Flash Fiction – Rat boy

Marg, the Auditor General, dropped the last of her files into her case. “Are you coming?”

Sandy looked up from the ledger she was concentrating on. “No, you go, I really want to get this entered so I can enjoy a long weekend.”

“Ok but that means you’ll be the last one here.” Marg gave her a devilish grin.

Sandy sniffed, “Yeah so?”

“Aren’t you afraid of the Rat Boy?”

“Urban legend!” Sandy laughed, she’d heard the tales of the Rat Boy that lurked under the Music Conservatory. It grew more ridiculous with each telling. “Go,” she waved Marg off.

“Suit yourself, the main doors will lock behind you, so make damn sure you have your cars keys, cause I’m not coming back for your ass.”

“Thanks for the warning.”


Two hours later Sandy set down her pen, stretched and yawned. “Thank God this job is over.” She closed the ledger and gathered up her purse. Now she could rest for two full days before going to the next Audit job. She picked up her briefcase, purse, and coat, checking that ‘yes’ her keys were in her purse pocket.

As Sandy turned off the lights to the boardroom, she realized that the lights in the concert hall were also off. She contemplated turning the light back on and propping the door open, then shook her head. “Don’t be silly Sandy.” She let the door close behind her and waited for her eyes to adjust.

The room before her was 100ft deep with rectangular windows 40ft up. As her eyes became accustomed to the low light, she could now see the main doors at the end, they too had small windows.

Sandy focused on her exit. She kept her head high, back straight, and walked calmly. The stories of Rat Boy entering her mind. The last supposed victim a young musician who stayed late one night, only to never be seen again. The thought of being dragged down into the sewers by a giant rat gnawed at her mind.

Sandy felt a stray thread tickle her calve and she twitched her leg to make it stop. Then a damp fur smell reached her nose and goose bumps broke across her arms. The tickle came again, now on her ankle. Sandy’s insides turned to jelly as “Rat Boy” crossed her mind.

            That’s his tale, she thought and clenched her jaw. Don’t turn around, keep going. The door was ten feet away.  She sped up, her heels loud on the marble floor. Now it sounded like sharp claws clicking behind her. Sandy broke into a cold sweat, dropped her briefcase, and ran. She flung herself against the metal bar on the door, falling out into the empty night.

The door slammed behind her. She turned to look, there was a pale gray face, with beady red eyes in the window. Heart pounding wildly Sandy laughed, no matter, she was out.

Then she noticed her purse was no longer on her shoulder.






           Terri swore silently, her co-worker just called in sick. She’d closed the store alone before. I can do it again

“Coming,” Terri called out to the couple looking at rings.

She was wrapping up the sale when a red-haired girl came out from the staffroom. Terri frowned. The girl wore a thin gray sweater, her shoulders were hunched, and she held her arms across her chest.

“Thanks, come again.” Terri then turned to ask the girl what she was doing but didn’t get the chance.

The girl dipped her head shyly. “Hi, I’m Amelia West.”

“So, Todd hired you and neglected to tell me huh?” She held out her hand. “I’m Terri.” The girl’s touch was gentle and cold. Terri released her hand uncomfortably. “Well it’s usually busy on Friday nights, so here,” she gave Amelia some keys, “show people the jewelry and if anyone wants to buy, I’ll help.”

The night got busy, as Terri predicted and she assisted her customers while keeping one eye on the quiet girl. At 8:45 they had a lull. Amelia stood hunched near Terri. “What’s your tattoo?”

“The clocks from artist Escher.” Terri could tell that Amelia was clueless. “Google him sometime, you’ll like his stuff.”

Amelia grinned, her blue eyes unblinking, holding her arms across her chest again.

Terri shivered and took a step away. “Do you have any tattoos?”

Amelia’s smile grew wider, she moved her hair aside, and exposed her shoulder.

Terri pulled the girl’s shirt down to see the tattoo, a large Parrot. “That’s beautiful, you need a tan.”  She adjusted Amelia’s shirt back and felt how cold her skin was and shivered.

