Here’s a piece of horror flash fiction about coming face-to-face with evil. It’s about 880 words and has an estimated reading time of 3.5 minutes. Let me know what you think!
I shouldn’t have been out so late.
My girlfriends warned me to stay in after 10 p.m., everyone did. But I went to the bar anyway, undoubtedly because I was lonely and looking to get laid. I guess you can say I make bad decisions a lot. I meet shady men, bring them home, then forget their names. It’s a problem.
It’s more problematic lately, though. As I walked home in the midnight rain that Tuesday night, I thought about the serial killer loose in South Philly. Everyone, especially young women like me, knew the police sketching of his incredibly handsome face. And most young women, or at least the ones who were smart, unlike me, were behind double-bolted doors right now.
“Hey,” called a voice in the darkness.
The hair shot up on my arms like I was electrocuted.
“Hey, pretty,” the voice called again.
I turned around and saw the face, and I knew. Strong jaw, Caucasian male in his late twenties, slicked back brown hair, pearly white teeth, and crystal blue eyes to die for. It was him, and he was so fucking gorgeous in an evil sort of way a girl like me could mistake him for Satan himself.
“Oh my god,” I whispered. “Please, leave me alone.”
He held out his hand. “I just wanna chat. That’s not so bad, right?”
I froze, fearing anything could happen. It was late; no one was around, and I was a few blocks away from my apartment. “I just wanna talk; I’m so lonely, you know? Talk about the universe, astrophysics, quantum mechanics. You look like a smart girl. Or maybe we can talk politics, okay? Or sports? Do you like baseball? How about soccer? Or, shit, we could discuss history. The fall of the Roman empire, the origins of totalitarianism in Europe. We could talk all night, baby. Just talk. What do you say? Take a walk with me.”
By then, he’d grabbed my hand, squeezing so tight it hurt and led me down an alleyway. As weird as it sounds, his voice was melodic and soothing, almost intoxicating. He was dressed so clean and neat, wearing dress pants and a nice collared shirt. He was the most beautiful man I’d ever seen and, despite knowing how much danger I was in, I wanted to run but couldn’t. I was entranced.
“Please,” I begged. “Don’t hurt me. Please, please, please.”
The maniac smiled; his pristine white teeth glared in the darkness. “Oh, no, never,” he lied. “I’m a good man, you see? An educated man. Sophisticated, a man of esteemed tastes. I know poetry, the arts, I know it all. That’s not ‘mansplaining,’ by the way. Not very modest, though, I know.
He whispered, “I’ve met the aliens, let me tell you. Right there in the deserts of New Mexico. I’ve convened with kings and presidents. I’ve traveled to different realms and dimensions. I’ve gathered libraries of knowledge in this thick skull of mine. Can I tell you? Can I tell you about these bold adventures? How about the time I witnessed a volcanic eruption? Or the time I traveled back in time and almost stopped the assassination of Abraham Lincoln?”
I was so scared that I’d nearly blacked out. The freak wasn’t making sense, yet he continued to jabber in his silky voice. He still held my hand tightly so I couldn’t run, and I was afraid if I screamed, he’d kill me right then and there. So, I waited, waited for any opportunity. I let him ramble, tuning him out and only seeing the contours of his mouth move.
Nearly an hour later, he was still rambling, and it felt like an eternity of terror. “Okay, that’s enough,” the lunatic said, his voice dropping to a deeper, more sinister tone. “Now that you know about me, I want to show you something. Can I show you something?” I shook my head affirmatively. “Good, good! It’s very special. I only show it to my most special friends.”
He removed a long blade from the belt on his hip, letting the steel shine in the moonlight. Then, he licked the edges. I was crying, and the more I cried, the more excited he seemed to get. “Oh, don’t cry. It won’t hurt so bad. Only some slices here and there for my special friend.”
Just when it seemed my life would end, a police siren wailed. We could see the blue and red lights flash in the alleyway. The lunatic man sprinted away from me, disappearing into the dark night. I collapsed in the alleyway, screaming until the police found me.
They finally caught the serial killer two weeks later after he’d claimed another three victims. His name was Theo Vega, a 29-year-old software engineer who lived in a ritzy apartment in Center City and who also happened to be the younger brother of the City Council President.
I have never come so close to evil in my life, but that night, I looked evil in the face, and I can’t wipe the image away. Theo Vega is the devil incarnate, and I will never live in peace until I am sure he’s locked away forever.
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