Flash Fiction: You Should Be Reading

Dinner Time

"Jack?"

    The sound of my voice echoed in the metallic halls. Every step I took was a deafening fall on the wooden floor.

"Jack, enough games! Come out from hiding!"

    It was only suppose to be a quick game of hide and go seek in the old, rotten house. After the fun and games would be dinner with our family.

"I'm telling you, mother won't be happy if we come back late! Come out this instant!" I shouted through the creaking shelter.

    Somewhere near the main rotting staircase, a door opened slowly with a croak. Pale, sickly paint was peeling off the door, giving the illusion someone was scratching on it. I knew that couldn't be true.

    The wallpaper on the wall gave the musty odor as I walked by, churning my stomach. I finally reached the door, peering in to find a long, looming staircase going down into a dark basement.

"Jack?" I called down, almost quietly.

    I could hear some movement down there so I proceeded down, sure of myself my older brother was down there. It was awfully dark and hard to see when I made it down, the musty odor stronger than before. Joining that smell was a grotesque rotting smell. Something dripped nearby. A leaky pipe maybe?

"Where are you? I can't see a thing."

    I reached my small hands out as I walked, feeling the warmth of a body. A small smile crept onto my lips.

"Gotcha. Come on, it's dinner time," I said with a laugh and turned to go to the stairs.

    A light flickered on, illuminating the basement and revealing the untold horrors. Jack was hung on a hook through his neck, and his entire front side torn open with organs spilling out, blood dripping into a puddle below his body. A hot, sticky breath landed on the back of my neck, hairs and goosebumps rising.

"Gotcha. It's dinner time," it whispered with a growl before the old, rotted house concealed my screams.