Abruptly Amelia turned, walked to the front door, and clicked the deadbolt.

Terri was about to say, you can’t do that yet when a man dressed in black appeared. His face was hidden in the shadows of his hoody. He yanked at the locked door. It rattled against the frame, and Terri took two steps back, while Amelia stood watching him. His head moved closer to the window, he peered in, then just walked away.

“Creepy! Good thing you locked the door early.”

Amelia hadn’t moved, nodded, and stared out the door.

Terri went into the staff room to retrieve her coat, when she came back out, Amelia was gone. Terri shook her head, strange girl.  Her boyfriend pulled up, and she left for the night.


“Morning Todd.” Terri greeted her boss. “I met Amelia last night. A bit kooky, but nice.”

“You met who?”

“Amelia West. Young, pale, red hair.”

“If this is your idea of a joke Terri, I’m not laughing.”

“Why on earth would I joke about hiring a new girl?”

“Amelia West worked here eight years ago, and was stabbed to death just inside the door,” his eyes flashed to the front. “They never caught the guy.”

Terri froze, recalling the cold porcelain skin. Ghost girl may have saved her life.


*In Memory of Amber Wise. 1994 -2017 R.I.P

Flash Fiction Horror – Wife ‘N Death

Anthology; Read Three Other Authors Free Here Too….



Wife N’ Death

People continue to file into the yard, as I stay hidden safely behind the curtained window. Glass crunches loudly beneath my high heels. My feet are now beginning to ache; I’ve been in them since 9 am. I part the gold-embossed curtain, feeling its silky smoothness cool upon my hot fingers. Peeking out, I see the neighbors crowding into my yard. They are jostling each other, stepping on my pansies and roses, wrecking it all.

What is wrong with these people? Do they think death eludes them?

Voices drift through the glass pane; I can hear all the inquisitive tones, but not the words. I let the curtain fall back to its natural folds. I move over the glass, and it crunches like eggshells. I look down at the once delicate glass rose that is now just colored remnants and sigh. Now is not the time for remorse over shattered things; I have bigger fish to fry.

As I walk through the dim room, I move around the tables and chairs easily; the layout is forever etched in my mind. Well… forever isn’t true. It is coming to an end soon; a single tear falls from my eye. I don’t bother to wipe it away as it leaves a cold trail down to my chin. Leaving that room with all my prized possessions would be harder than stepping over the body of the man I killed.

I feel no remorse about that; it’s funny how the mind works. I’ll miss my books and my blown glass collection, but not the man I just spent twenty-three years with. As I look down at his pale green eyes, they are already starting to cloud over. Death is a strange creature. I place my hand on his still-warm flesh. He had been full of life ten minutes ago; now nothing, a blank empty stare, almost as if he never existed. Ah, just as well. He wasn’t much of a human anyway. I move my hand over his heart; blood pooled on his shirt. My hand is now sticky, his blood matches my nails – how apropos.

Police sirens wail in the distance. I can hear people still talking outside. The gunshots had brought them running. I guess they were concerned, as we had been the perfect couple. I knew at that moment that if I ran from the house covered in blood and screaming, they would back me. I ought to say that we were attacked, and my husband was murdered. But, I want out; I am bored and tired, and just plain sick of life.

My eyes trail back to my library, and my glass collection, and I know this is where I belong. This is my home, where I was happiest – when alone. I kick off my shoes and move around the broken glass to my favorite chair.  I sit back allowing the softness to envelop me; red lights flash beyond the curtains. I bring the gun up to my temple; a smile caresses my face as my finger tightens on the trigger.


Darkness swirls around me dissipating to a soft yellow light. I open my eyes, trying to remember where I was, and what had happened.  A shadow suddenly blocks the light and my husband’s voice booms in my head.

“Welcome to hell bitch!”

My scream rips through the house as only a silent icy wind.


The little girl moved into her mother’s hip, burying her face amongst the soft ruffles of her skirt, as her mother put away the dishes in their new home.

She whimpered, “I don’t like it here mommy.”





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