Asylum

“Dr. Hammond gave Grace a lobotomy yesterday.” Tish speaks nonchalantly, as if talking about the weather.

“Is she dead?” Renee asks.

“It’s like she is now.” Tish shrugs. “She won’t put up much of a fight anymore.” She reclines in the tub. The water is clear, and Renee can see Tish’s blurred naked body just beneath the surface.

“Do you think Dr. Hammond does that?”

“He’s a man in a hospital full of crazy women.” Tish sits up and writes RAPY in permanent marker on the side of the tub. Then she stands. Renee’s eyes are drawn to her perfectly round bottom.

“Are you leaving already?”

“Yes, I’m getting pruned.” She steps out, walks over and sits on the edge of Renee’s tub. “Unless you want me to stay.” She runs her fingers through Renee’s wet hair.

Renee’s eyes drift to Tish’s perky breasts, her hard brown nipples like chocolate chips she could lick.

The door behind them swings open, and Tish jumps to her feet. Dr. Hammond enters. He eyes the women, clicks his tongue in his throat. “Hmm, I thought the shock therapy was working with you two.” He writes on his clipboard and leaves the room.

Tish twists her lips. “Well, I guess we’re not cured, yet.”

Renee pulls her knees to her chin. “Will we ever be cured?”

“No,” Tish says, then submerges herself into the water between Renee’s legs.

—Nortina


asylumThis VisDare prompt is from a few weeks ago, but this photo was too good not to write a story to, no matter how late. As usual, I went over the 150 word limit. 😉

The Bottomless Pit

Benny’s mom got down on all fours and leaned over the mysterious hole in their driveway. She picked up the flashlight next to her and shined a beam of light into the darkness.

“I can’t see anything.” Her voice returned to her in low, grumbling echoes rising from the unseen bottom.

“I have this burning urge to shout, ‘This is Sparta!’ ” Benny said from behind her.

She sat up on her haunches and frowned at him over her shoulder. “Boy, I will whip your behind if you kick me into this hole.”

“I’m just joking, Ma.” He slapped her back, and she jerked away losing her balance, teetering over the hole momentarily before digging her nails into the concrete edge and pushing herself backward. Benny immediately threw his hands up, professing innocence to attempted foul play.

“If I had a belt,” she mumbled, shaking her head. “Get one of those rocks,” she directed, “throw it down there, listen for it to hit the bottom.

Benny did as he was told then dropped to his stomach and held his ear over the hole. “I can’t hear anything.”

“It can’t possibly be that de—”

“Wait! There’s something. It’s…it’s…a chirping? No, wait…a buzzing? Like bugs…big ones. It’s getting louder, like they’re coming up to the top. Oh, my god, there’s gotta be like a million of them!”

Benny fell back on his rear. Kicking up dust and rocks, he speedily propelled himself backward, away from the hole. He scrambled to stand and run, but his feet were like lead plates in his shoes. He tripped and rolled down the driveway out into the street.

Benny’s mom crawled to the back step. Believing the strength in her legs had abandoned her, she used the post to lift herself to her feet, only to realize the ground beneath her was shaking. She turned around just as what appeared to be a cloud of black smoke burst from the hole. She brought her arms to her face to shield her eyes.

A large cricket, the size of her hand, landed on her wrist. A second on her shoulder. A third clung to her shirt at her hip.

She looked up. Her son stood frozen at the end of the driveway, mouth agape.

“Benny! Benny, run!” she screamed as the swarm of locusts engulfed her.

—Nortina


128-11-november-1st-2015This piece of flash fiction is in response to this week’s photo prompt for Sunday Photo Fiction. Click the froggy icon to read other stories inspired by the photo and add your own.

 

It Came to a Birthday Party

After watching Stephen King’s It  as a child, I had always been deathly afraid of clowns. But my son was turning six, and he begged for a clown until I finally caved in.

That Saturday, I watched the party from the kitchen window while my husband supervised. What did a mother know about giving a growing boy a party anyway? If I had my way, he’d still be wearing my underwear on his head and trying to walk in my heels.

