Category: Fiction

A Lucky Break

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The bell rang. Straight away Tom’s tummy started to hurt. He subconsciously rubbed it, making tiny circles with the palm of his hand. As the other kids excitedly filed from the classroom, chatting about their lunchtime plans, Tom stayed seated, gazing out the window, wishing he could be anywhere but there. He hated lunchtime, it made him feel sick, for real.

Biting on a trembling lip he pushed out his chair with a large scrape. Waiting wouldn’t make any difference, it was going to happen no matter what he did. Might as well get it over with. He tried hard not to cry. No wonder everyone picked on him, he thought. Stupid cry-baby. He hugged his bag to his chest as he left the room.

He scuffed down the hall towards the door to the playground. He’d do anything not to go out there, but no one was allowed in the building at lunch, it was school rules, and he didn’t think the nurse would fall for another fake sickness. She got real mad at him last time.

Through the glass door at the end of the hall, Tom saw Garry, smirking. He was twice the size of Tom, probably because he always ate Tom’s lunch. It’s not that Garry beat Tom up, well not usually, he pushed Tom to the ground that one time when Tom tried to stand up to him like his dad told him to. It was worse than being beaten up though, they made fun of him. Garry and his friends called him Tom Thumb, because he was smaller than everyone else. They made chicken noises when Garry took his lunch, which was every single day. Tom hated them.

He looked at the floor and shuffled towards his destiny, sniffing back tears. He didn’t notice the garbage bin carelessly left in the middle of hall until he crashed right into it. He heard laughter as he flew through the air, before everything went black.
Tom lay on the couch his broken ankle propped on a pile of pillows, a PS4 controller in his hand.

“Well, I’ve called the school and told them you’ll be off for at least three weeks. They’ll send round some homework so you don’t fall behind.”

“Thanks mum,” Tom said, as he shot another zombie.

“Now, sweetheart, do you feel like you could eat a little lunch?” His mum pushed the hair gently out of Tom’s eyes.

“Yes please,” Tom said.

It felt like a year since he’d had lunch.

© Amy Hutton 2019

The Pledge

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Alec stepped carefully onto the creaking porch of the dilapidated house. He flicked on his flashlight, shining it on his face and turning towards the boys on the footpath, laughing at his good joke.

“You’re not getting out of it, Pledge,” one of the boys yelled.

Alec shrugged his shoulders as nonchalantly as possible. Turning back, he pushed open the heavy door, closing it behind him with a loud slam. He walked forward in to the dankness and shone the light around the broken-down room.

To be honest, he wished he’d said no to this stupid challenge. This place had always made his skin crawl. He knew the disappearances were only an urban legend, but fact or fiction, there was no denying his heart was beating pretty loud in his ears right now.

He couldn’t say no though, could he, not if he wanted to make the fraternity, and he really wanted to make the fraternity. He couldn’t believe they even accepted him as a Pledge, so he sure as shit wasn’t blowing it now. He had to do this, like it or not, if he wanted any kind of college existence. Basically, it was go into this creepy-ass house, or continuing being a nobody.

Alec took a steadying breath, he was determined to see this through. He pulled the paper out of his pocket and looked at the clue. Somewhere in here was what he was looking for, whatever that was. Something unexpected, was all they said. The room was all but empty, just a tatty chair and a few boxes strewn in the dust. He shone his torch into the blackness, spiderwebs glistening as the beam passed over them.

When he heard the noise, Alec was sure it was prank. He waited for Halloween decorations to drop from the ceiling, his future brothers to jump out laughing at his expense. He was so caught up in the scenario in his head, he didn’t notice the figure behind him.

As Alec lay strapped to the table, he could just make out another person in the room.

“Very funny, guys,” he said, hoping his shaky voice didn’t betray him.

“Shhhhhhhh,” was all that came back.

Alec felt fear bristle up his spine. “Come on, guys,” he said. “These things are starting to hurt.” He twisted against the ties on his arms and legs

Out of the shadows, a woman slowly stepped forward. Alec blinked hard, as light glinted off the edge of her knife.

“My boys brought me a pretty one this time,” she cooed, smiling sweetly as she gently passed the blade over Alec’s face.

As the shock of the cool metal pierced Alec’s heart, all he could think was, worst fraternity ever.

