Worthing Flash

We were sprawled on the hospital bed, counting all the dead people we had kissed. “My teenage boyfriend, the one who killed himself.” “The tennis-player in college. Those shorts!” “How about the boy across the street? His sister was so appalled I had touched her precious brother. She’s dead now, too. At least I never kissed her.” “Well I did. Summer of Love Redux, baby!”  She loved to say stuff for shock value and as usual my startle reflex made her laugh. “Well, aren’t you the judgey one,” she said. The doctor came in, his stethoscope dangling.  “I bet he’s going to Halloween as a doc-tah,” she stage-whispered behind her bruised hand. He smiled and pulled the curtain around her and once again I was on the outside. “This will take a while, she called through the fabric. “Bring me back something Halloween-y. We’ll trick-or-treat the ward!” To spend her bit of remaining time being monitored like that─ what good did it do? She was going as fast as she could. I took the

by Marcelo Medone “ Tell me if it was you or your brother, Betsy: it's very serious matter. The strawberries were for Grandmother Lola's birthday cake.” The woman points to the mess in the kitchen, with traces of strawberries staining the floor and the counter. “ It wasn’t me, Mum, I swear.” Betsy makes a contrite face and sighs. “ And where's Timmy?” “ He left home. He hasn't come back yet.” “ Weren't you going to ask for sweets together?” “ Timmy says I'm too young to go with him. That I am a nuisance. That Halloween isn't for little four-year-old girls like me. That's why he left without me.” “ So, did you see him?” Absolute silence. Betsy bites her lower lip. “ Did you see your brother?” Betsy looks at her mother and realizes she can't lie to her. She swallows and musters up the courage to speak. “ Kevin came to get him earlier. They were the ones who ate the strawberries. Kevin must have eaten strawberries at ho

Josh didn't believe in ghosts, so he fearlessly set out to explore the haunted castle ruins. Nothing happened until he came across a female phantom in one of the tunnels. - A white lady - he muttered. - Anyone, but no lady. He turned on his heel and fled. He reached the door and tugged on the handle. It was locked... The phantom was right behind him. - Relax, you don't have to open it for me - she announced. - I advocate equality, and can easily penetrate matter. - AAAAA! - shouted terrified. - And you don't have to fear me. I'm just a hologram in your game. Christopher T. Dabrowski We have had a number of stories for Halloween. They are all worth reading!

Mother Halloween Camp is awful. No one likes me and they're all horrible, anyway. Dad's old RAF sleeping bag is enormous. I look more like Sherpa Tensing than a 12-year-old. Sometimes I think you must hate me. Also, that bite I received from the huge red centipede has taken root. This morning I woke up really early and found myself outside the tent. I must've wriggled outside during the night. Please collect me at 4pm by the woods. My shiny forcipules keep twitching and I'm worried I might start biting soon. Biting parents doesn't count. Regards Pinky   by Sukie Shinn

Revenant. Yesterday, I found out that Gibbs' Emporium, up on High Wynd, in the town, our only decent shop, with its beautiful curvaceous facade and art deco windows, was closing at Christmas. Not that I live there any longer. I left to spend a year in France as an au pair in my late teens, studied in Paris, and only now go back for holidays, but as soon as I read that news on Facebook, I felt something fall in me, a sudden lack, and a growing grief. What is a ghost, I asked my mother, when I was eight. My deeply religious mother. She wasn't happy with the word ghost, but conceded that there might be spirits. Perhaps they had left something undone on this earth, and had come back, fruitlessly searching for a way of making amends for a sin of omission. I stayed awake that night, trying to lay my own ghost, wandering the basement, and the three upper floo

Grandad, what are you doing with the laptop? Making a book Won't your fingers get tired? I'm going to use a mouse. How can his tiny paws press those huge keys? This is an audiobook of short stories (flash fiction) for your entertainment. Postage is free in the UK. It also makes an excellent gift. Buy one of these and you are giving money to Alzheimer's research. Click here Equally, you can write your own flash fiction in under 1000 words and email it to worthinglfash@gmail.com Join the 100 writers for #worthingflash and be read by our 100,000 readers.