It arrived an hour late. I could see through his face paint, and when he stumbled out of the minivan, a small Jack Daniel’s bottle fell from his oversized pocket. He scooped my son in his arms and tossed him up and down in the air as if he were juggling.

I burst through the back door, screaming, “You demon! How dare you throw my child!”

The children stopped and stared. It said nothing, only swayed while holding my son.

My husband escorted me back to the house. “You forgot to take your pills again, sweetie.”

word count: ~175

—Nortina


This is in response to Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers: write a story in 100-150 words (give or take 25 words) using the provided photo prompt as inspiration.

Click on the froggy icon to read other stories and add your own!

from  pixabay.com
from pixabay.com

Outbreak

There was an outbreak at the county prison farm. Inmates were dying violent deaths, their bodies splitting open, their innards ejecting into the atmosphere. Being new to the Department of Health and Human Services, I was assigned the gruesome task of finding a cause.

The prison doctor took me down to the infirmary to look at his latest admitted patient. A man in his late twenties serving fifteen years for armed robbery. He had watched his cellmate die before his eyes, and they had immediately taken him in, assuming he’d been infected. They’d tested his blood, urine, and saliva, and found no trace of the parasite responsible for killed nearly three dozen prisoners. Still, they kept him under observation for he had been suffering from intense abdominal pains, wrapping his arms around himself, curling into the fetal position, and screaming uncontrollably. It might have been just shock, but if he had been infected, they couldn’t risk spreading it to the remaining inmates.

“This is Daniel, Ms. Ryan,” the doctor said. “Daniel, do you think you can sit up for us?”

Holding his stomach, Daniel pushed himself up, sliding against the wall. His orange jumpsuit and the white bed sheets were drenched. Sweat dripped from his nose, and he breathed heavily as he stared into my eyes. I recognized him instantly.

“Daniel?”

“Sabrina?” His eyes widened. “Oh my god.”

I reached out to touch his soaking face, and he rested his head on my gloved hand. His breathing slowed.

“Do you two know each other?” the doctor asked.

“An old friend,” I said, but he was more than a friend. I was madly in love with him in highschool. And graduation night, as we lay together naked on the cold, wood floor of his stepfather’s work shed, he finally admitted he felt the same. I hadn’t seen him since the day I left for college. He’d told me that he didn’t get accepted into the university we’d been planning to attend together. He didn’t even apply. We’d promised each other to make the distance work, but D.C. had more promising men who lied much better. I broke it off two weeks into my first semester at Howard University.

“Doctor, do you think I can talk to the patient alone for a few minutes?” I asked.

“Certainly.” He nodded, and left the room. I shuffled my feet in my hazmat suit, unsure of where to start. Daniel started for me.

“You look nice. From what can see at least.”

I gave him a weak smile. “What happened to you? How’d you end up here?”

“You always said I hung out with the wrong kind of people. I should have listened to you. Maybe I wouldn’t be here. Maybe I’d still be alive.”

“What’s going on here? What is this thing?”

“I wish I knew,” he said, shaking his head. Tears started to stream down his face. I couldn’t remember a time I’d ever seen him cry. “Reggie,” he said between sobs. “One minute he’s fine, the next, he’s throwing up this huge, black worm, and it’s cutting him in half.” He started to scream, cradling his stomach and drawing up his knees. “I can’t! I can’t!”

I took his face in both of my hands. “Shhhh.”

“You have to get me out of here. I can’t die in here.”

“Daniel—”

“Promise me! Promise me you’ll do whatever you can to save my life.”

For the next two weeks, I tried to use all my contacts in the justice system to get him transferred to another prison, but no one would have him. Everyone on that prison farm were assumed to be infected. They needed to contain the parasite, ensure that it wouldn’t spread to the general population. A month after my visit to the prison farm, they set the entire facility on fire, incinerating its occupants, Daniel included, with it.

—Nortina


This is much darker, and more “science fictiony” that what you are used to reading from me. This story is actually a dream I had about an ex a couple of nights ago.