Nightmare

I wrote this is flash fiction piece a few months ago. My short fiction tends to sway towards the "darker" side, and I think this piece kind of illustrates that. But out of those pieces of flash I've written, I'm the happiest with this as far as how it turned out.


I was going too fast, I knew that. My foot had the pedal pressed to the floor, but I couldn't get away fast enough. In the light of the headlights, I could see the dark pavement stretching out before me, and the trees rushing by in a blur on either side. Beyond the scope of the highlights, it was simply black.

I looked at B sitting in the passenger seat next to me. His body was rigid and he was staring straight ahead, though I doubt he saw anything. "Should we go back?" I asked him, already knowing the answer but dreading it just the same. He nodded once, and that was it. I brought the car to a screeching halt and pulled into a driveway to turn around. Once I was facing the way we had been coming from, I pressed the pedal back to the floor.

Too soon, we were back at that dreadful house. Ignoring the driveway, I brought the car through the front yard and stopped with my headlights shining on the door. There was no time for the driveway – he was in there with her. And as much as I wanted to turn and run again, I had to get her out of there.

I was out of the car in a flash, and I could only hope that B was following me as I ran for the front door. Before I reached it, though, R.T. came running out from the house. Him. I tried to run past him to get inside but he wouldn't let me.

He was shouting. "Stop!"

I fought against him, but it was no use. "What did you do to her?!" I screamed at him, punching his arms because I couldn't reach his face.

"It was an accident, I swear. I didn't mean to…" R.T. was still talking, but I didn't hear him.

Somehow, my arm came loose. I swung and got a lucky hit. It was enough – R.T. stumbled back and I wretched myself loose. As soon as I was free, I ran for the house. I vaguely heard R.T. shouting behind me, his voice muffled behind the hand cradling his jaw. I ignored him. I ran through the partially open front door, hearing it slam into the wall behind me. I froze. There she was, lying at the bottom of the stairs, her body in an inhuman tangle.

R.T. and B came in behind me, slowly. R.T. was saying something, probably to explain himself. But I didn't hear it – it didn't matter. It was too late.