Cherish Dean was the winner of our 2019 Spooktacular Flash Fiction Writing Contest.
It was a picturesque day when Natalie carried groceries into her suburban family home.
Red heels clicked across polished wood floors. Skirt swished with each step. “Honeyyyy,” she called, “I’m home!”
Nobody sat back in the recliner or dented the loveseat’s cushions as she passed through the living room though; no TV droned about this politician or that war; no rambunctious children dashed around.
She studied the room more carefully. It seemed out of focus.
“Honey…”
Her husband appeared suddenly wearing one of her frilled aprons and a crooked smile.
“I thought I’d attempt dinner tonight. You always do so much darling!”
“Oh,” she purred, “aren’t you special?”
In the kitchen, a pot of water boiled awaiting pasta.
Natalie smiled at him. She smiled at him and started to ask about the kids. She smiled at him and–
The movie ended, tape running out-
Record skipped, scratching across the end-
Radio static-
Abrupt.
Uneven.
Unwanted.
Natalie opened her eyes to bright lights and white lab coats, electrodes and IVs. She surged against restraints and was slammed back down.
With terrible clarity, she knew exactly where her children were. Buried beneath radioactive dust with her husband.
“No,” she whined, “no, no, no. Put me back.”
She surged against her restraints again. “PUT ME BACK.”
A needle pierced her shoulder.
…
It was a picturesque day when Natalie carried groceries into her suburban family home.
Red heels clicked across polished wood floors. Skirt swished with each step. “Honeyyyy,” she called, “I’m home!”