Vanessa Wismer
Flash Fiction Untitled
4AM: Theres this place that I go when I’m alone. I know I’m awake and conscious, but I have no control over my body. An everlasting force making me do things I don’t want to do and places I don’t want to go. It feels like a hand with a tight grip on my back pushing me to these places, then taking a hold of my hands and forcing me to do bad things. 7AM: I blackout. 11AM: I wake up in my bed not knowing what had happened from a few hours ago. I’m covered in blood; my clothes are crimson red, my hair is drenched, and there is a foul smell. “Is this my blood?” I asked myself. I check to see if there are any wounds, cuts, anything. Nothing. “ If this isn't my blood, then who’s blood is it?” is the question I’ve been asking my self for several weeks now.
I go out to the place I go every night I’m alone and hear voices. The difference now is I’m fully awake and aware of everything. The voice is chilling and soft. It yells when I don’t listen to its commands. It says to me, “Kill again!” I cover my eyes and shake my head, “No, No!” The voices get angrier and angrier “KILL”, it screams. I cringe and my whole body starts to shake. “No!” I tell it as I start to run. I run into the woods and try to get as far as possible and hide. I trip in a ditch
That’s when the ripping starts. Skin splits from my crown to my heels and bones pop like knuckles, only louder. Excruciating pain explodes across my vision and as soon as it starts, it’s over. My hands are paws and my nails are claws. I stand up, but my spine is curved. Out of exhaustion, I slump down onto all fours. I throw my head back and howl. All of a sudden, my yellow eyes zero in on a thug mugging a teenage girl in an alley across the street from the woods. My instincts tell me to go check it out. I creep over, and this poor girl is screaming on the top of her lungs. This man is punching and kicking her. Once I’ve had enough of looking at horrible scene, I run over just in...