Bit of Mischief- Friday Flash and a contest.

Hello, Trick-or-Treaters! Some where in this week’s Friday Flash, I have hidden all the words to a certain horror movie title. There is a treat waiting for you if you can name the movie. Just leave your guess in a comment on this flash. It’s that simple. If you’re right, you get the treat.

I will post the people with the right answers on Halloween with the instructions on how to claim one of my ebooks for free. That’s right, Trick-or-Treaters. Everyone who is right gets a free copy of one of my books. Your choice.  

So sit back, enjoy the story, and don’t forget to comment.

May your haunts be merry and your frights be spectacular.

Happy Halloween, everyone!!










By Melissa L. Webb

Mitch kicked an empty soda can out of his way; sending it skittering across the sidewalk into the gutter, where it laid in some mashed pumpkin. “Man, this Halloween sucks.”

His best friend, Tommy, was stuck at home, in bed, with the chicken pox. He couldn’t believe that. Who gets chicken pox when they’re 12 years old?

“Stupid Tommy,” he muttered as he crossed the street, barely paying attention to the other children passing by. This was supposed to be their big night. It was the one night they could dress up, scare little kids, pig-out on candy, cause some mischief, and get away with it. But, no, his supposed friend had ruined it with the stupid chicken pox.

Now Mitch was stuck prowling the night by himself, wearing a ridiculous costume on top of that. He was supposed to be a dying person, but no body would ever get that without the zombie that was supposed to be attacking him. “Stupid chicken pox,” he said, turning a corner. A whole year of planning, gone, because of some tiny red dots. This was the worst Halloween ever.

“Hey, can I join you?”

Mitch looked up as a boy his own age came out of the field next to him. He eyed him suspiciously. “I don’t know. What’s your name?”

“It’s Henry,” the boy said, offering a smile.

Mitch glanced at the dirty old rags he was wearing. “What are you supposed to be?”

“A dead body.”

Mitch smiled, his face lighting up. This kid thought a lot like him. “Hey, that’s what I am, too.”

“Cool. Can I trick-or-treat with you? My friends bailed on me.”

Mitch shrugged. Why not? A night like this could only get better, right? “Sure. My friend bailed on me, too. I might as well tag along with you. I have nothing better to do.”

They fell in step together, setting out to snag some candy and to cause a bit of mischief.

After they hit as many houses as they could, Mitch sat down on a small stonewall that wrapped around the town park. “Man, I don’t think I’ve ever walked so much in my life.” He looked around the park. “Wow, it’s really dark out here.”

Henry agreed, sitting down next to him, his torn clothes fluttering in the breeze. “I’ve never been out this way before. I don’t go too far from home if I’m by myself.”

Mitch glanced over at his new friend. “Are you alone a lot?”

The boy nodded sadly. “Yeah, I’m afraid I am.”

Mitch leaned over, punching the kid lightly in the shoulder, a grin plastered across his face. “Cheer up. Now you have me,” he told him honestly.

Henry’s face lit up. “Really? Are you serious? You’ll be my friend?”

He stood up, scooping up his bag of candy. “Sure,” he said. “Now, come on. It’s really late. My mom will throw a fit if I’m not home soon.”

Henry stood up and followed his new friend, lost in thought. “So, you really want to hang out with me?”

Mitch glanced over his shoulder. “Yes, I said so, didn’t I?”

“It can get pretty boring where I live.”

“Then I guess we’ll just have to find something fun to do.”

Henry smiled. “Good. I hate being alone,” he told him before going back to his thoughts.

“I think this is the most candy I’ve ever had,” Mitch pondered aloud, staring into his bag of loot. “How about you?”

“I don’t know. I don’t really trick-or-treat. Not since I was alive anyway.”

Mitch turned around and stared at the kid. “Very funny.”

“Don’t worry, Mitch,” he said, stepping closer to him. We’re going to have a lot of fun together. We’ll be best friends and we’ll spend eternity hanging out, haunting our graveyard.”

“What are you talking about?”

Henry didn’t answer as he shoved Mitch as hard as he could.

Mitch’s arms flailed, trying to stop himself from going over backwards. But he couldn’t. His feet slipped from the sidewalk, his head bouncing against asphalt.

His vision cleared long enough to see the headlights barreling towards him. He knew they’d never stop in time. It seemed Henry would get his playmate after all.


© 2011 Melissa L. Webb


Secrets-Friday Flash

a hospital room (Denmark, 2005)

Image via Wikipedia


By Melissa L. Webb

I watched him; the empty look in his eyes chilling me to the very core. I had never seen that much emptiness in a person before. I kept my composure, not letting even a muscle in my face betray the fear I felt as I sat down. I couldn’t. These people were like wolves, they’d eat you alive if they even smelled a drop of fear.

