Lizzie Koch Week 190: Full Of Beans

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Lizzie Koch’s Picture Choice: 2

Title: Full Of Beans

The lock on the door turned. Rachel sat up as she always did when he entered the room. He sat beside her. As he always did. He rested his large hand on her naked knee. As he always did. He reeked of stale tobacco and sweat. As he always did. Rachel stared blankly ahead, her breathing calm and controlled. She had learned, painfully learned, not to resist, fight, shed a tear or beg. But to wait. And accept. But worse, be thankful.

But today was different. He handed her a soft, fresh smelling towel and led her out of the room to the bathroom. She gazed at her reflection in the dirty mirror but a ghost stared back. Dirty, matted hair stuck to her washed out skin. Her once twinkling blue eyes were now pallid sunken orbs. A split of red on her lip and dull purple on her cheek provided the only colour to her existence. Splashing cold water over her face didn’t wake her from the melancholy, didn’t erase the neglect or rescue her from her squalor.

He stood in the doorway, handing her jeans and a t shirt. “We’re going out.”
Stepping out into the bright sunlight hurt her eyes but she couldn’t shield them. She was a stranger to the outside world. Her senses awakened, absorbing every sound, smell, feel, taste. But it had to be a trick. She sat on the hot leather seat as he drove away from her prison.
“I’m getting me a new girl.” He puffed on another cigarette. “Aren’t you gonna say something?”
“I’m dead inside.”
“You think I’m gonna kill you.”
“Aren’t you?”
“Well, you know I like my games. I have one more. I’m getting me a new girl so either way, you’re not coming back with me.” He stopped the car in a cloud of dust. “I know you don’t actually care whether you live or die right now but what if I said I was gonna set you free?”
“I’d ask what the catch is.”
He laughed and stepped from the car. “You see these barrels? They’re full to bursting with goodness.”

Rachel saw the barrels. Piled high with dried beans and pulses. A rainbow of colour she hadn’t seen in a long time; she had given up counting the days, weeks and months when she realised there was no end, no help and no escape.
“I call this Full of Beans. You know I like me beans.” He draped an arm across her thin shoulders. “Now, I’m not gonna ask you to eat your way to the bottom. I’m not even gonna ask you to carry them. But I can’t take you back. So what are we doing here?” He looked at Rachel, slouched and unmoved by his words. “Cheer up, this is your chance to go. I’m setting you free. You could at least smile.”
Rachel forced her lips to curl, splitting the cut open.
“Now, all you have to do is pick the right barrel. Somewhere in one of those barrels is a key. If you pick the key, you get to drive away in that jeep over there.” He pointed to a rusty old heap in the background.
Still, she stood silently.
“Now, you have three guesses. That’s it.”
“What if I choose wrong?”
“Ah, well, you see there are a few empty barrels and a few with other items in, items that, well, when you see them, you’ll know. But i’m fair. If you get the key, even on your third go, the jeep is yours.”
She sighed. Of course the odds were ridiculously against her. One key. Several barrels. Three guesses. A desolate space.
“I’ll leave you alone to your thoughts. It’s a beautiful day,” he said, walking back to his car. He sat and watched her as she stood, not even her hair blowing in the breeze. “Get on with it!”
He rummaged in his holdall for a beer. “Well what do you know,” he said to himself as he pulled out a set of keys. “I guess she won’t be going in the jeep after all.”

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I dream of sharing my work with the big wide world one day as a published author. Right now, I share flash fiction with a wonderful community of writers and friends. If you liked this story, then why not visit my blog at http://40somethingundomesticateddevil.blogspot.co.uk/ for more. Thank you. Love Lizzie x

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Lizzie Koch Week 188: The Puppet Master

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Lizzie Koch’s Picture Choice: 2

Title: The Puppet Master

Sheepishly, Jack returned from market, patting his threadbare pocket containing his purchase but it afforded him little comfort. The magic beans he acquired eight years ago resurfaced in his mind along with the wrath of his mother. But this time, it would be different. This time, Jack (unlike his mother) would beat death itself.

Watering down the soup again, his wife Gwen looked up expectantly through tired eyes. “We’re on our last meal, I hope you got a good price for the cow.”

“I did. Our lives are going to change forever!”

“Oh Jack. Not the beans again.”

“No, something better.” He pulled out the crumpled parchment from his pocket, spreading across the wooden table.

“A treasure map?”

“Better. I met a merchant in the market. He told stories of far off lands, fantastical tales of his adventures, his travels, a mind older than the wisest man but he’s younger than you and I. This, Gwen will give us eternal youth. We will never die.”

“But we don’t have enough food for the week let alone eternity.”

“That’s the beauty of it. We won’t need food. We’ll be stronger and healthier than the strongest knight. No more empty bellies. No more boiled water for a meal. We can do all those things we dreamed of. We’ll travel, see the world and want for nothing.”

Gwen took some persuading but that was a talent of Jack’s and as the moon rose in a black sky, they set off, leaving their ramshackled life behind. They trekked through the dark forest, following the map, only stopping once for a short rest and to nibble the last of the bread.

The moon cast their shadows across a clearing where a small Romany caravan stood. The merchant sat on the steps, watching as Jack and Gwen hurried towards him. “You decided to come?”

“Yes, of course,” replied a breathless Jack.

“And you’re ready for a life of travel?”

Both nodded.

“And never to be hungry again?”

“Yes,” replied Jack. “And the eternal life.”

“Yes, yes, of course eternal life.”

“What happens now?” asked Gwen, a little tremble in her voice.

“Come in, out of the cold and I’ll begin.”

Jack and Gwen followed him inside. The space was small and cluttered. Candles, potions, pans, books, marionettes, masks and hats filled shelves, hung from the ceiling and littered the floor. The merchant handed each of them a cup of tea.

“You have quite an interesting home,” Gwen said, sipping her hot, sweet tea.

“And it will be your home too.”

“When do we start?” Jack asked.

“It’s started.”

Gwen and Jack looked to each other; Gwen nervous but forced a smile as Jack grinned back, full of excitement.

“I promised you travel. I promised you never to feel hungry again. I promised you eternal life,” the merchant said, watching them sip their tea.

Jack’s smile faded, as he couldn’t lift his arm. Gwen’s face froze, the merest hint of a smile. Both creaked as they faced each other, stretching out their hands, their fingertips barely touching before the cups fell from their wooden hand.

“There,” the merchant said. “I always keep my promises.” He picked up his newly acquired marionettes and hung them up with the rest.

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I dream of sharing my work with the big wide world one day as a published author. Right now, I share flash fiction with a wonderful community of writers and friends. If you liked this story, then why not visit my blog at http://40somethingundomesticateddevil.blogspot.co.uk/ for more. Thank you. Love Lizzie x

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Lizzie Koch Week 184: This Life

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Lizzie Koch’s Picture Choice: 2

Title: This Life

“Mum, can we get a dog?” asked Aidan

“No.” It was the usual short sharp response after giving up on explaining why not the first thousand times.

