Flash! Fiction

(I have drawn my inspiration from the wonderful Flashfiction’s that have already posted on the blog.I hope you guys don’t mind and if you do I will obviously take this story down xx)

“Oh God not another one!” gasped Dr Morton. The squeak of his thin white plimsoles echoed down the corridor and his white coat billowed out behind him like a cape as he ran. A timid-looking nurse at the other end of the hall ran to greet him, her once tight bun unraveled in dismay with each step she took. The nurse was frantically pushing a wheel chair with rapt fingers clamped around the handles. In the chair was sat a woman of about 40 years old; she was dressed in a smart pin-stripe business suit with a sensible shoe on her right foot ,her left foot was bare and her toes gnarled. The woman’s facial features were hidden by a mess of thick black hair which spread over her face. The woman’s hand’s were cupped in her lapped and she heaved and wretched the contents of her stomach in them. However the woman was unable to collect her revulsion as she did not spew vomit but instead sand, which trickled through her fingers leaving a sea-shore spray on the floor.
“Same as the last. We found her outside on the ground after the last thunder clap.” stuttered the Nurse halting the Doctor. “Whh…where should I put her?”
“Ward 9, Sally. Take them all to Ward 9.”
“Yes.” Answered Dr Morton gravely, “I have a feeling there’s a lot more coming.” And he carried on running.
The Nurse wheeled woman round the corner in to Ward 9, where the rest were, and hoisted her in to one of the few remaining beds.
“You picked a hell of a day to start, Byrne.” Sally said to the young Doctor who was patrolling the ward bewildered, tending to each of the bizarrely afflicted patients. Byrne hadn’t heard Sally, he was more preoccupied with a debate he was having with an elderly gentleman who had a golden watch lodged firmly in the center of his forehead.
“I’m telling you there was a glow of light, and there it was. Just stuck there.” the man huffed.
“I seriously doubt that happened.” Byrne contested.
“Well it did.” he replied folding his arms petulantly.
The woman Sally had just brought in was curled upon the bed still spewing sand over the side like the running of an egg timer, Sally left her, moving along to the next bed where a bare-chested man lay unconscious. Across his chest was the purple stamp of a bruise that appeared to spell out a message.
“Liser and Ford. Who are Liser and Ford?” Sally murmured.
“Lisa Ranford.” Byrne suddenly replied. She spun round to see Byrne had moved on to another bed also, leaving the Watch-man to pick at his forehead in a vain attempt to get the clockwork to start again.
“How do you know that?” questioned Sally, moving across to Byrne who was attempting to check his patient’s pulse but the man’s pale arms were firmly wrapped round a small package. Byrne, without turning, pointed to the window. Sally looked outside the window, dark clouds rolled angrily across the sky, she observed a moss covered tombstone with the name ‘Lisa Ranford’ etched in to it lodged in the grass at the front of the hospital. Alongside the tombstone there was a veritable cornucopia of unusual objects; a heavy church bell slumped on its side, a small cracked bridge like the kind that you’d find running across a stream, pages torn from a bible, red slate tiles, dripping wax candles, the golden butts of cigarettes, and amidst these objects fleeted a large howling fox.
“They’re saying it came down in the rain.” Byrne said with almost too much composure.
“It’s not raining.” muttered Sally incredulously. She gazed in awe at the condensation which had been assumed as rain but which was in fact millions of tiny bubbles drifting through the air. Sally turned sharply from the window, unable to believe her eyes.
“What’s wrong with him?” Sally asked of the man who’s hand Byrne was trying to prise from that package.
“But it’s July.”
Just as Sally spoke another blast of lightning wracked the landscape; sending an ethereal and dazzling light through the entire ward, causing many of the patients, as well as Sally, to throw their hands over their eyes. A loud crash drew Sally and Byrne’s eyes to the window and they were dumbstruck to see that the branches of the oak tree out front now precariously held a police car with its red and blue lights still flashing.

by Hayley Rutherford
What were your prompts?: flashfiction


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