Hello everyone and a warm welcome to Part 3) of the entries for my weekly: “Fiction in A Flash Challenge” Week #21.
Today I’m featuring a contribution from entry 3)By T L Reeve
Last week I set the following Challenge:
Hello everyone and welcome to my new “Fiction in A Flash Challenge!” Each week I’ll be featuring an image and inviting you to write a Flash Fiction or Non-Fiction piece inspired by that image in any format and genre of your choosing. Maximum word count: 750 words.
Here is the image prompt.
This… Is it? This is the house you bought with your inheritance?” Marcus, my best friend, said taking in the property. “This place.”
I shrugged. “I mean, it needs a couple of coats of paint.”
“It needs to be bulldozed. Into oblivion.” Marcus scrubbed his brow as he began to pace. “What—What are you going to do with this place, Miranda?”
“Hide the bodies?”
“The… Bodies?” In slow motion, he lifted his face, so our gazes collided. “What bodies, Miranda?”
“The ones in my basement?” I scrunched up my face. “Duh.”
“The ones… Where?” The exasperation in his voice perplexed me. He opened his mouth to say something, then turned away. “This little game of yours is becoming a bit grating.”
“If you don’t believe me, check out behind the house.” I’d already planted some of the remains before bringing Marcus out here.
“What happened to you, Miranda?”
I stared at him. What happened to me? What happened to him? He’d been my partner in crime. My ride or die, bitch. We did everything together. Even our first murders. Now he wants to know what happened to me? Nothing. I was fulfilling the prophecy while he became some straight-laced lawyer. “Look, we’re almost finished. Who would think to look out in this dump for a body? No one, that’s who.”
“I shouldn’t be here. I won’t jeopardize my position or the new life I am building,” he hissed. “You shouldn’t be here—and for fuck’s sake, what bodies?”
“We made a pact, you and me. I’m finishing it.”
“You’re insane.” He stomped away. The dry, dead leaves crunched under his feet as he went. “Criminally Insane.”
I tilted my head. “It’s a shame you’ll have to die now too. You’ve seen too much. You know my plan.”
He stopped dead in his tracks. “Miranda, now you’re scaring me. Don’t do anything you’ll regret.”
I started for him, my pace slow and deliberate so as not to give him any reason to run. I snorted, I already had, hadn’t I? “Regret? I have no regrets, Marcus.” I pinned him to the tree behind him and laughed. The pulse at his neck fluttered and the scent of his fear was tantalizing. I struck then like a rabid dog about to gorge themselves on what might be their final meal.
I jolted awake.
Marcus’ shrill scream rang in my ears along with my phone’s ringtone. I picked it up and glanced at the screen. Sun Valley Trust. My bank. I slid the toggle on the screen and answered while pushing my wild, disheveled curls from my face. “Hello?”
“Good morning, Ms. Cartwright, this is Mr. Foster from the bank. I just wanted you to know the sale went through a few moments ago. Congratulations, you’re a homeowner.”
I found a cute little house in the middle of the woods that would be perfect for me. “Uh, wow, thanks, I suppose.” I rubbed my face trying to wake myself up a bit more from that nightmare. “What happens next?”
“Escrow takes about thirty days then you’ll receive the keys to your home,” Mr. Foster replied. “If you want to swing by, I have a copy of all your paperwork waiting.”
“Sure.” I glanced at the clock. “I’ll be there in twenty.”
“I’ll see you then. Congratulations.”
I sat there for a moment staring at the screen, still trying to shake the remnants of my dream. Who buys a dilapidated abandoned house to bury bodies at, let alone eat her best friend? I seriously need to stop watching American Horror Story before bed.
I should call Marcus. His phone rang three times, then went straight to voicemail. “Bitch, it’s me. I bought a house, we should celebrate.”
Meanwhile at the “house…”
The call came in at seven, hunters found the body while putting out corn. A man had been mutilated at the old Worthington Estates. The house had been in disrepair for years, until recently.
The vibration from a phone caught my attention, and I rolled the body, finding it in the victims back pocket. The name Miranda was on the screen. When the prompt for a voicemail showed up, I did what I had to. I listened.
“Bitch, it’s me. I bought a house, we should celebrate.”
I glanced at the victim. Unfortunately, there’d be no celebrating for Mr. Marcus Hampton. “Someone get a cover over what’s left of the body. Don’t need the evidence tainted… Add his phone too.”
T L Reeve can be reached here email@example.com