She watches the laundry spinning round and round. The machine shakes slightly and there is a loud thumping as something heavy falls to the bottom of the washer once it spins to the top and gravity does it's work. Over and over again. At about the 32nd thunk she notices pink spreading across her whites. She watches curiously. When the majority of them have turned pink it suddenly kicks into a faster spin cycle.
The washer is shaking like crazy at this point, but she doesn't move to stop and rebalance it. The pink quickly turns red and the color is all she can see through the plastic window. Eventually the washer seems to balance itself out. The red lightens slightly as it spins out liquid. When the faster spin cycle stops, it just stops completely and there's one last thunk as the heavy object hits the bottom again. The sheets in the washer fluff out again as it starts to gently spin once again, but not nearly as much as they would normally and they are definitely no longer white, mostly pink with splotches of red. It slowly comes to a stop again and a little melody tinkles out signaling that it has finished.
Finally she sits up and leans forward, popping open the washer, it smells metallic yet floral. She pulls out the laundry, it is heavy and drips excess fluids, apparently having not drained enough. She considers putting it back in for another spin cycle but decides to just put it in the dryer on high heat.
She stuffs them in and clicks the door shut. Adjusting the settings and hitting start. It immediately starts clunking. The dryer doesn't have a window for her viewing pleasure so she decides to tidy up the house while it turns, she bobs her head to the rhythm of the thunking as she cleans.
Her house starts to smell like a roast cooking in a slow cooker. Every time the dryer sings it's little jingle she goes into the washroom and restarts the dryer. After about the 8th time she opens it, taking out the bundle of clothes now all stained a rusty brown color. She unwraps it, discarding a sock or a pair of tighty not so whiteys here and there to reveal what at first looks like a hunk of now cooked meat, but once she gets it completely unwrapped it turns out to be an infant child. Her child. Her baby.
She feasts upon its flesh, not even stopping when she gets past the thin cooked layer to the raw center. She cleans its bones and then lays them in its cradle for its father to find when he finally comes home late from staying out all day to cheat on her.
He deserves this she thinks to herself as she crawls into bed and sleeps.
YOU ARE READING
Flash Fiction
Short StoryVarious stories of relatively short length (under 1000 words). I tend to write more Horror than anything, but honestly we will see where this goes. Each chapter will be a different story. I've no idea how long I'll let it go or how often I'll update...