“Is that a dating agency?”

Jess slammed shut the laptop. “No! Go and tidy your room!” She turned back to her friend, Lisa. “It’s pointless. What was I thinking? I can’t possibly go on dates or meet anyone. I’m too cranky and tired.”

“You need to start thinking about you. When was the last time you dated anyone?”

“I don’t know. Six months after Ian left and that was a complete disaster.”

“And how long since Ian left?”

“Two years.”

Lisa opened the laptop.

Jess received a flurry of interest but nothing clicked. Except one guy. Gavin. He was everything Jess wanted which made her sceptical as why would anyone like that be on a dating website? Tall, handsome, intelligent, chatty, good sense of humour. Single, But there had to be baggage. Approaching forty and on a dating website? Something had to lurk in his past. Everyone had a past. She closed the laptop.

Forgetting her dalliance with dating websites, Jess continued as usual; school run, work, no to a dog. Days became weeks and nothing changed other than the odd night out with Lisa. But Jess resigned herself to this life. If she was meant to meet someone, she would. She worked in a coffee shop where she met people all the time so it wasn’t impossible. Other than people barely had time to make eye contact with their order let alone chat.

It was a dreary afternoon. Having to stand in the cold and wet, watching Aidan play football wasn’t the ideal Saturday afternoon. Infact this life sucked. But it was Jess’ life. However, she watched with amusement as a small black and white dog ran onto the field, chasing the ball. It wasn’t funny when the dog caught the ball and ran from the field. Aidan ran after with one or two others, thinking it was the best thing to happen in their goalless game.

Jess could do nothing else but follow especially as the dog wasn’t giving up and running further from the pitch, towards the edge of the park. Traffic noise filtered into her head and Jess ran faster.

A screeching of tires punctured the air. She ran, passing two boys who had given up on the chase, seeing a crowd gathered.

“I’m so sorry. They just ran out in front of me,” sobbed a middle aged woman on the side of the road. “Are they OK?”

Pushing through the crowd, Jess choked back tears when she saw Aidan standing, looking unharmed. She raced to him and hugged him hard. The dog barked, sitting next to him as a man appeared to be examining him.

“You need to take care of your dog!” Jess shouted as the crowd dispersed.

“He’s not mine,” the man said, standing, meeting Jess’s angry stare. “Jess?”

She looked at him, knowing she’d seen him somewhere before but couldn’t think. It couldn’t have been the coffee shop as she’d have remembered those piercing blue eyes especially as no one even gave her a glance.

“The dating site?” Gavin said.

“Oh,” Jess blushed a deep crimson.

They moved to the pavement, the dog running back into the park. Aidan followed.

“I’d better get going,” Jess said.

“Sure.” He watched her walk away. “Hey,” he said, running after her. “I know this is quick, silly even but do you fancy going for a drink sometime?”

“As long as it’s not coffee, or in a park or where there’s dogs, that would be lovely.”

Jess walked back through the park, a date secured, Gavin’s number in her phone, Aidan running around with a dog. She smiled. This life wasn’t so bad after all.

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I dream of sharing my work with the big wide world one day as a published author. Right now, I share flash fiction with a wonderful community of writers and friends. If you liked this story, then why not visit my blog at http://40somethingundomesticateddevil.blogspot.co.uk/ for more. Thank you. Love Lizzie x

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Lizzie Koch Week 178: The Tour Guide

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Lizzie Koch’s Picture Choice: 1

Title: The Tour Guide

Millie was bored. The holiday with her parents was boring. The beach but was OK but they insisted on taking day trips to dusty old buildings where her not nearly enough tanned skin was shielded by the sun. Today was another day excursion in melting heat to another dust bowl in the middle of nowhere. Even a gift shop couldn’t make this trip better.

“Hi, my name’s Dom and I’ll be your guide today.” A tall, blonde and gloriously sun kissed man grinned back at the group as they gathered around him, Millie pushing to the front.

Hanging on to his every word, Millie couldn’t lift her gaze from him, giving Dom her best smile. Occasionally, his eyes fell on hers with a flicker of a smile as he spoke with passion about the temple and secret passageways. When they broke for lunch, Millie saw her chance. She wandered over to Dom and sat down next to him.

“You love your history,” she said cheerily.

“It’s a job. I learn my lines. It’s easy when there’s a story behind it.“

“What’s the story?”

“Weren’t you listening?” he asked, raising a brow.

“Yeah, of course.” But Millie’s blush gave her away. She tried to listen but couldn’t focus on the words his silky voice delivered, couldn’t get past his cobalt eyes. But as she finished her lunch, she promised to listen.

The tour disappeared into the building, deep underground. Fire lit torches lined the stone passageways. The group crowded into a room and again Dom’s words floated over Millie’s head. Soon, the crowd filtered out and Millie hung back.

“Have you lost something?” Dom asked.

“No . . .”

“Look, Millie, you’re really nice, but . . .”

“Nice! Nice is not something any girl likes to be called,” she said, sauntering towards him.

“OK, cute. You’re cute but I have a girlfriend.”

“Cute is better.”

“I need to catch up with the group. Without me, they’ll get lost. It’s a labyrinth of tunnels down here. And a tomb. If you were listening earlier, you’d know a jealous tyrant of a king entombed his own sister to die in this very room with her lover. It gives me the creeps and it’s not the right place for what you’re suggesting.”

“Just one kiss,” Millie whispered, feeling his warm breath on her face in the cool room.

“Not today,” Dom replied. “I’m not interested.” He walked passed her. “We need to go.”

Her stomach knotted as as anger spiked from within. What was the point of the holiday if she couldn’t even get a holiday romance going on? The one good thing she’d seen was now leaving the room.

Without hesitation or much thought, she rushed towards him but stumbled over her own tired feet. Her hands grasped at the wall, scraping down as her head just grazed against an unlit torch. It creaked as it moved. Dom stopped and turned slowly as a rumbling filled the room.

“Quick, get up,” he shouted as the floor shook beneath him. Dust showered down.

Millie pulled herself up, wiping the dust from her face. “This isn’t funny!” she moaned.

“It’s not a joke, quickly! Grab my hand. Come on.”

“Why don’t you come in and get me.”

The doorway was growing smaller, yet Millie still stood her ground, a spoilt teenager wanting her own way.

With a sudden rush, Dom charged through the doorway, stooping to get through. His hand grabbed hers and yanked hard. Choking and blinded by the dust, Dom pushed forward, doubled over, pulling Millie behind him and throwing her to the floor, falling heavily on top of her. The room sealed behind him with a thunderous clap and a cloud of dust. Heavy breathing and coughing filled the silence as Dom hauled himself up, leaning against the wall.

“Took you long enough,” Millie said casually, sitting up. “But you really didn’t need the theatrics.” She kissed his dirty cheek before standing. “Maybe the maze next. Would that be the right place for what I’m suggesting?” she asked, giving him a sideways glance as she glided away.

