A Flash Of The Dark Side

By Ruth Moratz

A collection of flash and short stories with a taste of the darker side of life.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ruth Moratz
• Release date: Oct 10, 2016
• ISBN: 9781536514919

Book preview

Table of Contents

  Scratches

  Gabriela

  Oh Them Toes

  The Basket Keeper

  Weekend, Interrupted

  Visiting Grandma

  An Eye For An....Ear?

  Memory House

Scratches

Picking over the last few expired cans of beans and moldy bread I sigh with the knowledge that the options will only be growing worse by the day. I see the other customers doing the same, looking over the few measly offerings while being careful not to make eye contact with anyone else. Everyone is afraid of seeing their own fear reflected in the faces of their neighbors and friends. Afraid that seeing the fear in others will make it real and we won’t be able to pretend it isn’t happening anymore.

I pull out my wallet as I head up to the register to pay for the handful of shriveled potatoes I found. My hand is noticeably shaking as I attempt to pull a bill out of my wallet making it hard to grasp, and it ends up fluttering to the ground. When I kneel down to pick the bill up, I see something white and shiny just under the counter. I scrunch down lower to see what it is and can’t believe my luck, it’s a candle. The electricity has been out for a week and we’ve all been living in darkness. I feel tears start to form when I grab it and feel the smooth wax against my palm. I stand back up and hand the money to Bill, the store owner. He gives me a half smile, and with a shake of his head he waves the money away. Printed paper doesn’t really mean much at this point. Bill’s mainly here to keep the peace, and prevent people from hoarding what’s left in the store. He puts the potatoes in a bag, but the candle I keep in my hand. It feels almost like a lifeline, and I can’t let it go.

As I walk home, I try not to look at anything but the road. I don’t want to see the empty houses, the scratches on the window panes or the bloody drag marks coming from them. It’s all so surreal, like a nightmare I can’t wake up from.

The Wilson’s lived on the upcoming corner, they were taken two nights ago. They were two of my best friends; I used to go over for dinner and cards. JC Wilson and I went to school together and played on the varsity football team. I make sure to avoid looking at the house and look in the opposite direction as I pass by. Two more blocks to go. The McMann’s house is coming up, they were taken last night. They tried to escape, and were caught before they even got halfway out of town. I don’t know why anyone tries, no one has ever made it and it just infuriates them. The screams of those caught trying to escape seem to go on twice as long as the ones taken from their homes.

I can’t help but glance at their house as I pass by, and immediately realize it was a mistake. The windows have deep scratches in them, gouges