100

The Goodbye

‘I’ll give you a minute,’ said the woman in white. She left the room.

Claire put her head down on the  steel bench. It smelt like hospital grade disinfectant and was cold enough to hurt her ear, but it was worth it to be close to him. Her cat. Her best friend.

His grey fur was a matted mess along his back, where he could no longer groom himself, and his eyes were sinking back in his head.

‘Smokey?’ she whispered. He was unresponsive. He had already given up.

She reached out and placed her hand on his tiny paw.

Leg

It was like no meat she had ever tasted. It was the same colour as veal, but with none of the sweetness, the melting mouth feel. She had paid half a million dollars for the privilege of her plate at this exclusive dinner party, but the Pièce de résistance was tough at best.

‘What cut did they say this was again?’ she whispered to the gentleman by her side, a Japanese tycoon.

‘I believe it is part of the leg,’ said the man.

She poked the meat with her fork. Men, she thought. They really do never fail to disappoint.

Hide and Seek

There was a sound, a loud banging at the bedroom door, as though someone was closing a car door in quick succession, over and over, and screaming, ‘Mary! Mary! Open up you fucking bitch!’

Mary didn’t open the door. She was too busy trying to hide her feet under the skirts of her long evening gowns. It was like hide and seek, only when she was a kid her nose wasn’t pissing out blood, and she wouldn’t end up dead if the seeker found her hiding place.

There was a sound, like the crash of a door being forced open.

Based On A True Story

I have nothing to write tonight, Melissah typed. She pressed enter and leaned back against her soft pillows while she stared at the blank word document.

In the background, her Adium window flashed. She clicked on it, bringing it to the front.

Write about me! Josh had written.

‘Yeah,’ she said out loud. ‘Because that worked last time.’

She typed: I can’t write about people.

He asked why; she didn’t tell him, opting to save herself some time but just writing a damn 100 word story about him.

But she really couldn’t write about people, and her 100 was lame.

Megadik

Mikey sat in a corner of his bedroom, surrounded by a moat of his own vomit and covered in Veronica’s blood. In fact, there was hardly a corner of the room that wasn’t smattered with gore or bile or pieces of torn entrails. The bed was the worst, of course. That was where Veronica – what was left of Veronica, lay on either side of the bed. She had been torn in two.

Between his legs, Mikey’s artificially enhanced member throbbed. It had ripped her apart, just as the spam message had claimed it would. His penis had killed Veronica.

The Hole

There was a hole in the face of the earth, eight feet across and endless. There had been no crash in the night, no bright lights, no suspicious sounds or sights or smells; just a hole where there had been no hole the night before.

Lou and Des peered down into the hole. Lou was shining a light down there, but they couldn’t see the end.

They were silent for such a long time, as though they were waiting for something.

Des broke the silence. ‘Nothing’s happening.’

‘Just wait. Cool stuff always comes out of these holes in the movies.’