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Like what you just read? Have a question or concern? Leave a note for the author! We appreciate your feedback!

I dream of sharing my work with the big wide world one day as a published author. Right now, I share flash fiction with a wonderful community of writers and friends. If you liked this story, then why not visit my blog at http://40somethingundomesticateddevil.blogspot.co.uk/ for more. Thank you. Love Lizzie x

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Lizzie Koch Week 176: Fallen Angel

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Lizzie Koch’s Picture Choice: 1

Title: Fallen Angel

“I can’t do it anymore. It’s horrible down there,” said Gabby. “Everyone hates everyone else.”

“That’s why I need you to continue with your task, my dear, spreading cheer and hope to those who need it.”

Gabby looked down below, upon humanity, looking no bigger than ants as they scurried around, giving time to no one. In another direction, a war raged. Another, a protest march turned into violence. It was Christmas and not one Christmas song could be heard above the vitriol that flooded so easily from lips that were once innocent and kind.

“They all need it,” she moaned.

“Exactly.” He kissed her forehead, and she was gone.



It was raining. Gabby wasn’t surprised. The weather was growing darker by the day; heavy, black clouds sitting silently, blocking out the sun’s feeble rays. She made her way through crowds towards the park where she began to hear the faint sound of singing. One of her many sisters stood alone, her voice small against the unwelcoming, unseeing crowd.

“I’m with you, sister,” Gabby cried, pushing through the crowd, reaching out her hand.

“It’s too late,” she whispered as a single tear slid down her cheek.

A shrill cry escaped Gabby’s lips as her eyes met the empty eyes of her sister with the tear frozen on her grey cheek. The warmth her sister had was gone as Gabby’s hand touched cold, hard stone.

The hatred around Gabby caused the stone to crack. The face that always smiled started to crumble and the stone angel toppled and fell at Gabby’s feet, splitting in two.

No one noticed.

No one cared.

A tussle broke out a few feet from Gabby, fighting over a bag of shopping. More people joined in, like it was a sport.

“Father” please let me come home,” she shouted, looking up to the heavens, somewhere above the thick, angry clouds.



“My dear, I had no idea it was so bad down there,” he said, placing an arm around her.

“It’s worse. This is all I could get,” she said, showing the stone face of her sister. “The hatred down there is killing us. What do we do?”

“Nothing.” He exhaled deeply, his shoulders hunched. “It is too late for them.”

Gabby looked down along with her father as he called back his surviving angels. With no angels left on the earth, they looked down in horror as human turned on human and tore each other apart.

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Like what you just read? Have a question or concern? Leave a note for the author! We appreciate your feedback!

I dream of sharing my work with the big wide world one day as a published author. Right now, I share flash fiction with a wonderful community of writers and friends. If you liked this story, then why not visit my blog at http://40somethingundomesticateddevil.blogspot.co.uk/ for more. Thank you. Love Lizzie x

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Lizzie Koch Week 174: Target Practise

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Lizzie Koch’s Picture Choice: 1

Title: Target Practise

“You were supposed to pull the trigger. What happened?” Maxwell asked, taking the gun from Zoe’s hands.

“I . . . I couldn’t do it. It’s a harmless bird.”

With a splintering crack, an explosion of feathers filled the air before floating down.

“It wasn’t real. It was a test. If you can’t kill a stuffed animal, what good are you?” asked Maxwell, turning the gun on Zoe.

“I’m not a psycho serial killer, working my way up from animals to humans. I will have no problem killing the bad guys!” Staring down the barrel of a gun belied her confidence but she stood firm.

“Here,” Maxwell said, offering her back the gun. “Maybe another method in killing is your style.”



Becoming an assassin wasn’t something Zoe asked to do or wanted to do but her choices were limited; to die in prison or work for these people who she knew nothing about. But she took the deal. She didn’t want to rot in jail for something she didn’t do other than getting on the wrong side of Maxwell in a bit of road rage madness.



She watched Maxwell talk with a colleague. Talking about her leaving by his glances her way. She saw the deep furrow on his forehead, shaking his head like she was a disappointment. She had to up her game. It was a sodding bird! A stuffed bird! Why didn’t she shoot the sodding bird? Second chances were rare and prison life was not something she was made for.



Maxwell turned his back on his colleague, walking back to Zoe, a faint smile on his otherwise stern face. He reached into his pocket.

Zoe’s breath caught in her throat.

Her fingers gripped tight around the gun.

She smiled, lifting her gaze, remembering what she’d been taught but Maxwell would know that, was expecting everything she did. Panic rose. She swallowed bile. A split second later, her arm was raised, the gun pointing. A shot shattered the tense silence.

Maxwell hit the floor, a crumpled heap as Zoe lowered her arm.

The bullet met its target, she was sure but the first rule of her training was never to assume anything.



Heading towards her target, she passed Maxwell, a quick glance told her he was breathing, just a trickle from a flesh wound on his ear as the bullet grazed past. She pressed a finger to his colleague's neck. Nothing. But then the hole in his forehead told Zoe all she wanted.

“I ought to blow your brains out right now,” Maxwell said, standing behind her, the muzzle of a gun pressing hard into her skull. “But humour me.”

“He was going to kill you. He reached for his pocket, I saw the look on his face, the look you warned me about. I saw his eyes, fixed on you. He wanted you dead.”

The pressure released in the back of her head. Zoe exhaled loudly. He reached into the pocket, pulling out the small pistol.

“My guess is he was going to blame me or kill me too. Do you know why he wanted to kill you?”

“Yes. Internal politics, nothing for you to worry about. I guess I underestimated you Zoe. I won’t be doing that again,”

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Like what you just read? Have a question or concern? Leave a note for the author! We appreciate your feedback!

I dream of sharing my work with the big wide world one day as a published author. Right now, I share flash fiction with a wonderful community of writers and friends. If you liked this story, then why not visit my blog at http://40somethingundomesticateddevil.blogspot.co.uk/ for more. Thank you. Love Lizzie x

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Lizzie Koch Week 172: The Secret Ball

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Lizzie Koch’s Picture Choice: One

Title: The Secret Ball

Ella knew it was wrong but she had been suspicious of the annual ball for a few years now so when Beckie’s invite arrived invite post, Ella took it for herself. It was the only way to see for herself, to report on this secret but highly sort after event. No amount of digging could unearth anyone who had attended one of these super Royal balls and now Ella could report from the inside.



Layers of pale blue tulle and silk bellowed around her as she sat in the taxi, placing the silvery blue eye mask over her face. She wasn’t sure how people were selected for the ball and Ella was similar in height and hair colour to Beckie as well as age but the mask was a relief and security for Ella as she walked through a tall stone arch towards the lavish building.



A thick red carpet blanketed marble steps to the main entrance where a tall man stood. Without a word, he took Ella’s invite, giving her the once over before setting his eyes on hers. His stare seemed to go on for ages and Ella could feel her nerves starting to fray. But with a nod, he let her pass.