“So, Roy…how are you feeling today?” I asked him, knowing full well I wouldn’t get any response. I never did.

He shifted in his chair, finding a new paint chip to stare at on the stark white walls.

Opening the folder in front of me, my eyes scanned my scribbled notes. Withdrawn, unresponsive, delusional at times. Possibly psychotic. My words said it all. I didn’t think I would ever get through to this patient.

“Is there anything you’d like to talk about today?” I didn’t know why I even bothered anymore. There never was.

He sat there, the same slack-jawed look on his face. It never changed. He was always lost in some far off world.

“Okay, Roy,” I said, scribbling a few more notes before shutting the file. “Let’s get you back to your room.” I stood up to call an orderly. This charade was growing pointless. You couldn’t cure someone who wasn’t even there.

“I know you think I’m insane.” His voice was soft and smooth, not at all what I would have guessed. It startled me, causing the phone to slip between my fingers.

I turned to look at him. His eyes held mine, completely aware. “W-what?”

“Give it up, Dr. Charles. It’s safer to leave me the way I am,” he told me seriously. “The world is safe as long as I never confess what I know.”

I stared at him, speechless. A rational man now sat before me, telling me something I still couldn’t believe. “Who are you?”

“Again, it’s better if you don’t know. The information in my head is deadly.”

“I don’t understand. What could be so horrible you’d do this to yourself?”

He sighed, leaning back in his chair. “Trust me, Doc. Stop asking me to talk. It gets temping at times to purge myself of what I know and…if you keep chipping away at me, I’m afraid I just might.”

I turned away from him. Curiosity bloomed in my chest. What could possibly be so damning? I had to know.


© 2011 Melissa L. Webb


Wall Fan, Abandoned- Friday Flash


By Melissa L. Webb

Ian leaned back in his chair, taking a deep breath.  He felt like he had been working on these papers for hours.  He could feel a tension headache coming on.  Too many words in front of his eyes.  Throwing his feet up on the desk, he stared across his study.  He tried to find something to focus on to stop the blur invading his eyes.

He studied the cream-colored walls around him, trying to relax the strain.  His eyes caught something he had never noticed before.  A square stood out in the wall above the shelving.  Getting up from his chair, he moved closer to it.

Sure enough, there was a boarded up panel right below the ceiling, almost hidden by the various items he’d placed on the top shelf.  Why hadn’t he noticed that before?  It should have been obvious when he’d placed the stuff up there.  He squinted in the harsh florescent light.  Were those words up there?

Dragging a chair in front of the shelves, he stepped up, bringing the square into sight.  He grabbed a statue from the shelf, tossing in onto the couch, adding a trophy to it for good measure.  He wanted plenty of room to see what was lurking above his shelf for the last five months.

He peered closely at the words scrawled in pencil across the top of the boarded-up square.  Wall fan, abandoned.  He stared at the words, puzzled by their meaning.  Why would it be important enough to label something like that?  Wouldn’t it make sense just to cover it up and forget about it?  Or, maybe it was a note for the new owners.  A chance to give them back something that was taken?

Ian smile.  Like him.  He always thought this room was too stuffy.  He spent enough time in here, hours and hours of paperwork smothering him; he could use some fresh air occasionally.  Stepping down from the chair, he left the room in search of some tools.

Coming back, hammer in hand, he stepped back up on the chair.  He tossed the rest of the items from the shelf on the couch.  He’d hate for anything to end up broken.  Sticking the claw of the hammer in between the wood, he pried as hard as he could.  The nails popped lose, sending the wooden square flying.  He glanced up at the hole, slight disappointment pooling into him.

He didn’t know what he had been expecting.  Maybe someone’s treasures, but true to its word, a simple wall fan looked back at him.  Stepping back off the chair, he set the hammer down on his desk.  He looked around the room, hands on his hips.  Now, how to turn it on?  His eyes searched the walls, looking for a forgotten light switch.  They found nothing.  He let out a sigh.  Well, adventure over.  There was no way it was going to work with out a switch.

He grabbed the hammer, heading for the wood lying on the floor.  It was time to go back to work.  As soon as he leaned over to pick it up, the blades of the fan whirled to life.  It rattled, shaking loose the years of dust covering it.  He looked up at it.  A question on his lips.  How had that turned on?

He stood there, staring up at it, feeling the air rush by him and frowned.  It was going the wrong way.  The fan was sucking in air.  “Well, damn,” he muttered.  He now had a broken fan in his office he couldn’t turn off.

Well, maybe it would stop if he closed it back up.  Picking up the wood on the floor, he turned back to the chair.  The fan motor whined as the blades picked up speed.  They spun, faster and faster, until they were nothing more than a blur.