© Amy Hutton 2019

The Eternal Fear

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“Hey you!”

The guard’s call reverberated around the hospital walls, disturbing the silence in the otherwise empty halls. It was louder to William’s ears than it would have been for others, causing him to flinch, and he darted into the shadows, gliding soundlessly down a staircase before slipping through an unlocked door. He nearly laughed. He was in the mortuary. Sheet covered bodies on cold steel tables surrounded him. Their grey feet exposed. As icy as the metal they rested on. He heard the sound of urgent voices and saw the bouncing light of a torch approaching through the frosted window and searched for a place to hide. Stifling a laugh for the second time, he walked across the room and opened a square, shiny door, climbing into the narrow tube, and sealing it behind him.

He listened. His heart still. His breath hushed. After all these years, is this where it would end?

He remembered the first time he was hunted. It was a father and son. He had stolen their daughter; their sister. He had seen her under the moonlight and was instantly captivated by her beauty. Her hair golden, and her lips glossy with moisture. He had beckoned her to him. He had seduced her, and then changed her.

They fled together, hiding like animals in caves, sheltering in the dank gloom, and feeding on rats. But still her family came.

He remembered the moment the stake entered her body, and the agony he felt in his undead heart. He remembered the guttural howl seconds before her head was separated from her neck and how her pale skin turned leathery, and then to dust.

She was his first creation. There had been others since her, but it was only her destruction which pained him still.

He spent his eternity hiding in plain sight, feigning humanity. He even fell in love a long time ago. He was at first a sweetheart, then husband, then son, then grandson, as his face remained unchanged and hers grew wrinkled with age. When after sixty years together she died in his arms, he vowed he would never love again.

He pledged instead to live his endless existence causing no more harm. He picked his prey, the immoral, the criminal, the ones he decided didn’t deserve a life. He told himself that this was his debt to society. He told himself it was his repayment for all the innocents who had perished on his lips. But he knew it was just to quench his never-ending thirst. His conscience had died along with his soul.

Now, as he lay in the familiar darkness, he wondered, would it be so bad if his days finally came to an end? Surely three hundred and fifty-two years was enough. The only thing that made him continue to endure was the dread of the unknown that awaited him. “How ridiculous,” he thought, “That a vampire would fear the same thing as the living.”

Fear death.

© Amy Hutton 2020

The Song

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She held her breath as she waited for the music to begin. This song had come to mean so much to her. So much happiness, so much pain. It was love, it was friendship, it was crazy adventures. It was understanding. It was acceptance.

She knew its words like they were her mantra. The lyrics were tattooed on to her skin. She’d sung it at the top of her lungs, screaming out the chorus, arms slung about the shoulders of her besties, as the crowd swayed and chanted around her.

It was no longer just a song, it was an emotion, raw and powerful. It flooded her mind with images and flooded her heart with cherished memories.

As she sat there, holding the remote to her chest, leaning forward on her couch, her eyes fixed on the screen, tears already threatening to run down her cheeks, she whispered, “Here we go.”

The picture came up from black and music flooded her room…

Carry on my wayward son, there’ll be peace when you are done, lay your weary head to rest, don’t you cry no more.

© Amy Hutton 2019
The song lyrics Carry On Wayward Son is written by Kansas

The Pyre

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I watch as they place the wood carefully and add a flame, faces lit by the glow, as embers lift gently on the breeze and the smell of pine fills the air.

I feel the warmth on my skin as the fire grows, the two girls on either side of me wail and moan, drowning out the soft crackle of the wood.

The townspeople are on their knees praying to some god they believe allows this act of brutality.

As the flames reach around my body, I feel power swell in my gut. It won’t be long now.

I hear the girls beside me gurgle as they plead. The crackling of the wood now mixed with the sizzling of their skin. The stench rising amongst small sparks.

As I feel the ropes around my body burn and drop away, I slowly step down from my pyre and walk through the flames to stand before the prostrate mass, naked as my creator intended.

Imagine their shock as I lift my arms and call the fire behind me. It engulfs them before they even know what’s happened. Their words to their god becoming screams for mercy. Why do they look so surprised? Did not they think me a witch?

As I reach the forest, I feel the coolness caress my skin where their feeble flames were only moments earlier. I walk slowly towards town. There are more who will pay for tonight’s comedy.

© Amy Hutton 2019