Thanks to everyone in the Short Story Club for your wonderful feedback on story number two “Someone to Watch Over Her.” More about that at the end of this post – I want to get straight onto another first for this blog.
This week I’ve decided to join in on the amazing Friday Flash phenomenon that I have been watching from the sidelines for the past few weeks (flash fiction is a story of 1000 words or less). The Friday Flash community was started by J. M. Strother and you can read a summary from the fellow himself over at Editor Unleashed. So before any ado, here is my first Friday Flash offering, a bonus one for the short story club followers!
Burnt
The ruined house was still smouldering when she arrived. Most of the whitewashed walls remained, now blackened from the smoke that had billowed out from the windows. They looked like rectangular sockets in a strange face – the charred front door assuming the role of gaping mouth, mirroring her own.
As much as she had tried to prepare herself, it had been inadequate. All she could do was stare at the shell and watch the wisps of grey smoke twisting up into the morning air. It was cold, the sun had yet to rise above the mountain and the rain had stolen any other warmth from the air. The noise from the surrounding forest was so loud, as if the animals were protesting at the violence of the fire in their habitat. They would have been used to the little house, nestled in the clearing all these years. For it to suddenly roar brutally for hours on end must have been a shock.
The rain mingled with the tears on her cheeks, the fat drops feeling like fingertips drumming on the top of her head. Her sodden clothes hung heavily on her and she dripped like the trees around her, motionless, taking it all in.
A hoot in the woods tore her attention from the house for a moment to look into the encroaching darkness. Why had she come here? Why put herself through this? Nothing could be done now.
Feeling wretched, she forced herself to move, as if she could somehow walk away from the feeling and leave it standing in the muddy footprints she left behind. Moving towards the house, she could hear creaking, as if it were groaning in its death throes. She felt sorry for it, she had loved this house. So many happy times had wrapped themselves around her here. Green mornings and pink sunsets, toasted marshmallows and home-made lemonade, all had come to her here.
She stopped, letting the sobs take her body. The stench of the black smoke insulted those bright memories. She was tempted to turn and run, never to come back, taking herself and those sparkling moments so far away that they couldn’t be soiled by the soot and the smoke and the fumes. But she didn’t give in to it. She was braver than that.
She reached the threshold and peered in. The roof was gone and the internal ceilings had collapsed, with the loft caved into the rooms below. She remembered when it used to be a smart little one-storey stone house, with yellow gingham curtains and carved wooden window frames. The plaque above the door had somehow survived the fire. She read the words that her grandmother had made and her grandfather had hung there. “Welcome, please leave mud and worries outside.” The longing to see them once again bubbled up; the plaque had lost its power when they died.
She dared not step inside, it looked too dangerous. The remaining internal walls were ready to fall in any moment, and the floorboards were badly damaged. Even if it had been safe, she couldn’t have entered. Not a second time that evening.
The dog barked from the car and she jumped. “I won’t be a minute Max,” she called over to him. He was getting restless, sensing something was wrong. Wondering where his master was.
The thought of him pulled her attention back into the ruin. Even though she felt the bile rising, even though she was terrified that she might see something, she had to look. Did he get out in time? Was he out there in the woods, running for help?
Was he watching her now from the edge of the trees?
Her eyes scanned the wreckage with desperation, the imagined spy making her shiver. Then they fell upon the sole of a boot, toe pointing up at the sky, and she turned to vomit into the mud.
She propped herself up with hands braced against shaking knees until it was over, and then forced herself to look back at that boot.
“He didn’t get out,” she whispered to herself. “He’s dead.” She plunged her hands into her pockets, felt the box of matches, rubbed her thumb along the striking edge. “You’ll never do that to any child ever again, you sick bastard,” she spat through her teeth, and then turned to leave her father in the house for the last time.
* * *
Iapetus999 asked if I could make the Short Story Club a weekly activity (which was a lovely compliment, thank you!). Well, I’m afraid I can’t do that at the moment as I have to earn enough money to keep a roof over my family’s head, so writing for business people takes up the lion’s share of my time. Unless I win the lottery (and I don’t play) or Twenty Years Later goes nova (hey, a girl can dream!), the Short Story Club will remain monthly.
So, time for you to bring out your dead ideas for the October round. Opening lines, concepts, titles, whatever you like. Anyone can suggest here in the comments, but you have to be a member to read the story – you can read about it and join for free here if you’re new to this idea. I can’t wait to see what you wonderful people come up with this month!
Yay, the bastard got his. Didn’t expect the ending, so kudos to you. Welcome to FF! Peace, Linda
Emma, You truly have a gift! I was also surprised by the ending. Someday perhaps you’ll give us the back story …
Great twist at the end! Welcome to #fridayflash!
Wow! Vivid… and a powerful ending.
Welcome!
Wow! You’ve done it again Emma, sucked me right in and then knocked me over on my, er…
What a great story!