The ball had already started as Ella stood at the top of the stairs looking down at all the pretty dresses twirling around the dance floor. A hand took her elbow gently.

“May I have this dance?”

Ella turned. She felt her cheeks blush at the impossibly beautiful masked face staring back. Through the black bejewelled eye mask, steel blue eyes sparkled. Without waiting for an answer, he lead Ella to the dance floor, placing a hand firmly around her waist.

“You waltz?”

“Yes,” Ella replied. She thought she’s take a few classes in preparation for the ball and as he took her hand she found herself gliding across the floor. All the questions she wanted to ask remained in her head as the dance and the man captivated her. And she was quite out of breath by the end.

“Drink?” he asked, leading her to the bar. He handed her a flute of champagne.

She sipped it, trying not to gulp it down, keeping her eyes on the man. It was then she noticed the Royal crest on his collar, and reddened deeply.

He smiled. “What’s your name?”

“I thought you’d know seeing as you invited me.”

“My staff sort the invites. The same thing every year. A ball full of young men and women, all gorgeous, all full of life with their lives’ ahead of them.”

“And what’s it all in aid of?”

“It’s rather old fashioned. To find me a wife.”

Ella spluttered. “Sorry,” she said, wiping the drink from his lapel. “It is rather old fashioned and very Disney,” she laughed nervously.

“I like old fashioned. I’ve been around a bit and don’t care for change.”

She regarded him; his smooth young face beneath the mask, sculptured cheeks and flawless skin. “Remind me to get whatever it is you use. You look amazingly young, well younger than you’re making out.”

“Thank you for the compliment. And if I may give you one? You seem to fit in well, looking like a Disney princess in your gown.”

“There’s quite a bit of it.” She laughed, smoothing down her dress.

“I like it . . . I like you.” He leaned in towards her, inhaling deeply as his lips grazed her cheek. He pulled back. “Sorry.”

“No, don’t be.” Ella forgot all about her investigation into the secret balls as she gently kissed him on his lips.

“Do you believe in love at first sight?” he asked.

“Yes,” she whispered, kissing him again.



A scream pierced the moment and Ella tried to look around her. But darkness enveloped her along with a sudden rush of air. Still in the grip of the man’s arms, Ella looked up and found herself in the gardens, sprawled across the damp grass.

“How did we get here? What’s going on?”

“I don’t want you to see what’s going on in there.”

It was then Ella heard the terrified screams, magnifying by the second.

“We need to help them. I need to call the police.”

“No you don’t. What you need to do is make a choice.” He knelt down beside her, taking off his eye mask revealing his full beauty. His finger traced her cheek, along her chin, and tilted her head up towards him. His lips met hers as gentle and as cold as a snowflake before hunger got the better of him, crushing her lips to his. “Make a choice,” he mumbled.

“And it will stop? The screaming will stop?”

“Yes, No more balls, no more hunting for a wife, if you say yes.”

“But I’m not who you think. I’m Ella, not Beckie. The invite wasn’t meant for me. I stole it.”

“I don’t care.” His lips ran down her neck, the smell of her blood fuelling his excitement. “But I need to know now.”

“The people in there, they’re not leaving are they?”

“You know the answer to that.”



He stared into her eyes and smiled as her hand reached up to his face; silky smooth and cold. So cold. He could hear her heart thump loudly against her chest, could see the curiosity in her eyes, the lust oozing from every pore. He didn’t need an answer and couldn’t wait as he lunged forward, kissing her neck, listening to her moan with pleasure then pain. He ignored it, continuing to feed, her body growing limp. Pulling away, Ella fell to the grass, her heart beat shallow, almost gone.

“My beautiful Ella,” he whispered, offering her his punctured wrist. “Welcome to the family,” he said as she drank.

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Like what you just read? Have a question or concern? Leave a note for the author! We appreciate your feedback!

I dream of sharing my work with the big wide world one day as a published author. Right now, I share flash fiction with a wonderful community of writers and friends. If you liked this story, then why not visit my blog at http://40somethingundomesticateddevil.blogspot.co.uk/ for more. Thank you. Love Lizzie x

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Lizzie Koch Week 168: The Promise

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Lizzie Koch’s Picture Choice: 2

Title: The Promise

It was the promise after the many miles trekking, the spilt blood, the loss of friends. Starting out as one of ten, ending with just me. I pondered the stairway. So many times I’d been told safety lay beyond that hill, a thriving community, civilisation. I needed that. Looking up the hill, I counted the minutes, hours and days where I hadn’t seen a soul, not heard a word uttered. I craved company. Loneliness was now my enemy more so than the virus that tore at every thread of society. It stole my family, ate away at my friends. They were the fabric of my life, and without them I was naked, starved and dare I admit, slowly going mad.

But the stairs lay in front of me. With the love of my family and the support of friends, I took the first step. With every buoyant step, I was closer to my new life. The thought of rejection never entered my mind. Why would they reject a fit, healthy, skilled human? Still. I ran through my skillset; some I’d never thought I’d ever have to do in my life but skills I learnt very quickly to survive. I had blood on my hands that no amount of washing would ever cleanse.

Halfway up, I took a quick break, swigging heartily now on the little water I had left, surveying the view. In my old life, this hike would have been a day out with the kids, maybe a bit of sketching, definitely some family pictures and flying a kite. A small smile crept across my face at those wonderful thoughts.

Thoughts that could never be.

Marching onward, I cursed my reverie. It was weak. Weakness was my enemy second to loneliness. Weakness was a distraction which would kill me. I had no idea what these new people were like but if they’d been through only half the hell I’d experienced, they’d not show me one ounce of respect for my weak and pathetic life.

The final step. My legs felt like lead but I allowed euphoria to swell within. To converse, to laugh at a bad joke, to be part of something with someone, anyone.

I took my time at the final step, stretching up, glancing back at what I’d overcome. It felt like crossing the threshold would leave everything behind, everyone behind. But this was my life now.

The fence was a good sign; tall and strong. I walked along it, my pounding heart the only sound until I reached a gate. An open gate. A thump, thump, thump sound filled my head but I couldn’t see anyone. I realised it was my heart, racing at what my eyes were seeing. Nothing.

Nothing.

No one.

I was alone . . .

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Like what you just read? Have a question or concern? Leave a note for the author! We appreciate your feedback!

I dream of sharing my work with the big wide world one day as a published author. Right now, I share flash fiction with a wonderful community of writers and friends. If you liked this story, then why not visit my blog at http://40somethingundomesticateddevil.blogspot.co.uk/ for more. Thank you. Love Lizzie x

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Lizzie Koch Week 166: Ramblings From a Macabre Mind

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Lizzie Koch’s Picture Choice: 1

Title: Ramblings From a Macabre Mind

I couldn’t stand the way John kept tapping my head as he walked passed with his pen.

