Welcome to the Tuesday Romance Weekly Blog Hop. We are a group of 47 romance authors, across all genres who gather together once a week to do this hop. We all tackle the same subject matter and you can link back to Kim Handysides if you missed her.
J.R. Richardson handed out this week's assignment. Write a piece of spooky flash fiction. No more than 300 words long. It could be real, or it could be made up. My story, which came in at 300 words exactly, is based on a real life event. I hope you'll enjoy.
J.R. Richardson handed out this week's assignment. Write a piece of spooky flash fiction. No more than 300 words long. It could be real, or it could be made up. My story, which came in at 300 words exactly, is based on a real life event. I hope you'll enjoy.
Photo Courtesy of Freedigitalphoto.net/Victor Habbik God, this house was creepy. If Gillian hadn’t needed the money so much, she’d have never accepted this babysitting job. But it was just one child and the seventy bucks she’d earn for entertaining a kid for thirty minutes then studying after he went to bed was impossible to refuse. Especially since her mom was nagging her to pay what she owed on the phone bill. That was scarier than this being alone in a spooky house for a few hours.
She jumped every time the house made a noise. Which happened all the damn time. Clicks and ticks and groans and sighs. She took her attention off her biology textbook each time she heard something, attempting to figure out where the sound originated. So far, she’d been successful at identifying the furnace, the fridge and a tree branch striking the kitchen window whenever the wind blew.
But oh crap, she’d just heard footsteps over her head. Heavy steps...definitely not the sound of a four-year-old boy walking around. Grabbing the first thing that came to her hand—the kid’s tennis shoe, like that would be helpful— she stood in indecision for a moment. Scenes from every scary teen movie she’d watched flooded her imagination. Curious kids died in those films. But her conscience insisted she check on the kid.
Creeping upstairs, shoe grasped in her hand, she held her breath. Was someone else breathing? Turning the corner, she squeaked in fright as a large brown shape hurtled toward her.
Adrenaline surged, her heart pounded in fright. Bracing herself, eyes squinted, she stumbled when the heavy weight slammed into her. The family’s Great Dane balanced its paws on her shoulders and swiped its slobbery, disgusting tongue over her face.
She definitely would not be babysitting for this family again.
She jumped every time the house made a noise. Which happened all the damn time. Clicks and ticks and groans and sighs. She took her attention off her biology textbook each time she heard something, attempting to figure out where the sound originated. So far, she’d been successful at identifying the furnace, the fridge and a tree branch striking the kitchen window whenever the wind blew.
But oh crap, she’d just heard footsteps over her head. Heavy steps...definitely not the sound of a four-year-old boy walking around. Grabbing the first thing that came to her hand—the kid’s tennis shoe, like that would be helpful— she stood in indecision for a moment. Scenes from every scary teen movie she’d watched flooded her imagination. Curious kids died in those films. But her conscience insisted she check on the kid.
Creeping upstairs, shoe grasped in her hand, she held her breath. Was someone else breathing? Turning the corner, she squeaked in fright as a large brown shape hurtled toward her.
Adrenaline surged, her heart pounded in fright. Bracing herself, eyes squinted, she stumbled when the heavy weight slammed into her. The family’s Great Dane balanced its paws on her shoulders and swiped its slobbery, disgusting tongue over her face.
She definitely would not be babysitting for this family again.
Well, that's my contribution to this week's hop. Keep going to see what Brenda Magriet has for you. Thanks for stopping by and Happy Halloween.
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