Free Frightmares: A Fistful of Flash Fiction Horror by Unknown Page A

Thankfully, she was blessed with two wonderful and hard working parents who taught her what life is meant for and to follow her passions.

JUST LEAVE
     
    MILO JAMES FOWLER
     
    Abigail is only five years old, but she knows the rules:
    Don’t talk to strangers. Wash your hands. Brush your teeth.
    When Mommy and Daddy shut their door, best not to open it, no matter what sounds they may be making.
    “We need our playtime too,” Mommy says.
    “Why can’t I play?”
    Abigail has all kinds of toys.
    “When you’re all grown up, you’ll understand.”
    Abigail knows about “grown up toys;” Daddy’s stereo, Mommy’s laptop.
    Why would anybody think they’re fun? She knows the rules are meant to keep her safe and healthy.
    But they’re kind of tough to follow when two men she’s never seen before are sitting on her couch.
    “Hey pretty, what’s your name?” One man is big and bald and wears a sweaty T-shirt.
    He smells like Grandpa after he’s stepped outside for a few minutes; like a dirty fireplace.
    Abigail glances at Mommy, who is standing with her arms down straight, tears shining in her eyes.
    “Please, just go,” Mommy whispers.
    The strangers laugh. One belches without excusing himself.
    Daddy stands like a statue beside Mommy. His eyes are bloody, like he’s been staring at the computer too long.
    “Go back to your room, Abby.”
    “That’s a pretty name,” says the stranger.
    Daddy steps between her and the couch and rests his hand on her shoulder, turning her toward the hallway. “Just take it and go. Please.”
    “Pretty please?” The other stranger snickers, up on his feet. He punches Daddy so hard he falls to his knees.
    “Daddy!”
    Mommy scoops Abigail up into her arms and turns her face away. The strangers kick Daddy and step on him, smushing his face into the carpet.
    “He can’t breathe!” Abigail screams. “Mommy, why are they here?”
    “They’re buying one of Daddy’s old toys, Sweetheart.” Mommy’s wet lips shiver, brushing her ear.
    “Gotta love Craigslist!” A stranger sits on Daddy, hopping up and down. Something inside Daddy pops. The strangers laugh.
    “They’re hurting him!”
    “Don’t watch,” Mommy whispers.
    “Take what you want . . . and go,” Daddy says.
    The stranger kicks him in the face and blood splashes onto the carpet. “Don’t you worry.” He laughs. “We’ll take everything we want.”
    Abigail knows the rules. Always use your inside voice, never hit or kick or scratch Mommy.
    But Daddy needs her.
    Mommy can’t hold onto her. Abigail is screaming wildly, thrashing like an animal. She hits the carpet and launches herself at the man on top of Daddy. He laughs, catching her in his arms.
    “Quiet down, Pretty!”
    Abigail has little monkey fingers—that’s what Daddy calls them—and fingernails that need trimming.
    She tears off the big man’s eyelids and digs out his eyes, squishy and wet. He beats at her with his fists and she feels things pop inside her.
    “Leave my daddy alone!”
    She drives her hands into his eye sockets as he falls over backward. She hears Daddy coughing, Mommy throwing up. The front door opens and heavy footsteps pound away.
    Up to her elbows in blood, Abigail roars, breaking all the rules.
    Milo James Fowler is a teacher by day, writer by night. His work has appeared or is forthcoming in over 30 publications, including Daily Science Fiction, Shimmer, and Criminal Element . You can find more information at http://www.milo-inmediasres.com..

LOBOTOMY
     
    PEDRO INIGUEZ
     
    Renzo Zapata lay in a dimly lit room, strapped to a crude operating table. They’dbe coming for him soon; the Skin-Slitters, the Bone-Grinders, the Brain-Eaters . . .
    He’d been sent here to get better. Family and friends; the police, and judges all agreed; Renzo was special . . . not crazy; they never used words like that, no matter how much his actions might warrant it.
    Footsteps echoed through the cramped hallways of Bloom Memorial