Here’s an interesting Flash Fiction piece, that would have been more appropriate for Halloween, but back then we were dealing with a Malware attack!

 by Christine J. Whitlock

Walking down the street that evening, the cold wind assaulted the figure so he headed into the first bright open building. In the antique store, the aisles were so narrow that you had to walk sideways. The overhead light bulbs were bare of shades. A fine dust covered the mess of treasures, knick knacks and trash.

The middle-aged owner, Don, stood behind a worn counter arranging paperwork in the fading twilight. Nick, a fashionable Goth, entered the store and scanned the aisles back and forth like a windshield wiper.

Nick looked up and gave the man a nod. “Hey, hi! How are you?”

Don’s voice was cool. Weirdos were always trouble. “OK.  Just doing government remittance. If you need anything, let me know.” Don went back to his paperwork.

Nick caressed his black-gloved hand over a few furniture pieces then elevated his finger to reveal a small amount of dust. Nick picked up some silver trinkets, saw that Don had turned his back, and tucked the tarnished trinkets into his coat’s velvet-lined pocket.

Nick bent over an elaborately carved cherry desk and pulled out each drawer to look inside. The bottom drawer when pulled forward gave a strange clink sound. Nick looked inside to find an empty drawer. When he pushed it in softly, he heard the sound like an old milk bottle.

Nick looked up and saw the heavyset proprietor busy writing in a ledger book. Slowly and silently, Nick pulled the drawer totally out and sees a small glass bottle stuck to the back of the drawer. The antique storeowner looked up but then went back to his data entry. Nick cautiously peeled off the bottle from the back of the drawer and rubbed his gloved fingers over the dusty bottle to see its swirling thick red liquid.

*****

Exiting the antique store, Nick kissed a female Goth, Val, at the entrance to the alley between the two buildings. Their embrace was interrupted by flashing lights and loud music that filtered to the street. Nick and Val peered down the alley then squeezed past debris to make their way down to the increasing music volume.

The end of the alley opened to the left to a black fire-escape staircase where black-clothed figures gyrated. Farther back was a backyard scene with a tented structure alighted with black candles on a table. Strange paintings adorned the walls within the tent.

Val squeezed Nick’s arm draped in a vintage black crepe morning coat. “Great, Nick! We found a Goth party.”

Nick stroked his electric black hair back to a plume. “All right!”

Nick and Val gyrated as they moved into the audience. The black-clothed figures moved closer to them. Nick’s hand touched the side of his pocket to feel the vial. “Hey Val, here’s what I snatched out of that antique store tonight.”

He lifted the glass vial with its dark red swirling liquid up to the light and it vibrated in both sound and light.

All music stopped. All figures stopped and turned to the light and Nick. Nick said, “What the…”

A short grubby-clothed figure jumped up, grabbed the vial out of Nick’s hand, and ran out of the alley. Nick looked at the figures being transformed in front of him. “Val, run.”

Val turned to grab Nick’s arm to accompany her. “Nick…”

The black figures surrounded Nick and Val. They all showed their white faces and sharp fangs as they enveloped the two with their cloaks. One male reached with his long blackened fingernails to Nick’s throat and wrenched Nick’s neck to the side. His fangs pierced like two needles Nick’s neck without a squirt but a gurgle sound. A teenage boy black-clothed form bent forward and grabbed Nick’s wrist and punctured the beating blood vessel.

An elderly man slid on the ground and grabbed onto Nick’s leg. He pulled down his black lace sock to reveal a pearl white ankle. The elderly man clutched his ankle as his mouth expanded to force the fangs into a better biting position.

Nick’s body writhed, convulsed and thrashed with each of his various body parts under attack.

Val was no less vulnerable to the attacks by the female members of this dark clan. Her fear popped out her eyes like bubbles, her long blonde hair tangled like unruly vines, and her lips extended back in a silent scream.

          THE END.