A Collection of Short Fiction

Sometimes I write short stories. Here’s a brief glance.

In the Bedroom

I can’t hear what they’re saying, but it doesn’t really matter. I snuck up to my bedroom when they started yelling at each other and hid in the closet with Rusty. But daddy knows all my hiding spots. And I can’t see the doorknob from the closet. I need to see the doorknob. Because as long as I am using all my power to keep it locked then I’ll be safe but it’s really hard. When I blink I lose all my power and that’s when daddy comes in. So I’m working really hard to not blink and Rusty is trying to help but he doesn’t have special powers like me.

The pins and needles in my arm really hurt but I have to concentrate on keeping the door locked so I can’t move yet.

Last time daddy came in when I was already sleeping and he sat on my bed and told me not to be scared because him and mommy were only pretend fighting and that he would never want me to be hurt or afraid. But I know he was lying. I’m not stupid. He pulled my blankets off and started rubbing my back. But I didn’t want him to and I started crying, just like I’m crying now.

I wish Rusty could cry instead of me because I just had to blink to get the wet out of my eyes, and now daddy is standing in the doorway.

 

Flirting

“You’re so nice, I can see you getting raped.”

I giggled. Why did I giggle?

“I mean, not in a bad way. You know, you’re just so nice you probably wouldn’t tell a guy, ‘No.’”

She choked on a scream as hot tears splashed into the soapy water.

“I know how to say ‘No.’”

She scrubbed harder on the soiled cotton.

“Yeah. I’m just saying. Like it’s a good thing, you know.”

Shame.

“A good thing to be raped?”

Apprehension.

“No. No. No. A good thing to be nice. Like, you wouldn’t be a bitch and reject a guy.”

 

Fuck Me

“Fuck me!”

“Please. No.”

“FUCK ME!”

He raged as she tried to fend off his blows, tried in vain to escape.

Violence.

 

“Fuck me.”

No more than a whisper.

“Fuck me.” She breathed again, eyes dilating as she embraced the weight of his frame.

Ecstasy.

 

“Fuck me? Fuck you. Fuck you, you whore.”

Betrayal.

 

“Fuck me.”

He realized his mistake.

“Fuck me.”

The irreparable harm he’d caused.

“Fuck me.”

His fingers interlaced with the trigger.

Despair.

 

“Fuck me,” he uttered.

Distracted and jaded I volleyed tepidly, “It worked?”

Silence.

I turned to look. “Fuck me.”

Vindication.

 

us v them

The sky is blue today. Maybe tomorrow they’ll let us go outside.

They showed us a movie yesterday, but it made Patricia cry. So they turned it off.

They changed the night routine. We can’t close our doors. The hall lights are bright. No one sleeps anymore.

Patricia killed herself. I haven’t gone outside yet.

Mike wants to escape. I don’t see how. They are always watching. What do they want from us?

It’s like living in a petri dish. I wish they would just tell us what to do so we could get out of here. Mike says we’re the only ones left. He says they killed all the others. He says the black clouds are smoke from all the burning bodies. I think he’s right.

They moved us all into one big room. There’s no privacy. Do you think Ben is still out there? I miss having a brother.

Mike is gone.

They tried to tell me something. I couldn’t understand them. They didn’t use words. They wanted to show me. I wasn’t scared. I saw. But I didn’t understand.

 


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