Flash Fiction (Stories under 1000 words)

Undead Inside

Gnashing teeth. Muffled growls. Lights on. 

Peter Vanden watches as the creature pulls at its chains, hungry for the food that sits before it, behind thick glass. He immediately turns to Kaycee. “I thought I told you I wanted a male subject!”

“This was the freshest one we could find and capture.”

Peter sighs. And then proceeds to examine the thing. Her matted hair, rotting flesh, the ripped clothing that seems like they could have been pajamas once. Now this thing has no need for sleep. 

“The bite is on her arm,” Kaycee says. “Her predicted time of death is April 14, 3014.”

Peter moves closer to the glass. The thing becomes wild, pulling forward, opening and closing it’s mouth. He looks into the faded blue eyes. Nothing. Dead. And not just the creature. Peter can see nothing but yet another dead end coming out of this. And he falls asleep that night with the thought still in his head. 

The next day he begins his routine of regular testing. 5-2-4-8, he pounds into the electronic keyboard, and the heavy metal door opens with a hiss. Surprisingly enough, the creature stays relatively calm. Staring forward, gnashing its teeth, not even seeming to notice the young man. He nears it slowly, holding his clipboard tightly in hand. 

2 steps. No change.

3 steps. No change. 

1 more step to stand right in front of the monster. Still no reaction.

She looks right through him. She seems almost tired, but that would be silly. The things don’t feel fatigue. They don’t feel anything. 

Peter looks down for a moment to right down his findings, when her arms jolt out and grabs him. 

With inhuman strength she slams him on the back wall. His heart is a racing bullet, his breathes fast and hard. The thing’s rancid smell enters his nostril as she lifts her mouth to his ear. But instead of the tearing of his flesh, he hears a strained voice.

“Help...me.”

His breaths slow for a moment. Shock settles in. Then teeth sink into his shoulder. 

Peter awakes in a cold sweat. He immediately runs down the dark hallway to the testing room, and flicks on the lights to shine on his test subject. 

Nothing has changed. She is rowled up by his appearance, and pulls hard in an attempt to reach her prey. 

“Peter?” Kaycee enters the room, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. “What is it? Are there changes with the test subject.” 

“No,” he says. Still breathing heavily from the weight of the dream. But then he stops for a moment. He looks into the eyes of the subject, and this time, he see something.

Emotion. Weakness. Sadness.

Life.