Flash Fiction

Abuse
by Durga Devi d/o Kupusamy

(Theme: Personal and Familial Histories)

I woke up. Blood was gushing out of my head as I stood in front of my father. His hand holding a broken beer bottle, the edges dripping with warm blood. His eyes like burning coals, blazing with anger.

In the wink of an eye, all the sweet memories we had together turned into tragedy. Never would I have guessed that he detested me so. Since the day my mother died, my father became my enemy. My sworn enemy. 

I ran as fast as my legs could carry me to the kitchen. I caught a glimpse of the kitchen knife lying by the sink and without hesitation, I took hold of the gleaming blade and held it behind my back. 

I knew he was going to kill me. I had two choices: run away or stay. I believe I was strong, and so I chose to stay. 

In the end, I came out of my house, with blood on my hands.

I am free. 

(164 words)

The Hunted Vermin
by Deniola Prince Psalm Samillano

(Theme: Place, History and Storytelling)

It got increasingly vigorous — the wails from the throngs of violent men dressed in their rugged, torn rags. That night, they wailed with passion and animation from the depths of their hearts, and the sounds boomed within the four desecrated church walls, with their faces painted crimson red and flushed in demented anger. Hands flailed wildly, like a hall of conductors orchestrating a unanimous choir of death as they chanted upon the ill-fated. It was hard to breathe; the air stung with the stench of men standing shoulder to shoulder, where every boot is stained with mud and made dense from the constant spitting. 

“Herr Roste,” whispered a scrawny man, “I did not expect you to drive out of your way through this fogged rain just to stand in the mud amidst this mess!” 

“Yes, yes, do not mind my presence. I came curious. That is all. Now tell me, young man: why are these peasants excited, and about what?” 

“For the display, of course! Mind the smell, but there is this particular vermin in the centre, whose story, I figured, upset these men. It was shared by someone, after revealing that it hid in the bins among us, and it is no wonder that these men want to see the vermin for themselves and get a piece of it! Ha!” I tiptoed and could tell that the vermin wore the sash. The one with the yellow star. He continued, “Y’know, it is quite a sight I have never seen before. I do want to see it more often - it is not every day that one chances upon it.” 

Nowadays, the soldiers are best praised for their valiant efforts when, previously, they were regarded as violent and unnecessary. I saw a few in the herd of crying beasts. They wore a grey uniform. They were the ones handling the animal. Abruptly, one of them thrashed the display, kicking it in its rear and throwing it onto a chair — where it fell on its back and had the furniture broken into pieces. The crowd momentarily ceased its outcry, then, burst into childish laughter like drunkards in a bar upon the sight. 

I saw, by my side, my companion laughing as well. I surveyed the participants: A farmer in a half-torn overall, and a pitchfork pointing towards the animal; A sneering mother in a drenched dress, one arm carrying a naked baby, another holding onto a toddler; A scholar dressed in a fancy, though mud-stained, suit displaying a sign that read, “RID THE RODENTS OFF GERMANY”. They wore deformed, melted faces against the condemned. 

All walks of life must have hated this specific species of beast, and undoubtedly so.

However, one girl caught my eye. She was observing through the windows outside. She was not screaming, nor laughing, but instead had tears streaming down her face. She wore the same sash, but had blonde locks and azure eyes. I was puzzled… could it be that, that creature is human?

(500 words)