Tuesday, November 13, 2012

Flash Fiction "Dead and Breakfast"

Submitted my Novembers Flash Fiction contest today.

Story is called "Dead and Breakfast"


Dead and Breakfast
The air grew colder as the night progressed. My clothes had been stripped away. I was thrown out into the cold after I had disobeyed my master, Mr. Hawthorne. As I laid there on the frozen courtyard grounds, I had only scarce thoughts, deep thoughts. I knew that I was going to pass away from this relentless night bearing down on my pale, milky skin. However, I knew my death wasn't going to be in vain. I was no longer going to be tormented by a tyrant that treated me more like a sex slave than a simple servant girl. My mistress was murdered after witnessing my former master’s attempt to seduce me. Since that day, I feared for my life – always giving in to my former master’s orders. That was until the night I decided enough was enough.

“Susan!” Mr. Hawthorne called out to me.

I was alone in my own sleeping quarters, away from all the other servants.

“Susan! Come here now!” he demanded.

“Coming master!” I yelled in reply.

I quickly donned my silky white gown and bonnet and proceeded down the winding stairs into the white-washed family room. Mr. Hawthorne always had a taste for the finest leathers he can get his hands on. A round glass coffee table rested between the two couches that faced each other. I stood there on the cold wooden floors that made my feet quickly ache, shivers traveled quickly up my body into the back of my neck making every hair on my neck stand up.

My head hanged low and my hands clasped together in front of me as I was taught to do. I didn't have to look up at my master to see just how his state of well-being was. The stench of the alcohol on his clothes and in his breath grew stronger. He was stepping closer to me.

Suddenly I began to feel a dull ache run through my bones as I heard an unfamiliar sound echoing from his deep raspy voice. He was crying.

“I….have never meant to hurt you my dear…” he began as he ran his thick callused hands through my bangs.

He then slowly ran his hands down to my shoulder softly caressing it.

“M…master,” I began to whimper and shake.

“Master, you’re drunk,” I pleaded.

He then slapped me in the face with the back of his thick hand sending me sliding across the wooden floor. Everything went completely black. I then woke to find myself laying out in the freezing winter cold in the courtyard.  I was alone….and naked.

I was no longer going to be tormented by a tyrant that treated me more like a sex slave than a simple servant girl.

Many years had passed and I still roamed the halls of the manor that once knew my mere faint existence.  I had watched idly by as my former master took in new servant girls and treated them as I was treated. The case was always the same…..silence or death.

However, my once mere faint existence was about to become well known for a man that accepted my existence in the cruelest of ways and frenzy shall follow.

“Aunt Julie, check out this house,” the little blonde girl yelled out to her petite build brown haired aunt.

Amy was a 16 year old slender, blonde teenager out on summer break with her Aunt Julie in Augusta, Maine.

“Slow down Amy,” her aunt replied as she struggled to pull the luggage out of the beat up tan Volkswagen.

Amy rushed down the dirt path leading to the front steps of the pasty white Hawthorne Manor. The pillars looked as though they were worn with several cracks spiraling down them. She rushed up the steps to the large brown arch like door and rang the doorbell. The doorbell rang an ominous deep tone indicating its wariness.

A large hulking man in a 19th century outfit answered the door. His face indicated grimace and his eyes seemed as black as night. She soaked in every bit of this man that was standing before her.

“Um…Is this…Hawthorne Manor?” Amy asked as she fumbled with the brochure in her hands.
Julie was still by the car fumbling with the luggage.

The tall overbearing man gazed down upon the teenager before him and gave a sly half-smile response to her innocent question.

“Come on in my dear…” he replied with his deep raspy voice as he stepped back and gave a gentlemen’s like bow indicating her to enter the home.

“I hope you enjoy your stay here at my lovely bed & breakfast,” he stated to Julie as she entered the Manor still continuing to struggle with the luggage.

Mr. Hawthorne gave the two a tour of the Manor before disappearing into the study.

“What a lovely Manor. I could just absolutely die in this place!” exaggerated Amy.

“Didn't Mr. Hawthorne seem….a little strange to you?” asked Amy’s Aunt Julie.

“Nah, you’re just paranoid Aunt Julie. Take a load off,” she reassured her aunt.

The two began to settle in for the night as they got ready for bed and take on the beach the next day.

Amy knew this was going to be her best summer yet. However, strange creaking noises filled the hallway just outside the room her and her aunt Julie slept in. The sounds grew closer in the form of heavy footsteps coming closer to the bedroom. Amy began to shake in fear at this creeping sound hoping they would stop.

The sound had stopped….

....outside her room.

“Amy!” a female voice called out to her.

She quickly turned around, frightened to realize that it was not her aunt calling her name but that of the servant girl that passed away on the grounds of the courtyard outside the manor.

“Do not open the door!” the ghost whispered.

Amy stood there in silence with a drooping jaw, fiercely keeping herself from screaming.

Copyright ©2012



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