Ian felt the air suck at him, pulling at his clothes.  He had to stop the thing, there was no way he could get any work done with this going on.  Moving closer, he stepped onto the chair.  But his feet didn’t stop; they rose up as the air around him sucked him forward.  The blades kept spinning as he was sucked into it, disappearing in a splattered mess somewhere in the wall.

The blades slowed, stopping completely with another whine.  The board jumped, sealing itself to the hole in the wall.  The room returned to the way it had been before the fan was disturbed; the words growing bolder across the wood.  Maybe the next owner would heed the writing on the wall.


© 2011 Melissa L. Webb


Terrible Mistake- Friday Flash

Picture of the "Gingerbread House" i...

Image via Wikipedia


By Melissa L. Webb

“There. That’s it. The last box,” Jennifer said, setting it down on the plush carpet of her new house. She looked around her and smiled. She had finally done it. She was on her own.

With a sigh, she plopped down on her ratty old couch, surveying the disaster area that currently was her living room. Sure, there were unpacked boxes all over the place, but it was her space and hers alone.


Leaning back into the couch, she shut her eyes, letting the peace and quiet sink into her bones. Growing up with four brothers in the house, she’d never gotten to relax at home. It was always a jumble of horseplay and hollering. But those days were over; she was on her own.

Getting up, she made her way through the house. It was spacious and wonderful, something a college student shouldn’t be able to afford. She still couldn’t believe the rent was so cheap. A place this big should be five-times what she was paying for it.

Jennifer went into the master bedroom-her master bedroom-and glanced out the sliding glass door leading to the balcony. This place was a dream and she wasn’t going to let cheap rent stop her from enjoying it. This was her paradise, her new start in life.

A thud sounded from behind her, pulling her from her thoughts. She turned quickly, puzzled by the sound. A box was lying in the middle of the floor, her things scattered about.

Frowning, she looked around the room. She knew that box had been in the middle of her bed. How did it end upside down on the floor? Bending down, she began to gather up her items. Suddenly something struck her from behind.

She jumped up, looking for the thing that hit her. One of her tennis shoes was lying behind her. Picking it up, she looked around the room. Someone was messing with her.

“Okay, you can come out now,” she called, anger dripping from her voice. She should have known her brothers would pull something like this. Couldn’t she have anything to herself?

No one emerged as she waited in silence. Fury began to rise in her throat. They couldn’t give her an evening of peace, could they? “Where are you?” she demanded.

A crashing sounded from downstairs. Quickly, she sprinted along the hall and down the stairs. Tears flooded her eyes as she stared at the living room carpet. Her grandmother’s lamp lay in pieces, jagged reminders of what she could never get back.

“No,” she cried. “How could you guys do this to me?” She looked around the living room, trying to find where her brothers were hiding. “Noah, Brett,” Jennifer yelled. “Tony, Richard. Whichever one of you did this, is toast. Mom’s going to come unglued.”

Nothing but silence answered her. Wiping away tears, she stood there, frustrated. She knew she never really got along with her brothers; but she couldn’t believe they’d go this far to torment her. “How could you do this to me? I’ve done nothing but put up with you all these years.”

A chair squeaked in the kitchen. She stomped forward, ready to throttle whoever was in there. Moving through the archway, she stopped in shock. The kitchen was empty. She was tired of this. Turning around, she headed back the way she had come. “Get out of my house…right now!”

A dark shadow pulsed in the middle of the living room. It grew larger until an outline of a man formed. It looked at her, hatred in its pale eyes. “THIS IS MY HOUSE!” it bellowed.

She stepped back; terror engulfing her as she stared at the thing. This wasn’t a trick of her brothers’. This was something else. Something sinister. She suddenly realized why she had gotten this place so cheap. It was already occupied.

The shadow stepped towards her. “How dare you invade my space, then make demands of me,” it roared. “I will teach you how to act in my presence.”

Jennifer backed up, reaching for the front door behind her. She had made a terrible mistake coming here. She had been in such a hurry to be free of her family, she hadn’t really thought about why this house had been standing empty. “I’m sorry,” she spoke to the thing in front of her, her fingers tightening around the doorknob. “You can have your place back. I don’t want it.” She pulled the door opened and flung herself through, disappearing into the chilly evening.

The entity moved, slamming the door, its faint chuckle like rusty hinges protesting in the night. “It isn’t that easy,” its voice spoke, filling up the house. “Once you’re here, you can’t escape me. Ever.” The shadow disappeared, waiting for the clock to roll back and another chance to feed on her soul.

“There. That’s it. The last box,” Jennifer said, setting it down on the plush carpet of her new house. She looked around her and smiled. She had finally done it. She was on her own.


© 2011 Melissa L. Webb