New Attempt at Flash Fiction
I'm trying to switch genres for a while at least and want to write a thriller/mystery/crime kind of thing - the stories in my head so I figured I may as well write it but... being such a different style I thought I'd play around with some flash fiction to see if I can develop the necessary tension. So here's my latest attempt:
PAYBACK
For almost a year he had stalked her. Terrorized her with phone calls, notes, threats of incredible, extreme violence all interspersed with his declarations of undying love. She didn’t know who he was but it seemed he knew everything about her. She’d changed her phone number countless times, he always somehow found out the new one. She had even moved apartments but nothing, nothing she had done had stopped his continual harassment.
She had called the police only to be told that without a suspect there was nothing she or they could do; it was maddening, terrifying and driving her to the brink of insanity.
Now, in spite of all her precautions, in spite of everything she had done to try and keep herself safe, now he had her in his clutches. Under the cover of a violent thunderstorm on her very own doorstep he had taken her from behind; she’d been gagged, blindfolded and shoved into the back of a van and driven somewhere. Now he could do what he liked with her. From what little she could tell from her own body she seemed to be in a cabin, somewhere, tied to a bed that smelt filthy with body odour and other nameless smells. She could hear him moving around but he hadn’t spoken a word since he had captured her and she was utterly sightless from the blindfold.
Outside the thunderstorm still raged; the thunder louder than any sound she had ever heard in her life and the brilliant flashes of lightning doing nothing more than leaving spots before her eyes. Her heart was pounding and her thoughts racing. In TV shows they always told you to remain calm but how could she possibly remain calm with this man, this monster in the very same room. She could hear his ragged breathing whenever he came close to her; usually to run the razor sharp knife along some part of her body. The same knife he had used to cut her clothes from her, leaving her naked and vulnerable.
Then his foul body was on top of her, violating her, his disgustingly bad breath so close to her face she thought she would vomit. Thankfully it was over quickly but she knew this was only the beginning of her torment. He would not stop; nothing would stop him from abusing her in every possible way until he eventually decided to kill her. She knew this to be true, knew it in her very soul. Somehow she would have to find the strength to break his hold on her but how? She could not talk, could not try to make him see her as a human being, she could barely even move.
The rape and abuse went on for seemed to be a lifetime and then he decided she needed a bath. The irony of it almost made her laugh aloud, even if she could have gagged as she was, he so disgusting yet deciding that she needed a bath. It was the first time she had heard his voice and something about it seemed frighteningly recognizable but in her terror she could not identify what it was that struck her as familiar. Then she heard the sounds of the running water. When the bath was full he came back, untied her and guided her into the warm water.
His hands were everywhere as he washed her body clean, gentle hands that felt almost like a lover’s touch instead of the violent rapist of the past few hours. As he washed her he talked to her, telling her how beautiful she was, how much he loved her, how he only wanted to care for her. The abrupt change of persona was chilling but the more he talked the more convinced she became that she knew this man, knew him well. Fighting down her terror and the near overwhelming rage that was growing within her she tried to concentrate. Concentrate on his voice, tried to think of a way out of this nightmare.
Suddenly it came to her; it was her supervisor at work. He had been promoted to their department a little over a year ago and very quickly asked her on a date. She’d politely refused. This small man with the perpetually bad breath and glasses held absolutely no appeal to her; he had seemed to take her rejection with good grace but now she knew better. She also knew that she could overcome this man; he stood only a little taller than she was and was a skinny, ineffectual man. He had obviously relied on her not recognizing him and using her terror to prevent her fighting back.
She stood so abruptly she almost slipped in the soapy water but within seconds she had torn off the blindfold and removed the gag. Her actions had been so unexpected that he had simply sat there for a few seconds staring at her, his face a comic mixture of anger and dismay. Those few seconds though were more than enough. She ran to the bedroom and grabbed the long, sharp hunting knife. Now he was in her clutches. He came running to her to attempt to regain control. Her terror, her horrible feelings of violation, even her nakedness and shame drove her to a blinding rage. As he raced toward her she brought up the knife and thrust it deep into his chest; a feeling of almost intense satisfaction running through her as she felt his still warm blood from his dying heart flooding over her hand. As he lay dead at her feet she felt no guilt. It was payback for what he had done to her and he would now never be able to do it to anyone ever again.
