Category Archives: Flash fiction

Noodles of Doom

“Go on, do it again!”
    There was another burst of drunken laughter as Marion waved the feather duster dramatically. “O Lord of darkness, with this feather duster of doom I do summon thee,” she cried. “See how the noodles of evil dance in thy honour!” She had to stop at this point as she was overcome with hysterical giggling.
    Dan hauled himself to his feet and positioned himself opposite his drinking companion. “Halt, thou worshipper of all things evil!” he shouted. “With this… Biro…” Another burst of laughter “…I will drive thee back into the pits of Hades were thou belongest!”
    “Stop it!” exclaimed Linda. “I’m nearly wetting myself here.” The two performers slumped back onto their chairs as yet more vodka was poured out. Outside the run-down barn the wind whistled mournfully threw the cracks and knotholes. “Core, listennesat,” Martin slurred. “Sas proper Hallween weather thassis.” There was more drunken sniggering. “You think Dracula’ll turn up?” somebody asked. “Nah, got done in, dinnee,” somebody else answered. “Yeah, but whabou ghos,” said Martin. “They’re sposebe all active ‘n stuff at Hallween.” 
    Pulling himself to his feet, he raised his arms and began lurching drunkenly around the barn making woo woo noises. This prompted another fit of laughter from his companions. “See! The evil one walks among us!” yelled Marion, jumping to her feet and brandishing the feather duster and plastic cup of instant noodles once more. “Speak, oh evilest of evil ones and let us know thy wish!” “My wish… my wish is…” began Martin.”Another drink!”
    Everyone cheered and several people downed the remainder of theirs in one to join him. There was a brief silence as drinks were swigged and crisps were munched on. Finally someone asked: “But seriously, is there such a thing’s ghosts?” there was a chorus of ‘nah’ and ‘don’t be stupid’. “If there was then something’d have turned up by now,” commented Marion. “I mean, we summoned it, didn’t we?” Dan snorted.
    “Yeah right, with the feather duster of doom and the noodles of evil.”
    “And bloody good noodles they were too,” said Martin and let out a colossal belch.

“Hey, is it me or is it getting colder in here?” somebody asked at length. In the group’s current state, this should have prompted a comment along the lines of ‘you need another drink to warm you up.’ But everyone felt the change in temperature now. At the same moment a cloud drifted across the moon, blocking its silvery rays which up til then had been lighting the barn through a skylight.
    The shadows suddenly seemed much darker and somehow threatening. “Come on, it’s just a cloud blocking the moonlight,” said Dan, trying to sound nonchalant. There was a soft creaking from somewhere near the door and then several people screamed.
    In the middle of the ever deepening, ever lengthening shadows two glowing red eyes had appeared. Slowly the shadows massed together around these eyes into a huge, hulking, impenetrable darkness that flowed towards the terrified drinkers, engulfing them. The shrieks of fear turned to screams of agony, then choked gurgling and finally silence.
    Slowly the dark mass retreated back to the corner where it had originated. As it did so the glowing eyes travelled malevolently over the scene in the now silent barn. All that was left of the drunken merrymaking were cooling puddles of melted glass and piles of bleached bones. Before fading into the night, the eyes lingered for a moment on the two items that seemed out of place in the horrendous scene. A half melted plastic cup, out of which protruded a noodle, and a single, slightly scorched feather.

Prompt: write a horror scene (or something horrific) using a wet noodle, a styrofoam cup and a feather.

Copyright © Rainbow

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Posted by on Sunday 14 June 2015 in Flash fiction, Horror, Humour


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It is a dark and stormy night… Hang on, didn’t someone already use that to start a novel or something…? Well anyhow, it’s dark and it’s stormy and it’s night… you get the picture. As I sit here typing this out, forks of lightning light up the sky outside… Blast, this isn’t going the way I’d hoped.
    Right, forget the dramatics. I don’t know why I bothered trying. My story’s hardly horror movie material. At least not from my point of view, anyway. Though most people would disagree, I guess.
This rambling isn’t getting me anywhere, so I’ll start at the beginning. When things started to go bad.

I moved here, oh, I don’t know how many years ago. And for the first couple of decades everything was hunky dory. There were always the odd mortals who’d notice my ‘unusual’ habits, but on the whole I was more or less accepted as an eccentric millionaire or something along those lines.
    I was always careful never to cause disturbance, and I never ever let people see me in my… other forms. I kept out of their way, they kept out of mine. This arrangement worked fine. Until a couple of days ago, that is…


    Startled, I look up into the beam of a torch. I cover my eyes against the blinding light, trying to see the holder beyond. “And what do you think your doing?” a loud, gruff voice demands.
    “I… um… I…”
    “Thinking you could just sneak in and steal everything’ in sight did you?”
    “No! I…”
    “Yeah yeah. You can give your lame excuses to the police. I bet… Oh my God!”
    The owner of the voice suddenly drops the torch. He stares at me in horror, before turning and running at full speed back to the house. I don’t understand. What did I do? I’m not in the wrong form; I’m always very careful about that when venturing anywhere near inhabited areas.
    Then I look down… and see the blood. It’s gone all over the place. No wonder he reacted that way. Crap! I’d better get out of here. He’s bound to be back before long with reinforcements. Then there’ll be no point trying to explain…


And here I am. Without anywhere to go or anybody to turn to. I tried sneaking off; that nearly got me lynched. Yes, I suppose it was inevitable and all that. And yes, I should have been more careful. But it’s not as if I murdered anybody. What is one cow more or less? It was either that or break the habit of half a lifetime. And it’s hardly my fault there were no other creatures around that night.
    Hang on… What’s that noise outside? Yep, just as I thought. They’re coming. Who’d have thought that even in this day and age people can still be so superstitious. Ah well. My own fault for choosing this place. If I’d lived somewhere else I might simply have been banged up in a secure unit from which I could easily have escaped and moved somewhere else.
    Wonder what would have happened if I’d gone for one of them instead of one of their livestock. Maybe I’d have had time to scarper while the police were investigating. I expect a desiccated corpse with puncture wounds in the neck isn’t something the average copper comes across very often. But then again, the penny would have dropped sooner or later I expect.

