018

FOWC with Fandango “Expression”

Manic Mondays 3 Way Prompt 30/07/2018

Flash Fiction: Trapped

I am caught like a fly in a trap.

Immobilized completely, quarantined in darkness and silence.

My adversary got me good, making me fall for his devious machinations.

My eternal body is now trapped in a deathly mesh.

The razor-sharp strings draw fresh blood from my body with every slight movement, exhausting me.

However, my scarred body will escape one day, and he will suffer my wroth…

Word Count: 67

Prompts:

Six Sentence Stories “Exhaust”

Masters of Writing Flash Fiction Challenge “Strings”

Manic Mondays “Silence”

Weekend Writing Prompt “Quarantine”

Image Credit: Trapped by Chaos the Demon

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The Dark Netizen

Short Stories and Poems – Mostly dark ones!

manic mondays

Flash Fiction: The Adventure Begins

Flash Fiction: The Hard Way

Flash Fiction: Watcher

Flash Fiction: Clash 3

Flash Fiction: Coffee

Twittering Tale: Dirge

Flash Fiction: Smoke

Flash Fiction: Briefing

Flash Fiction: Trapped