“Use your head,” he’d say. “Gotta reach those targets.” Or “Exercise your brain, don’t want a walnut rattling around in there.” Again with the tapping.

I hated him.

So I used my head. Exercised my brain.

Funny what you can come up with when you put your mind to it. John was right on that score. I expected his brain to be different to mine, some supersized brain swollen with ideas, but it looked like most pictures I’d seen, at least the bits hanging off the end of claw hammer did . . .

As well as laziness, I suffered an overactive imagination. Suffered wasn’t strictly true. I loved what my (sometimes warped) mind came up with. I was always conjuring up new and wonderfully gory ways to do John in. He was that kind of person. But that’s all it was, imagination which I wrote down. One day, my dream to write for a living would happen. But until then, I would suffer John’s idea that my head was a drum.

My ideas even spawned a game, over lunch where we would all come up with John’s gruesome and often bloody demise. But I won; every time. It was the way I delivered it where they could hear the skull crack, feel the blood splatter and see the stoved in head where flesh and bone used to be. It was my gift. Words.

Until I had none. No one uttered a word; the effect of shock did that when someone you knew had been brutally murdered as he slept soundly. John. Words escaped my muddled mind, disappearing into the ether as the news sunk in.

But I wasn’t silent at my arrest. Profanities flew wildly like birds in a storm. My notebooks were thrust in front of me as evidence. My colleagues witnesses to my thoughts because I foolishly paraded my talent.

But my alibi, my sweet, sweet alibi, Cassandra, who I’d only been seeing for a month, was there to meet me when the police had to accept my innocence, accept my notes and stories as nothing but the ramblings from a macabre mind.

And that was the perfect murder. The office weirdo, the lazy but creative one. The one who did take the hammer to John’s soft flesh after shattering his skull into fragments, just as I had written. The one who started dating Cassandra purposely as an alibi; plied with alcohol and a sneaky sleeping tablet, she was oblivious to my absence. I’d tried and tested it, planting the idea in her bubble head that she always forgot what we got up to and then slept like the dead because she couldn’t handle her drink.

I’m still with Cassandra. One never knows when one may need to rid the world of annoying people like John. And my ideas are growing.

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I dream of sharing my work with the big wide world one day as a published author. Right now, I share flash fiction with a wonderful community of writers and friends. If you liked this story, then why not visit my blog at http://40somethingundomesticateddevil.blogspot.co.uk/ for more. Thank you. Love Lizzie x

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Lizzie Koch Week 164: The Tracks

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Lizzie Koch’s Picture Choice: 2

Title: The Tracks

Get to the tracks!

Follow the tracks!

And you’ll be safe.

Free from the hunters.

The words tumbled around Walter’s head as he blindly stumbled upon the tracks, sweat dripping down his pallid face. Barely able to lift his feet, he stumbled and fell, his hands hitting the jagged stones and splintered wood, cutting into his skin.

A surprised laugh escaped his cracked lips as he slid his bloodied hands along the rails.

The tracks.

He’d reached the tracks.

Safety was his.

He’d survived.

He stood, inhaling deeply and began to walk, allowing himself to relax. They said he’d never make it, would die trying or they’d catch him.

He laughed again, This time a full belly laugh as he knew he’d outwitted the hunters, out ran the men who judged him, who sentenced him. Now he was free.

He carried on walking along the deserted tracks, wondering when they would end, where they would end as they stretched out as far as he could see.

Glancing behind him, he saw the hills he had scrambled over and hurled himself down. On the ridge stood the hunters. They didn’t move. Walter could feel their gaze upon him but he laughed.

He’d beaten them. He, Walter the hunted had beaten the hunters. The first to do so.

“I beat you!” he shouted, punching the air. “I beat you! All of you!”

His head swam with thoughts of his freedom, with what he could do. They’d never find him, always two steps behind him, mopping up his grisly mess, his mass of victims providing trophies that spurred him on. He would become the hunter again.

Wrapped up in his success, he didn’t see the tracks disappear until his feet began to sink. His head spun, looking for something to grab hold of, grabbing at the dirt. It ran through his fingers like air. Deeper he sank, up to his waist.

He turned to the hills. The hunters stood and watched as Walter sank deeper, up to his chest, squeezing his ribs like a vice, crushing his lungs as he gasped for air.

Then they were gone.

Sand filled Walter’s mouth, his nose, his lungs bursting to breathe.

Surrounded in darkness, Walter slipped beneath the earth, his hunting days extinguished under the still sands of the abandoned railway track.

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I dream of sharing my work with the big wide world one day as a published author. Right now, I share flash fiction with a wonderful community of writers and friends. If you liked this story, then why not visit my blog at http://40somethingundomesticateddevil.blogspot.co.uk/ for more. Thank you. Love Lizzie x

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Lizzie Koch Week 162: Finding Me

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Lizzie Koch’s Picture Choice: 2

Title: Finding Me

Twenty years I’ve wasted. Twenty years thinking what we had was love. Twenty years of smiling at your crappy jokes, drinking in your shabby local every Saturday night. Twenty years of cheap holidays to Southend because you were too scared to fly. I didn’t mind Southend really. It was you. Took me long enough to figure it out. You and your lack of ambition, your lack of emotion, your lack of energy and excitement for new experiences.

I can count on one hand the times you said you loved me and meant it, actually meant it. And that was well over fifteen years ago. The rot set in and you didn’t even notice. You never batted an eyelid when my girls nights out ended later and later. Then I stayed out all night and still you never commented. Just as long as I was there to cook your breakfast and fetch you the daily paper which you buried your head in for most of the day.

And now, when I tell you I’ve had enough and am leaving you, you sit in front of me with your puppy dog look and beg me to stay, telling me you love me with all your heart. Well, you can keep your miserable, shrivelled, empty heart because I’m leaving.

I closed the front door behind and inhaled deeply. The sun’s rays enveloped me, kissing my skin, banishing my dreary existence. I felt alive.

A horn sounded and my heart swelled when I saw you, the one who captured my heart and unlocked it. The one who rescued me and let me find me.

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I dream of sharing my work with the big wide world one day as a published author. Right now, I share flash fiction with a wonderful community of writers and friends. If you liked this story, then why not visit my blog at http://40somethingundomesticateddevil.blogspot.co.uk/ for more. Thank you. Love Lizzie x

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Lizzie Koch Week 160: The New Boy

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Lizzie Koch’s Picture Choice: 1

Title: The New Boy

Feathers were ruffled when Jackson, the new boy walked into class. College just got exciting for Maddie and her clique. She gave him her best smile, meeting her sparkling blue eyes, flicking her blonde hair off her shoulder as he sat at the desk next to her. He returned a courteous smile then turned to his books.

The next few days, Maddie made it her mission to bump into Jackson and get him talking. But all he did was smile, and walk off. As if that wasn’t enough, she saw him giving more than the time of day to April. April, a loner, a weirdo in Maddie’s eyes.

