Spooktoberfest 2015-LOST IN A NIGHTMARE

Hey all! This is my third year participating in Spooktoberfest, a flash fiction contest and blog-hop sponsored by two of my favoristest bloggers, Dani Bertrand and Jackie Felger and the blog they co-author together Cover Girls.  

They’re switching it up this year using Scattergories, so it’s far more challenging for me than previous years.  Look what I’ve come up with.

These are my words in Scattergory order, and my piece is 397 words.

Hyena, pantsuit, Leticia, Spiced pumpkin latte, Welcome to my Nightmare, dog, pureed monkey placenta, motorcycle, pocket watch, sapphire, Red Hots and Reese’s Pieces, eel, Band-Aids and peroxide.

 

LOST IN A NIGHTMARE

Crap. I’m lost. Why can’t my motorcycle have GPS? I sip my spiced pumpkin latte as I ponder my next move. I pull my sapphire encrusted pocket watch from my pantsuit and glance at it. It’s almost midnight. My brother will kill me if I miss his Halloween party again.

I hop back on the bike and make a U-turn. As I approach the traffic light, I see shadows forming on the road. Reminds me of a scene from ‘Ghost’. Creepy. A chill goes up my spine, but I ignore it and focus on the light. Before I can utter a sound, I’m yanked off the bike and dragged down the street, pocket watch flying. I see nothing. I hear the cackling of what sounds like hyenas in the distance.

Then I’m dropping into water. The fall feels everlasting; it’s no more than a few feet. I panic. The water is inky black but there’s land ahead of me. I see a fire. My arms thrash in the water fighting an unknown predator. I pull out an eel. I shriek and run towards shore. I make it, though I have cuts on my feet.

A woman in a green cape approaches me and whispers, “You’re perfect. I have Band-Aids by the fire for your cuts. I’d hate to become infected during transit.”

“I don’t understand.”

“My name is Leticia. You are perfect for transporting me back to the upper realm. Eat this.” She holds out a bowl. “I made it myself. It’s pureed monkey placenta mixed with peroxide. It makes spirit transfer less painful.”

“No. Who are you?”

“It isn’t a request.” She shoves me the bowl. “Eat! I only have until midnight. You’ll know soon enough.”

I try to swallow the lump in my throat; this can’t be it. I take the bowl with my right hand and punch her in the face with my left. She goes down, whatever or whoever she is.

The next thing I hear is Welcome to My Nightmare, and my brother Alex shaking my shoulders. “You had a nightmare, you’re drunk, and you just punched me in the face! Last time I invite you over for Halloween!

He snatches a box of Red Hots out of the candy bucket and storms out of the living room. I snuggle with my dog Sophie. At least he didn’t take the Reese’s Pieces.