• the_novel_idealist

17 January 2020 - 15 Minute Fiction Friday


"Nothing here," John shouted, screwing up his nose as the smell of charring remains circled the still-smoking room.


Hours they had been forced to wait, listening from outside in anguish, as the inferno raged, the sounds of inhabitant’s screams fading slowly away, unable to enter.


He looked over the pile of bodies towards the corner of the room; something had stirred in the darkness, but it couldn't be anyone. Whatever had destroyed the building had certainly not left anyone alive.


A hand, unmistakably, emerged from the shadows, white, distant, deathly.


Then it followed, not a survivor, but something truly terrible.