Taking a break from writing to do more...writing?

So it's been a while since I last posted. I've been getting caught up in life, work and the process of jotting down a new story. And while I'm stuck on chapter 8, a bit of flash fiction took a trip across my stalled-out mind. Maybe this'll help me out of the rut....enjoy!
     The sounds of fighting made him want to scream. A high-pitched hum filled his ears, setting his teeth on edge as he pulled himself along the floor. His useless legs trailed blood, the wounds in them sharp and bright. Digging his elbows and forearms into the tiles, every pull forced a half-bitten off scream from his lips.
     Somewhere safe, he thought. Need somewhere safe right the hell now.
     Gasping and sweating, he dragged himself into an empty room. He shoved the door shut, too drained to bother locking it. Hell, he couldn't reach the lock anyway from his pathetic position on the floor. His arms shook, his body sang with exhaustion as he propped himself into a sitting position against the far wall. A hospital bed hid him from view...unless you followed the twin tracks of blood smearing across the floor.
     Sucking in air, he looked down at his ravaged legs. Tears slid down his cheeks. God, they hurt.
     Then the door creaked open.
He closed his eyes.
     When he opened them, she stood at his feet, staring down at him with those impossible golden eyes.
     "Why do you keep running from me?" she asked.
Instead of answering, he pulled the gun from his jeans. She cocked her head at him, a dimple appearing as she smiled.
     "You know you're going to need more than the one bullet you have left to stop me."
     "I know," he replied, his voice shaking.
Then he jammed the gun in his mouth.
     She was suddenly on her knees beside him, one hand wrapped around his, bending his finger off the trigger. He fought weakly, whimpering as the gun was pulled from his blood-slippery hands.
     "Don't do this," he gasped. "Please don't..."
Her eyes wandered over his face. Her hand reached down to one of the wounds in his leg. The muscles twitched and he swallowed back a scream as she scraped a nail inside. He tried to twist away but she curled her other hand around the back of his neck. Pulling him close, he could only watch as she sucked the blood from her finger.
He pushed at her. "Don't..."
     "I would never hurt you," she said quietly. "Don't you know that by now?"
He wanted to shake his head but her fingers tightened on his neck. One side of her mouth quirked up in a parody of a smile.
     "Well," she said, reconsidering. "Except just this once."
He had no breath left to scream with.



  1. Great job. Love it!

    I have a short story about a female serial killer. I think she and your character would get along nicely :)

  2. Loved this, Melissa! Positively delicious. :D

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