That's right, I said Special Edition.
I was working this morning when I realized that I did not have a blog post for today. I needed a flash fiction story, and I had... nothing. I was drawing a big blank. So, I turned to that wonderful font of inspiration, Twitter. I asked for prompts from my twitter friends, and thanks to @UnderPope, I got a hilarious one. So, the below story can be blamed on him.
I haven’t gone into my kitchen in a month. Hell, I left my apartment a week ago. I’m only here now because you said you would help me burn them out. There in there. I know they’re in there. They got my cat Fluffy just over a week ago. That’s what caused me to leave. I saw her, on the floor by the kitchen door, four little puncture wounds in her neck. Drained of blood. Both of them. They both killed her.
Okay, okay, I’m breathing. I’ll start from the beginning. It all began innocuous enough. I had just got home from grocery shopping. At first, they seemed perfectly normal, like everything else I bought. In fact, they looked juicy and appetizing, I couldn’t wait to have them. So, I brought them with me to the attic, where I was going to perform my nightly ritual. Don’t look at me like that. I know you disagree with my faith, but don’t judge me. I don’t judge you.
Anyway, as I was casting my spell, I… cut myself, ON ACCIDENT, with my knife, and the blood spilled on them. Well, on one, to be honest. But, apparently, the blood was enough to combine with the energy in the air, and something happened. The little thing turned red. Bright red, too. I interrupted my ceremony to bring it down stairs and wash it. The color didn’t come off, and I thought it was odd, but I was curious to see what the ritual had done to it, so I kept it around, and went back upstairs to complete the ritual.
When I got back down stairs, I saw that it had moved from where I placed it. It was standing next to another one, now also bright red, and they were both standing over the bananas. I kid you not, all six bananas were flat as could be, with tiny puncture wounds on them, but they had not been peeled open. Then, one of them smiled at me.
That was the last time I went into the kitchen. I could hear them in there, making their way through the fruit and eventually to the food in the fridge. I made the mistake of looking in there once, and saw them feeding, fangs sunk into the side of a frozen stake. There were four of them, now. They had grown bigger, too.
I thought I could keep them in there, find a way to reverse whatever magic I had accidently put on them, but when they killed Fluffy, I knew I had to take drastic measures. And that’s when I called you.
Don’t look at me like that. I’m telling you the truth. My kitchen has been taken over… taken over by…