“How have those two become such good friends?” Maddie asked.
“They both work at the kennels,” replied Marie, touching up her lip gloss.
“How do you know that,” Maddie asked.
“My dad stopped by to look at getting me a dog. He’s known I’ve wanted one for ages but haven’t been allowed. Now my parents are separated, he figures he can do what he wants where I’m concerned. Anyway, I saw them both there working. Maybe you should get a dog.”
“Maybe I will,” Maddie replied, before marching off.

At the kennels, Maddie walked around, not interested in the dogs at all.
“Hi,” Jackson said, the first time he instigated conversation,
“Hi, I didn’t know you worked here.” Maddie smiled brightly through freshly glossed lips.
“Yeah, I do my bit to help out. So you’re looking for a dog?”
“Yeah but I hadn’t realised there were so many. Maybe you could help me?”
“Sure. What do you have in mind?”
Maddie shrugged. “I don’t know. I figured, I’d know when I saw it.”
Jackson gave her a grin as he pushed back his dark hair from his face. “Maybe the dog will choose you,” he said.

The afternoon was fantastic as Maddie spent the entire time with Jackson, not really paying attention to the dogs. Any one of them would do. Her mum could walk it. She had no intention of actually choosing one there and then anyway; a few visits to the kennels and Jackson would forget about her wanting a dog and ask her out.

But he didn’t. And on the fourth afternoon, April ended up showing Maddie around as Jackson was busy.

“Are you and Jackson going out?” Maddie asked.
“No, just friends. Why?” asked April
Maddie shrugged.
“If you want him to be interested in you, you have to stop faking your love of dogs.”
“It’s not fake!”
“Sure it is. Look, I know what you say about me. I know you think I’m weird. I probably am but if you ask nicely, I could help you.”
“How?”
April dug into the front of her apron and pulled out a small purple bottle. “My nan made this. It’s a herbal medicine.”
“And?”
“Well, I asked her to make it for you. I knew what you were up to, I know you want Jackson.”
“And what do you want?” asked Maddie, eyeing the glass bottle.
“To be accepted, to be your friend, part of your group.”
“What will this medicine do?”
“It’ll get you want you want.”
“Why don’t you take it then?”
“Fine.” she took off the stopper and raised it to her lips. A tiny drop touched them.
Maddie snatched it, gulping it down. “I want Jackson to like me, want me.” she said. “Thanks April. Meet me at lunch and please, wear something at least from this century.”

Lunchtime, and Maddie was nowhere to be seen. April wore a bright new outfit and was instantly noticed by Marie. She fitted in like she’d been part of the group forever. By the end of the day, April had been invited to a party that night with Marie. They left college together and saw Jackson at the gate.
“Hi,” said April. “Missed you today.”
“Yeah, I was kinda busy. You look different.” He noticed April’s face fall. “I meant nice, you look nice. But don’t come to the kennels like that.” he smiled.
“Who’s your friend?” April asked.
“Ah, this is gonna sound strange, but you know I’ve always wanted a husky? This beautiful girl showed up at my house this morning. She looks kinda familiar, I know it sounds stupid.”
“No, it doesn’t,” said April, grinning as she stroked the husky, looking into her blue eyes. She nuzzled into the dog, “I told you you’d get what you want. Shame you had to end up like this.” She jumped up, linking an arm into Jackson and another into Marie’s as they strolled down the road with the husky lapping at their heels.


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I dream of sharing my work with the big wide world one day as a published author. Right now, I share flash fiction with a wonderful community of writers and friends. If you liked this story, then why not visit my blog at http://40somethingundomesticateddevil.blogspot.co.uk/ for more. Thank you. Love Lizzie x

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Lizzie Koch Week 156: Photoshoot

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Lizzie Koch’s Picture Choice: 1

Title: Photoshoot

“Smile Saffron. You’re supposed to be warm, inviting, sexy,” snapped Archer. “All I’m getting is frosty.”

“Perched on top of a milk churn isn’t what I’d call sexy,” she mumbled before turning her gaze back to his lens. She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes and Archer saw it. His cold stare sent chilled ripples down her back as he approached.

“Take this,” he said, gently touching her hand. “And when you come back, I want to see you smiling and giving the punters what they expect.”



Biting back the tears, Saffron gazed upon her distorted reflexion in the cracked mirror, a true reflection of her life which was miles apart from the shots Archer took. That was fake, all fake but she couldn’t leave. She had nowhere to go, no money, no family. Nothing. She looked at the mirror, grabbed it with both hands, yanked it off the wall and threw it to the floor. Shards of glass splintered her legs but she didn’t care. Pain was all she felt. The rest of the time she was empty. Taking a step, her bare foot crunched down on a large shard. She watched as red trickled across the floor, pooling around the glass.



It wouldn’t take long, she thought as she bent down, lifting up a thin triangular shard. She’d feel pain for the last time then no more. It was the only release.

She ran the glass gently up her arm with a trembling hand, her fingers clammy. Her grip tightened. She inhaled deeply.



“Don’t!”

Saffron jumped, dropping the glass as Jade stood before her.

“He’s not worth it, please don’t leave me here.”

“I can’t do it anymore, Jade. I can’t.”

“Then don’t.”

“Archer won’t accept that. You know what he’s like. The only way out is to end it.”

“No, it isn’t,” Jade said quietly, sitting next to Saffron on the strained lino floor. She took the glass from her hand. “Don’t you think he’s taken enough from us?”

“Exactly. There’s nothing left.”

“Survival, Saffron, That’s what’s left. You and me. We’re a team. We can do this.”

“Do what?”

“Get rid of Archer,” she said flatly as she wrapped her arm around Saffron. “We get rid of him for good and then we’re free.”

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I dream of sharing my work with the big wide world one day as a published author. Right now, I share flash fiction with a wonderful community of writers and friends. If you liked this story, then why not visit my blog at http://40somethingundomesticateddevil.blogspot.co.uk/ for more. Thank you. Love Lizzie x

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Lizzie Koch Week 154: New Friends

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Lizzie Koch’s Picture Choice: 2

Title: New Friends

She knew about the cheating. Knew every syllable leaving his lips so easily was full of deceit. But it was the way he breezed in with his lopsided grin and graze on her cheek, passing as a kiss, that made something within her die. She knew those lips had been all over someone else and he dared to touch her with them after spewing his lies.

No.

It wasn’t even the touching. It was the manner of his touch. He couldn’t even be bothered to look at her. He couldn’t be bothered to actually kiss her. It was more of a cursory touch you’d give your great aunt who smelt of lavender and cats.

And that hurt.

If he didn’t want to kiss her anymore, what chance did she have when all interest was lost? There was no way she could turn his head, turn him on. There was nothing left.

She watched him sit in his chair, buried in the newspaper. Occasionally, his eyes scanned the pages but mostly they glazed over as the corners of his mouth curled up in his sexy half smile. She hated how his smile still made her want him, made her physically ache for him when he was obviously thinking about her, being with her. He didn’t miss her, want her or acknowledge her as a husband should his wife.