Hmm, opening line for October’s short story club? How’s about:
“It’s not a great feeling waking up and wishing you hadn’t,” she thought, “but it’s worse not waking up and wishing you had!”
Enjoyed the little clue you laid with her entering the cottage for the second time. I also liked the yellow gingham curtains and sun not risen over the mountain visuals enormously. Welcome to Friday Flash!
That made me shiver, literally. You’re so good at those shadowy nightmare hints & then the reveal at the end. Brrr.
Wow, if you get any darker I’m going to need a stiff drink with your next short story!
Speaking of which, have an opening line:
“Five minutes after the end of nursery, Abby was still in the classroom painting away furiously.”
“Not a second time that evening” OH! I get it now. Very nice twisty ending, didn’t see that coming at all. Great writing, I was totally standing there with her, feeling her pain and then her anger & anguish. Welcome.
Great way to make an entrance into fridayflash. Great twist with some clever foreshadowing. Welcome
Thanks again for a wonderful story.
Now for an October opening line:
Josh felt stupid enough dressed as a long forgotten cartoon character. At 15, he considered himself too old for trick-or-treat, but he had promised his Mum that he would take his 8 year old sister. Two jobs left her so little time….
Wow, did not see that coming. Really packs a punch at the end. Nice piece of flash here, Emma. So glad you finally decided to come in from the sidelines. Thanks for participating.
(By the way, my dog, Max, appreciates that the dog got out and has such a great name.)
~jon
Hi Emma,
What a beautifully written captivating story.
I now understand why George @ Tumblemoose chose to showcase your blog.
Your writing rocks.
Oooh, good twist!
Very well written – I love the part about the animals protesting, and also “and the rain had stolen any other warmth from the air”
Clear and vivid writing.
Then they fell upon the sole of a boot, toe pointing up at the sky, and she turned to vomit into the mud.
Well said. Subtle. I like that.
Great story, I didn’t see that coming. I look forward to reading more of your work… on Fridays
~2
Nice touch, referencing the plaque above the door, then how things changed with the grandparent’s passing. I like foreshadowing that you don’t realize was foreshadowing until the end.
Leaving my short story idea for you Em – will be back to read your inaugral flash fiction.
The music followed her as she walked out, taking her places she didn’t want to go.
Emma, I love the way the girl is situated as an onlooker in the reader’s mind who only later is revealed as the instigator delivering karmic justice. Wonderful work!
First lines:
Bones always tell a story.
Fireworks exploded above the tree line.
In the back of the barn lay a wooden chest that hadn’t been opened in years.
Floorboards creaked, announcing our presence to any otherworld inhabitants of the abandoned mansion.
Johnson suspected something was wrong when he rolled his twelfth “7″ in a row.
A few ideas …
“You always get what you deserve, he thought.”
“The little island hadn’t been visited for years. It was just too dangerous.”
“Photos never quite capture the true essence of a person.”
And I also really love Iapetus’s
“Johnson suspected something was wrong … ”
and Jodi’s
“The music followed her as she walked out …”
“It was the heaviest bag he had ever carried. But he couldn’t put it down.”
“… but the recipe had been very specific. 67 minutes…”
I loved ‘Burnt’! Read the line “Not a second time…” three times before I continued on, delicious thrills of anticipation running up my spine…
I want one of those plaques above my own front door!
Bravo Emma!
Lovely story… gotta love watching jerks burn.
And an idea:
“And so I danced with the devil, and he danced a mean Tango; I was told only gentlemen could dance, but nothing about this man was gentlemanly.”
This is great, very powerful and polished for such a quick piece! I love that you managed to work in foreshadowing, and sharpened the mood slowly until it came to a very pointed end indeed.
Hm, an idea…
As the October sunlight begins to thin, so do the veils between the worlds.
Thanks for the comments on my little flash there, greatly appreciated, I’ve really enjoyed dipping my toe into the friday flash pool.
And as for these short story club ideas… wow! I am spoilt for choice. Many, many thanks for giving me such a deliciously difficult decision!
Another cracking story Em.
Here are some ideas for the October story. Some a little dark.
He woke up naked on the bed and saw to his horror a bloodied toe on his pillow. “what the hell” he said. Then he looked down and fainted!!!
She wondered why everyone she saw seem to have a halo around their head.
The humming stopped…. The silence was ripped apart by….
She knew she was not supposed to but she could not help herself.
I loved the story. I wish karma had more bite more often.. Anyways.. story beginnings.
- The steady dripping of the rain on the leaves was slowly driving her mad, all the way down to her sodden boots.
- His eyes were squeezed tight, because if he closed them enough, then it wouldn’t be happening to him.
- Unsettling to the crew, who were used to the sea’s moods and motions, was the strange way she was drawing back her skirts to reveal her elaborate reef undergarments.