Note: As some of you know, I often participate in a weekly writing contest called “Cracked Flash Fiction Competition.” The following piece won this week. I owe this weeks judge, Ronel Janse van Vuuren, a big thank you for catching my typos and still choosing my story in spite of the,.
By Sara Codair
“When this is over, I want my sanity back,” said Elena as matter-of-factly as one could say anything when wearing a straightjacket in a padded room.
The padded walls spread their crusty purple lips, revealing row upon row of pointy yellow teeth and laughed.
“I mean it.” She waggled her pointer finger at the ceiling.
“Who says it will ever be over?” The wall’s lips cracked as it spoke.
“Who said I was talking to you,” retorted Elena, tearing her eyes away from the ceiling so she could glare at the wall.
Black blood dripped out of the wall’s cracked lip, trickling down to the floor. “No one leaves here alive.”
Elena laughed. The sound was harsher, more maniacal than it had been two weeks ago.
“You do not believe?” asked the wall.
“You’re the reason I’m here.” She crouched down, wriggling in the straightjacket that was not nearly as tight as the orderlies thought, thankful for all the months she’d trained prior to taking this assignment.
“You can’t do that,” said the wall.
Elena arched one eyebrow as she shrugged off the jacket and used it to wipe up the black blood.
The wall opened its mouth and screamed. Elena didn’t flinch. It inhaled, sucking in air so hard her hair blew towards its maw. She closed her eyes, cleared her mind of the all the drug-induced hallucinations she’d had during her stay Frommington Hospital, waiting for the wall to show its true face.
She whispered words of power in the ancient tongue. The blood soaked jacket caught fire. The wall screamed as it burned with the jacket. The door opened as orderlies rushed in to put out the fire. Elena charged through them and strolled out of the burning hospital like she owned the place.