A flash fiction short story
The story I’m sharing tonight was my entry for the second round in the NYC Midnight Scary Story contest. I didn’t advance to the finals and I’m a choosing to look on that as okay news as this means I now have the weekend free to work on the novel that I’ve started.
I received some good feedback from the judges, and I considered whether I wanted to go in and re-work the story to submit somewhere. But I then decided that it would just be one way of putting off the hard work of novel writing.
The prompts for this story were: burial, skipping a meal, and a couponer. I do love the prompt based writing contests, as they are always a challenge to creativity. And now, here is the story in all its unedited glory. Enjoy! (or not – this one’s a bit dark)
Die Hungry
The line of people wound through the cemetery. At the edge of the graveyard, a backhoe idled. Hayla shuffled forward, clasping her vouchers. Armed guards strode beside them, like wolves stalking prey.
“It’s fine weather for Parting Day,” the bearded man in front of her said. He grinned, revealing rotten teeth.
Shrinking back, Hayla nodded. Was this his mandatory age of disposition? She had signed up on her fiftieth birthday, five years early, to gift the unused time to her daughter.
The man leaned close enough she could smell the onion stink of his body odor. “I heard they don’t embalm or cremate folks so they can test whether the virus is still around.”
“Don’t care,” Hayla said. “Better to be buried with a full stomach than die hungry and rise as a ghoul.”
“You think this is enough?” The man held a single orange ticket, the color of the free government vouchers. Hayla had five meal coupons, one in each color, collected in preparation for today. A full digestive system halted the disease.
She turned, eager to glimpse the feast table. The scent of roasted chicken drifted through the air. Her stomach rumbled. She shouldn’t have fasted yesterday, but she wanted to gorge today. She swallowed, her mouth slick with saliva.
“Get back!” One of the armed men shouted. Across from the queue, a dozen people, men and women, fought against the ropes binding them. The unfed. Hayla shivered. Buried under concrete, unable to claw your way out. The group struggled toward the feast line.
“Go!” A guard pushed Hayla into the bearded man.
Screaming, the bound group surged into the queue. Hayla tripped, falling hard on her side. A large man landed on her, crushing her breath. She rolled, pushing the man away.
Gunfire thundered, bullets thudding into victims. Hayla crawled across the grass, shuddering as people fell wailing around her. Within seconds it was over. Hayla staggered to her feet. She ran trembling hands down her body. Her meal coupons were gone.
She grabbed a guard. “I’ve lost my tickets!”
“Sure. And I’m the pope.” He pulled her toward a pile of bodies.
A bulldozer roared, scooping up the fallen. The guard raised his gun.
Hayla woke, lying cold in absolute darkness. Something soft and wet pressed her cheek. Someone moaned. She grasped their arm and pulled it to her mouth. Hungry. She was so hungry.
Let's Get Out of Here 