I’m going to miss the old place. Even the horrible old full-length mirror. Could never stand mirrors. That’s the one… difference I can’t hide. I only kept it so as not to look too odd to the outside world. Ironic, really; that it was the most easily hidden difference that got me caught in the end.
    They’re on the stairs now. I guess this is it. Now or never and all that. It wouldn’t be breaking my vow, that was only about feeding, after all. And it’s the only way to have any chance of a new start.
    Right, where are those matches…


“Where’s he gone!?”
    “How should I know! Maybe he’s hiding somewhere.”
    The mob is so worked up that nobody notices the faint smell of petrol wafting up from the floor below. And by the time it dawns on them that something is wrong, it’s already too late…

As the flames leap into the night sky, a lone bat flies low over the tree tops.

Copyright © Rainbow

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Posted by on Thursday 28 May 2015 in Fantasy, Flash fiction, Horror, Humour


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The Witness

“Look, I told your people all I can when they first turned up at the scene. I don’t see what good it’ll do going over it all again. And it’s not as if I can give you anything useful, anyway.”
    Beside Carl, his guide dog shifted, possibly sensing his master’s irritation. “That’s how we do things I’m afraid,” replied the officer sitting opposite him. Carl might have found this rather patronising, but he just wanted to get out of there as soon as possible, so didn’t make any further fuss. Instead, he began his story again.
    “Well, I was waiting in line with my sister. There was somebody further towards the front kicking up a fuss, it sounded like it was about a discount or something. Then it turned into an argument with a lot of shouting; somebody screamed and then it was just chaos. That’s all I can tell you.” “And you’re sure you didn’t catch any of what was being said?” the officer asked. Carl sighed. Did he think he had super hearing or something just because his eyes didn’t work?
    “No. There were several people shouting at once. And it’s not as if I go round listening in on everyone’s conversations, you know.”

After a few more questions they were finally finished and the officer helped Carl to the main doors. He still had a good ten minutes before his taxi would arrive. But the weather was nice and besides, he didn’t much fancy being patronised by the staff in there any longer.
    As he stood there, Carl’s thoughts drifted back to that day. Funny how you could just assume something like that would never happen to you. But it had. In the space of a few seconds he had gone from an anonymous member of the public to an eye witness in a murder investigation. Eye witness. The term still made him grin. Some eye witness he was, when he couldn’t even see the light of a torch shone full in his face. Still, they had to question everybody present. At least they hadn’t just dismissed him on the grounds that he hadn’t actually seen anything.
    The main shock had been discovering that he knew the victim. It turned out to be the dentist he had been going to since he was a teenager. Of course he hadn’t known him well; as well as anybody can get to know somebody they only see for five minutes a couple of times a year. But he had always treated him normally, not like ‘the poor disabled guy’ as some people tended to do.

What could drive someone to pull a knife and kill another human, just because of a disagreement over a discount? Whoever it was, was either a psychopath or had never heard of the concept of right and wrong.
    And there it was again. Stronger this time. He still couldn’t put his finger on it. A nagging feeling somewhere deep down that there was something wrong somewhere. Somewhere in those confused sounds was something he had missed. Something his subconscious seemed to have registered, but his conscious brain was refusing to accept. He concentrated on the memories. Yes. It had got something to do with the argument, just before the stabbing.
    The voice. That was it. For some inexplicable reason it sounded… familiar. He shrugged. He had known the victim. He had simply recognised his voice, that was all. It just hadn’t registered at the time. But why then did that feeling keep on nagging at him?

He was roused from his reverie by the sound of footsteps approaching. “Hi, Carl,” said a voice. “Hi,” he replied automatically. He didn’t recognise the voice, but then, that was often the case when he bumped into people outside the usual context.
    “Been in trouble?”
    “Nah, just ‘assisting the police with their inquiries’. A bloke got stabbed at the cinema the other day and I happened to be there…”
    He froze. All of a sudden it hit him. It hadn’t been the victim’s voice he’d recognised… it was the other voice. And, he realized in that same instant, it hadn’t been reluctance to dish on a friend that had made his brain refuse to let the knowledge surface fully. It was the fact that his friend should have been doing time in a secure psychiatric unit for attempted murder. He had to get back inside. Tell someone…
    Abruptly he turned, yanked his guide dog, who had been basking in the afternoon sun up onto his feet and made to go back into the police station. A hand on his shoulder and something hard and cold at his neck stopped him in his tracks. “I don’t think so,” said a soft voice by his ear.

Prompt: A dentist is stabbed while he waits in line at the movies.

Copyright © Rainbow

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Posted by on Friday 22 May 2015 in Flash fiction, General