The challenge is to write a flash fiction in 200 words or less beginning with “Shadows crept across the wall.” There was extra credit to include the word orange, end with “everything faded”, and to use exactly 200 words.
Here’s my story!
Shadow Ghosts by Claire L. Fishback (c) 2012
Shadows crept across the wall. The same shadows I’ve seen every night since we moved into this old dump of a house. I haven’t slept for a week.
In the beginning, I tried to convince myself they were nothing. A trick of the eyes in the silent blackness filling my room. I closed my eyes, and knew better, for I no longer see the shadows slipping along the wall and disappearing into the dark corners of the room. Instead, I see the shadows’ faces.
The female frightens me the most. She has a round, purple face. It’s as if she’s held her breath far too long and her skin craves the oxygen she denies herself. Her hair is a mess of greasy tangles. Her eyes are bloodshot. I can smell her, too. That hot, oily smell a terminally ill person exudes. Sweat and inner decay.
The male has an orange moustache. The way he looks at me forces my eyes to stay open.
I watch their shadows drift across the wall and I wonder if I’ll ever get some sleep. I close my eyes.
The female holds a knife above me.
The male licks his lips.