Please let me know what you think - am I on the right track or should I just stick to what I know and do reasonably well at?
PAYBACK
For almost a year he had stalked her. Terrorized her with phone calls, notes, threats of incredible, extreme violence all interspersed with his declarations of undying love. She didn’t know who he was but it seemed he knew everything about her. She’d changed her phone number countless times, he always somehow found out the new one. She had even moved apartments but nothing, nothing she had done had stopped his continual harassment.
She had called the police only to be told that without a suspect there was nothing she or they could do; it was maddening, terrifying and driving her to the brink of insanity.
Now, in spite of all her precautions, in spite of everything she had done to try and keep herself safe, now he had her in his clutches. Under the cover of a violent thunderstorm on her very own doorstep he had taken her from behind; she’d been gagged, blindfolded and shoved into the back of a van and driven somewhere. Now he could do what he liked with her. From what little she could tell from her own body she seemed to be in a cabin, somewhere, tied to a bed that smelt filthy with body odour and other nameless smells. She could hear him moving around but he hadn’t spoken a word since he had captured her and she was utterly sightless from the blindfold.
Outside the thunderstorm still raged; the thunder louder than any sound she had ever heard in her life and the brilliant flashes of lightning doing nothing more than leaving spots before her eyes. Her heart was pounding and her thoughts racing. In TV shows they always told you to remain calm but how could she possibly remain calm with this man, this monster in the very same room. She could hear his ragged breathing whenever he came close to her; usually to run the razor sharp knife along some part of her body. The same knife he had used to cut her clothes from her, leaving her naked and vulnerable.
Then his foul body was on top of her, violating her, his disgustingly bad breath so close to her face she thought she would vomit. Thankfully it was over quickly but she knew this was only the beginning of her torment. He would not stop; nothing would stop him from abusing her in every possible way until he eventually decided to kill her. She knew this to be true, knew it in her very soul. Somehow she would have to find the strength to break his hold on her but how? She could not talk, could not try to make him see her as a human being, she could barely even move.
The rape and abuse went on for seemed to be a lifetime and then he decided she needed a bath. The irony of it almost made her laugh aloud, even if she could have gagged as she was, he so disgusting yet deciding that she needed a bath. It was the first time she had heard his voice and something about it seemed frighteningly recognizable but in her terror she could not identify what it was that struck her as familiar. Then she heard the sounds of the running water. When the bath was full he came back, untied her and guided her into the warm water.
His hands were everywhere as he washed her body clean, gentle hands that felt almost like a lover’s touch instead of the violent rapist of the past few hours. As he washed her he talked to her, telling her how beautiful she was, how much he loved her, how he only wanted to care for her. The abrupt change of persona was chilling but the more he talked the more convinced she became that she knew this man, knew him well. Fighting down her terror and the near overwhelming rage that was growing within her she tried to concentrate. Concentrate on his voice, tried to think of a way out of this nightmare.
Suddenly it came to her; it was her supervisor at work. He had been promoted to their department a little over a year ago and very quickly asked her on a date. She’d politely refused. This small man with the perpetually bad breath and glasses held absolutely no appeal to her; he had seemed to take her rejection with good grace but now she knew better. She also knew that she could overcome this man; he stood only a little taller than she was and was a skinny, ineffectual man. He had obviously relied on her not recognizing him and using her terror to prevent her fighting back.
She stood so abruptly she almost slipped in the soapy water but within seconds she had torn off the blindfold and removed the gag. Her actions had been so unexpected that he had simply sat there for a few seconds staring at her, his face a comic mixture of anger and dismay. Those few seconds though were more than enough. She ran to the bedroom and grabbed the long, sharp hunting knife. Now he was in her clutches. He came running to her to attempt to regain control. Her terror, her horrible feelings of violation, even her nakedness and shame drove her to a blinding rage. As he raced toward her she brought up the knife and thrust it deep into his chest; a feeling of almost intense satisfaction running through her as she felt his still warm blood from his dying heart flooding over her hand. As he lay dead at her feet she felt no guilt. It was payback for what he had done to her and he would now never be able to do it to anyone ever again.
Please let me know what you think - am I on the right track or should I just stick to what I know and do reasonably well at?
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