She toyed with the knife in her hands. How easy it would be to slice his throat as his gorgeous blue eyes stared in shock, hers the last face he would see. The thought didn’t even scare her. But why should she suffer the rest of her life in jail for him?

She smiled.

There was more than one way to get back at him, make him suffer for a change. Torture him like he tortured her every single day. She just needed to make a new friend. A friend who knew her husband just as well she did.

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I dream of sharing my work with the big wide world one day as a published author. Right now, I share flash fiction with a wonderful community of writers and friends. If you liked this story, then why not visit my blog at http://40somethingundomesticateddevil.blogspot.co.uk/ for more. Thank you. Love Lizzie x

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Lizzie Koch Week 152: Evening the Score

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Lizzie Koch’s Picture Choice: 2

Title: Evening the Score

Strained and tired eyes squinted through the darkness. Doug hadn’t passed another car for a while now on his long journey south. He hadn’t stopped for a while either but nature demanded he do so. Pulling off the main road, Doug parked in a remote spot and turned off the engine. A heavy silence fell before his ears adjusted to the sounds of the night. He inhaled the cool desert air, enjoying the cricket chorus, the unspoiled starry night and the emptiness.

A series of dull thuds proved a sharp reminder of the job in hand as he marched to the boot of the car, banging it with his fist. Silence fell. Jumping in the car, Doug sped away, back on the mainroad, radio blaring to block out the renewed banging.

Through the rearview mirror, streaks of orange bled into the night sky. Doug was nearing the end of his journey. At least the noise had stopped.

By the time he stopped the car, Doug had to shake awake his cargo, pulling off the tape from her mouth. He pulled the bleary eyed girl from the boot, keeping a tight grip on her trembling arm. Even in her weakened state, he wasn’t going to risk her making another break for freedom. Freedom didn’t exist . . . for either of them.

“Please, let me go.” Her voice was barely a whisper. “Please. I have money. My father has money.”
“What have I told you? Don’t talk to me. I don’t want to know anything about you.”
She sobbed as she glanced at her surroundings, noticing the small, stone, rundown building, a sign above the door a clue to her fate.
“Please, you don’t have to do this. Whatever these men are paying you, my father can double, treble!”
“If it was just about the money, I’d consider it. But it’s not. So stop wasting your breath.” He pushed her forward towards the building. “Forget your life. This is your new life.”

She just had time to see another girl, bruised, frightened and semi naked before she was thrown into a room with the sound of the door locking behind her.

Doug collected his money. “And now we’re even, ” he said, leaving the building without a backwards glance.

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I dream of sharing my work with the big wide world one day as a published author. Right now, I share flash fiction with a wonderful community of writers and friends. If you liked this story, then why not visit my blog at http://40somethingundomesticateddevil.blogspot.co.uk/ for more. Thank you. Love Lizzie x

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Lizzie Koch Week 148: Checkmate

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Lizzie Koch’s Picture Choice: 2

Title: Checkmate

George took his usual seat at the table and surveyed the chess board. It was as he and Ava had left it two weeks ago. She was winning (as usual) and claimed to be only five moves away from a ‘checkmate’. He focused, his fingers clasping his only rook.

“You really don’t want to do that do you?” He looked across the table into Ava’s watery blue eyes then back to the board. Of course he didn’t. She was right . . . again. “I didn’t think so. I can still checkmate in five.” He looked to her again. Her smile was warm, her silver bobbed hair shone in the summer sun, framing her face. He moved his knight instead and her smile was replaced by a frown of intense concentration. “Mmm, I didn’t expect that.” George grinned. Foxing Ava didn’t happen often. He might actually win the game. She moved her queen, checking his king and taking his rook.

As the light dimmed, George, stared at the board. She was right. He was one move away from her convincing win. How did she do it?

“Hey, Dad, don’t you think you should come in now?” Dan said softly. “You’ve been out here alone for a while now. There’s some of Ava’s friends here who would love to talk with you.”

“I miss her.”

“I know you do. We all miss her. Come on.” he placed a gentle arm round his fragile shoulders. “Who were you talking to anyway?”

“Ava. She never liked unfinished games. We were trying to finish it. She would’ve won again, you know.” George stood, the bones in his arthritic knees clicking loudly. He still had his fingers clasped around the rook. Letting go, he shuffled back inside as a gust of wind swirled around, knocking over his king.

Checkmate.

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I dream of sharing my work with the big wide world one day as a published author. Right now, I share flash fiction with a wonderful community of writers and friends. If you liked this story, then why not visit my blog at http://40somethingundomesticateddevil.blogspot.co.uk/ for more. Thank you. Love Lizzie x

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Lizzie Koch Week 146: A snippet from my WIP The Sleepless

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Lizzie Koch’s Picture Choice: Two

Title: A snippet from my WIP The Sleepless

After morning break, we changed for PE. I was raring to go but didn’t like the orange t-shirt I had to wear. Despite the cool temperature, I omitted the trackies in favours of shorts. It suited my running style. However, my shorts didn’t suit my whiter than white British legs especially against everyone else who seemed to have a healthy glow. I wouldn’t care once we started. My legs would redden quickly and probably be covered in mud.

After a few stretches, we were off. The boys had already gone but it wasn’t long before I overtook the stragglers. The terrain started out open but bumpy, and then into woodland with gnarly tree roots creeping across the floor, thick bracken and gorse to weave through and streams to leap. I’d never run a cross country course like it but it was a challenge and I loved it. Quickly, I’d overtaken the bulk of the boys, a few cheers made me smile but didn’t distract me. Soon, I was on my own with only orange markers to guide me which was perfect as I welcomed the peacefulness and abundant bird song. The pounding of my feet, my steady breathing and my thumping heart accompanied the bird song.

The glade thickened, preventing the sun’s autumn rays peeking through. It was like dusk which changed the atmosphere completely. I felt out of my depth and anxious. Which was silly but I couldn’t shake it. As long as I could see the orange markers, I would be fine and that’s all I focused on. I splashed into another cold shallow stream but didn’t care my feet were sodden.

Shadows started to move, gliding across in different directions. I kept running forward, my stride longer. Another shadow. A chill ran through me. I looked around. There was no one, not even orange shirts in the distance. My heart raced and my breathing lost its controlled rhythm. I started swearing to myself, talking to myself, trying to calm my nerves. I needed to escape the darkness. I felt I was being watched, forest eyes upon me. I shuddered, feeling isolated.

