I’ve never attempted to write from an unreliable narrator‘s perspective. There’s a first time for everything. Michael, the narrator in this story, is not completely lying, but obscuring the glaring truth.

Quite possibly the most morbid and implausible story I’ve written. I’m uncertain where inspiration came from; I’d like to think external influences inspired this one, rather than my own twisted mind. With Halloween creeping closer, this is probably the “scariest” story I’ll write.

Nevertheless, I hope you enjoy it. 


A summer breeze ruffles plump leaves. Sweet scents of nectar drown the menacing words scribed with ink, plastered in the paper within my trembling hands. I swallow. Although streaks of sunlight warm my cheeks and forehead, a foreboding dread paralyses all senses.

On a park bench reserved for bird-watching and other recreational activities, my heart beats faster than an accelerating knife. With heavy limbs remain trapped within these splattered words, dreams dissipate. An unfamiliar lightness shoots to my head.

You’re next,” I read aloud. Although my lips form these words multiple times, they remain ambiguous in meaning –or perhaps apprehension of its implications prevents me from attempting to understand. My best friend, Rena, sits beside me with crossed legs. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Michael, quit dwelling over it. Just a lame threat.” Her outstretched legs bury underneath the pile of leaves. She smiles softly. “Don’t get involved; it’s not worth it.”

“But… I was the one who saw.”

She waves her hand dismissively. Carefree as ever. “So? Chances are, you probably didn’t even see right.” Then, she holds up a yellow, fading cover of a book entitled, Psychology for the Mind. “Sometimes, when we’re scared or anxious, our mind makes up things. Besides, what you imagined them to do is–”

“Completely ridiculous. I know. But I know what I saw.”

With a sharp close of the book, Rena sighs. I never realised how long her legs were, but they were definitely notable; slender, curved in the right places, and somehow disjointed to the rest of her body. It feels… oddly out of place.

Her eyes flutter close. A wide smile extends through her face, as if humouring me. “You saw the murderer in black. A knife in hand. That’s all.”

The memories flood back.


Into the screeching black night, I wander through the forest with a profound curiosity, trying to find the compass I dropped earlier that day. Instead, a numbing scream drew my attention.

Murder is too simple a word for the unfolding events.

With a cackle repelling overheard birds into a frenzy, the knife plunges into the victim’s body. Piercing shrieks of agony escapes their bleeding, swollen lips. Forget-me-not blue eyes fixate upon the sky. Stuck in a nightmare.

The knife slices through the dead corpse, separating limbs. No sound; just the strong, nauseating smell of blood wafts through the air. Long, slender legs detach from the body. With a needle and translucent white string, the cloaked figure carefully sheds the skin from, attaching them to their own limbs.

My breath catches.


“Your face just changed,” Rena points out. “Do you remember anything else?”

Suddenly, the smile vanishes. Her eyes narrow into thin slits. Her smooth legs cross. Rena: I’ve never seen her without a floral shirt or red ribbons in her light-brown hair. She is my best friend; eating ice cream in summer heat, completing last-minute homework at three a.m. and my solace after my grandfather’s sudden death… a basket of cherished memories. She centres them all.

“Nope.” Sunlight catches into the trees, drowning us in shadows. A bird wails in the distant. “Nothing at all.”




8 thoughts on “Rena [HORROR FLASH FICTION]

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