A spine-tingling collection of bloodcurdling microfiction inspired by the "30 Days of Spooky Tales" prompts offered up by the @adultfiction, @ChickLit, @MicroBytes and @Paranormal profiles.
This is the story about how I died. Don't worry, though! I came back.
I suppose you're full of questions—the how, the when, the where, the yadda yadda yadda—or you'd have hung up already. You always used to have all the answers, but not this time, eh, Shell? Or perhaps you're still on the line because you're worried my next call will be to the police... or maybe you're wondering if I called 'em already and they're on their way to pick you up now.
Wow, silence. Things really have changed, haven't they? And I only had to die for it to happen.
You can relax—I haven't called the police. I mean, you didn't know he'd do that to me, did you? You didn't know he was like that? Because you sold it to me like you were helping your good old girlfriend out by setting me up on a blind date with Matt; it'd been a while since Tim and you just thought you were doing me a favour by getting me back in the game. An airtight story like that'd stand up in court!
My side of it is pretty straightforward. I got spruced up—without overdoing it, of course—and went with your recommendation for my outfit. "Show him a bitta leg", I remember you saying. "It'll do no harm." Well, Shell, it did plenty of harm! Because after some bumbling compliment about my eyes being like diamonds from the heavens, doctor Matt, who you'd talked up as being A Good Thing for me, smashed an Epipen looking doodad into my thigh and it was goodnight Vienna.
Did my death bring you success, Shell? I hope it did, truly.
You know what? We should catch up in person—that'd be fab, wouldn't it? Because, like, I need to get out of here soon. It's just so boring being cooped up in the one place. The more I get my strength back, the hungrier I am. Mum always said to feed a cold and starve a fever, but what kind of fever gives you cravings? Baby fever? Hah, no, he didn't infect me with a child, you can nip that little idea right in the bud, sweetie! I'm not craving something daft like broccoli and marmalade.
...I just want to meet up and open your skull. Just a wee crack.
It'd be so nice to have a sip of that pinky grey stuff.
There's nothing I crave more, Shell. Did you know this would come home to roost or did he tell you I'd be gone for good?
It hardly matters now.
After you, when I build my strength enough, I'll go to the others. I'm not the only one—Doctor Matt has been a busy boy—I feel them pulsing, I know they are out there, they hide everywhere. And we are hungry, Shell. Oh, so hungry!
I think this could be the start of something big for me, I think I'm going viral.
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