Flash Fiction

                      A small selection of short stories and flash fiction (restricted word count) that was written for various competitions.                                                                                                I am pleased to say these either won, or were very highly placed.

Through the Plasma


It’s not real, thought Fran.

It’s not.

She looked back over her shoulder to blank TV screen.


Why had she thought that she has seen something?

Fran had only worked here at the witches and warlock convention for three hours so far and already her nerves were rattled.

Maybe it was because fat guy in the too tight spandex ensemble had told her the story of the convention goers lost in the ‘ether’ by a spell gone wrong, forever to haunt the future conventions that took place in this building.


She didn’t think much more of it.

Until she saw the weird reflection in the plasma TV screen.

No, it must have been a trick of the light.

Fran took a deep breath and turned away from the door and continued to hand out the free samples she had been hired to do. People took them and smiled, asking a question here and there.

She had put the apparition completely out of her mind until something flickered in her peripheral vision an hour or so later.

Something moved, flickered, something, she knew it, she saw it, it had moved across the blank plasma screen that had been showing clips of the latest movies about to hit theatres.



There was something there.

She leaned in closer to look and gasped at what she saw.

It was an exact replica of the room she was in, and it was a horror exhibition, not a magic con. And people were there, looking in at her, as if she was a picture on the plasma TV they were watching.

As if she was the ghost and they were the ones observing her.

As if everyone at her convention was nothing more than an apparition on a blank plasma screen.

Convention of the Dead

“I can’t believe I let you talk me into coming here”

“Dude, you told me you used to go to these things all the time!” Matt turned to Sam. “You said they were fun”

“Yeah. When I was eight. I’ve since discovered that there is life outside of comics and movies”

Mat shrugged. “Well, whatever, man. I still paid a hundred bucks for us to get in here, and we’re getting our money’s worth whether you like it or not”

Sam sighed. He enjoyed horror movies, he did. Most of them, not the crappy stuff where you could see the monster’s zipper was showing. But these conventions? Everyone dressed like a Zombie? Seriously?

“Um, Sam?” Mat grabbed his friend’s arm. “Something weird going on here?”

“Yeah. Of course there is” Sam turned back to Matt with a grin. “We’re at a horror convention”

Matt’s suddenly dropped to the floor, pulling Sam with him.

“What the hell, dude?”

Mat’s face was white, his eyes round. “Get up. Get up now, and run. I’m not joking”

Sam frowned and twisted his head to look behind himself.

Another zombie.

Not a latex-suit-badly-prepared-homemade-blood-type-costumed zombie.

A real zombie. Chunks of sticky, rotting flesh falling from it as it lunged towards them.

Sam ripped Matt up with one huge lunge propelled them both towards a door as the screams of the living being attacked by a multitude of the undead assaulted their ears.

Sam slammed Matt through the door and tumbled after him, safe in the dark supply closet.

“I don’t understand. Dawn of the dead? Here? What happened?” Sam reached around, trying to find a light switch on the wall.

As the light flickered on Matt turned to face Sam, not seeing the zombie behind him as it lunged forward to bite into his flesh.

Series Finale

Lisa held Brent’s hand tight as they watched the final, scary episode of “The Death of the Living” She knew it was a corny TV show, but she loved it. Scared the living daylights out of her every time.

It was the whole reason she had come to this horror convention, to meet the stars, get a few photos, watch the final episode before it screened on television.

Brent hated all this stuff. Well, he said he did, but he always watched the show with her.

The final episode was set in a movie theatre, where the viewers had not yet realized that they were stuck in a time warp, doomed forever to watch the horror movie over and over, with no escape, no release. They were kept there until the creatures that had trapped them picked them off, one by one, without the other movie goers even realizing their companions had disappeared.

Like you wouldn’t figure out after ten hours that you’ve been watching the same movie, Lisa scoffed. It may be the last episode, but they were not going out with a bang. This sucked big time.

Seriously, every time the monster guys opened the theatre door a blinding flash of light came through and everyone was frozen until the door shut. Then, someone was missing, like the last girl, her husband didn’t even notice the seat beside him was suddenly empty; he just picked up his drink and kept watching.

What a load of hooey. She could have written this plot so much better herself, and the show would have finished on a high.

She sighed and picked up her handbag from the empty seat beside her and fished out a bag of peanut M & M’s. She wished she had not come to this thing alone.

The Hunger

It hungered.

It always hungered, but today was worse.

Today the hunger could not be put aside.

It could not turn over ad go back to sleep. The hunger was too insistent.

The hunger was calling, was screaming, and It needed to answer.

The hunger was right there, and It was being tempted.

For weeks now the temptation had tickled at It’s senses, calling the hunger, arousing It with warm tasty smells, but they were few and they could be resisted.

Today, though, today they were many. They called to It, they called to It’s hunger.

There were too many.

It yawned and uncoiled, stretching as It did so.

For many decades It had remained undisturbed, slumbering away the days, the odd little morsel here and there easy to pick off.

There was never more than a one or a two for It to feed on, and that was enough.

It had lain for so long that It’s name was all but forgotten, just whispered stories, myths and legends, none would believe and those that came looking never went back to tell.

Myths can be dangerous.

Myths had led the many here, to build, to clean, to decorate, to make ready a place for those that liked the stories of fear and horror to convene together.

A place that seemed to hold fear in its walls, mystery in its surrounds, and atmosphere perfect for those that came to this place.

They did not know It was here.

They did not realise that It lay nestled in the crawl spaces of the ancient building, sleeping, hiding, waiting, occasionally feeding.

They did not realise that their very numbers has awoken It, and now It would not return to sleep until It’s all consuming hunger was sated.

Until It had eaten them all.