Back in December, I took part in NYC Midnight's 250 Word Microfiction Challenge. Although I made it through the heat stage, I was unable to take part further. However, I am still very proud of what I produced, so I decided to share it here and hopefully draw people's attentions to how fun taking part in NYC Midnight's challenges can be.
For another entry I made in their Rhyming Story Challenge, click here!
The Scratcher
(Prompt: Ghost Story / Itching / Expect)
By Lee Rae
Seven minutes. Every seven minutes. He’d counted it on the car’s digital clock. Stood there. Unmoving. No. Not unmoving. A twitch, or actually, a scratch. The figure was scratching, just scratching, over and over, at the soft skin just below it’s ribcage on the left-hand side. The first time, he’d barely registered it, even two and three had only caught his eye. But as the road stretched on, unbelievably on, impossibly on, the visitor became like a road marker.
The shop. The bus stop. The shape. The crossroads. The shop. The bus. The shape. The crossroads. Over and over again. Hour one, he’d allowed himself to be confused. Hour two, he’d clung to hope. Now, hour unknown, fear comforted him. Comforted, because he knew any longer could only lead to madness. Next time, he’d be ready. He’d expect it. He’d slow down and be able to take a proper look.
But, scarier than anything, nothing. He peered over his shoulder at where the shape should be, stared long enough to miss the light and horn screaming from behind. And that’s when the spinning begin.
Propelled through the air, all he could see was the blur of lights and concrete and grass and trees. He watched as the car fell apart around him with each bounce. He watched as the metal shrapnel came spinning towards him, and, with deadly precision, cut straight through him. Right below the ribs. On the left-hand side.
And then he watched himself bleed.