Spinning around, turning my head in all directions, I was disorientated and panting. Where were the markers? I didn’t see the vine sprawling across the forest floor until I was flying through the air with a scream and landing with a thump and roll. My knees grazed, pride dented and palms sore, I sat, gingerly brushing the debris from my bloodied knees before rising up, wincing with the pain. Something moved . . . in front of me . . . something black, in the shadows . . . moving swiftly. I strained my eyes but couldn’t see anything. I wanted to walk but I didn’t want to go on. I was sure something was there, waiting, watching. I stood still, listening, met only by a dark silence. I realised even the bird song had ceased. No orange shirts were coming up behind me. None were in front. I was alone in a wood. In the dark. A fear began to creep over me. There it was again, the shadows moving, creeping closer, like a blanket of darkness gliding closer and closer. I tried to scream but my throat dried up and closed. The cold shadow was going to swamp me . . .

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I dream of sharing my work with the big wide world one day as a published author. Right now, I share flash fiction with a wonderful community of writers and friends. If you liked this story, then why not visit my blog at http://40somethingundomesticateddevil.blogspot.co.uk/ for more. Thank you. Love Lizzie x

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Lizzie Koch Week 144: The Miracle Room

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Lizzie Koch’s Picture Choice: Two

Title: The Miracle Room

“And here,” continued the tour guide,” is the Miracle Room.” Noah followed the group in. “This is where Orenda came up with her magical routines that wowed audiences for decades. You may look around but please, don’t touch.”

Disinterested in the mass of props, old, leather bound books and various bottles fighting for shelf space, Noah sat at the back of the room on the threadbare carpet. He was more interested in Danielle. He watched her as she stood giggling with her small group of friends, pointing her polished, slender finger at something of interest on a small wooden table. She brushed her long blonde hair back off her face. Every move she made was elegant, exaggerated to attract attention.

Well she had his.

“I keep telling you she’s way out of your league,” Cameron said, sitting next to Noah. “You’ve got more chance of snow in August than Danielle even looking at you.”

“She might notice me if her meathead of a boyfriend wasn’t around.”

“If Daryl wasn’t around, she’d go out with another meathead. You know the cliques, the unspoken rules.” Cameron ignored the ‘no food’ rule and pulled out a chocolate bar from his rucksack. “However, this is the Miracle Room,” he laughed. “I’m guessing your one miracle would be you asking Danielle to the prom and her saying yes?”

“Possibly.”

“No, wait, you’re miracle would be something gruesome happening to Daryl and the other meatheads. You’d be the only one left. She’d go to prom with you then,” laughed Cameron.

Noah didn’t respond. He was used to Cameron winding him up about Danielle. But he liked the idea of something gruesome befalling the perfect football stars. Maybe one of those swords hanging on the wall would accidentally fall . . .

There was Daryl, siding up to Danielle. He slipped his arm around her shoulders, showing everyone he owned her. Noah knew he would never treat Danielle like property. It annoyed him that Danielle, as intelligent as she was, allowed herself to be portrayed like that, like some trophy. She just needed to notice him. That would be a miracle.

The tour guide began to usher people out. Noah stood, throwing his rucksack on his back.

“She’s looking at you,” Cameron said, “Danielle is looking at you.” Noah looked up and met Danielles’ gaze. She smiled and walked over.

“You’re Noah right?” she said, still smiling.

“Yeah, hi.”

“I’ve seen you around, “ she continued. “What do you think of this miracle room?”

Noah shrugged. “Just a gimmick.”

“You don’t believe in miracles?” she asked, “because me talking to you is one.” She giggled as Daryl walked over, draping his arm around her again. “Yeah, like snow in August,” Daryl laughed. Flushed with anger, Noah tensed up. Being teased by Cameron was one thing. Being teased by a meathead and his perfect girlfriend was another. If they loved miracles so much, maybe he should make it a miracle to have the strength to hurt them both, like they hurt him. His eyes gazed upon the swords, his mind followed.

“Come on Noah,” Cameron said, pulling him away. “A miracle would be finding a brain in theirs,” he said over his shoulder to Daryl. “We’d have to dig pretty deep to find it.”

Without warning, Daryl lunged at Cameron, grabbing him by the neck as he pushed him against the wall. “Maybe the miracle is you walking out of here alive,” he hissed.

“Stop,” Danielle shouted. “Is it snowing?” she asked Noah. Surrounding the four of them was thick, white flakes of snow, tumbling from the ceiling, carpeting the floor. “Is it real?”

Noah, scraped up a handful of snow, moulding it into a ball. “Yeah, it’s real,” he said, throwing it at Daryl.

“Snow in August,” Cameron said. “So this is the miracle room.”

“We need to leave,” Noah said, walking towards the the door, ignoring the snowball fight going on behind him. He reached out a hand, turning the handle but it didn’t move, He pushed the door but it didn’t budge. “Guys!” he shouted. The snowballs stopped flying. “We’re locked in.”

“I’m sure someone will be along shortly,” Danielle replied, throwing a snowball playfully at Noah. She smiled, a smile that would have melted his heart any other time.

“It’s snowing. In the Miracle Room. Like we said. It’s come true. You’re talking to me,” he said, pointing to Danielle. “All the miracles are coming true.” He let the words hang in the air as he stared at Daryl. “If we don’t get out of here, those swords are going to get busy.” Rattling and clanking filled the room. Noah looked at the display of swords, trying to break free. “I’m sorry,” Noah whispered.

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I dream of sharing my work with the big wide world one day as a published author. Right now, I share flash fiction with a wonderful community of writers and friends. If you liked this story, then why not visit my blog at http://40somethingundomesticateddevil.blogspot.co.uk/ for more. Thank you. Love Lizzie x

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Lizzie Koch Week 142: The Truth Hurts

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Lizzie Koch’s Picture Choice: 2

Title: The Truth Hurts

Joel stepped back, admiring his carving in the bark of the old oak. Caitlin slowly traced the lopsided heart encasing their names.

“I love it,” she said. “People will see it for years to come, we can visit here all the time. Something permanent, of us,” she said wistfully.”

“Well, it’s as permanent as nature allows.” He fumbled in his jean pocket. “I thought this might be a little more lasting.” He knelt down, raising the little blue velvet box, prising open the lid. “Caitlin, will you marry me?” The sun glinted on the small diamond, shining like a star. “Say something Caitlin, please,” he said, his heart thumping inside his chest, a slither of doubt creeping in, feeding on the silence.

“Yes!” she squealed as Joel took the ring and slipped it on her finger. She flung her arms around him smothering his face in tiny kisses.



They strolled through the woodland, hand in hand, Caitlin admiring her ring. “How long have you been planning this?” she asked.

“I’ve had the ring stuffed in my pocket for a few days and that moment felt so right, I decided to just go for it. No planning,” he shrugged. “Planning’s overrated. I just said what was in my head. You should try it sometime.” Caitlin stopped and looked at him. “I see you deep in thought and I wonder what goes on in that head, the little conversations you have in there, that whisk you away from me.” He combed her dark hair though with his fingers. Goosebumps burst on her skin. “I love you.”

“I slept with Carl.” The words burst from her lips like bullets, fast and furious, hitting Joel in the chest. “It was a long time ago. I’ve wanted to tell you so many times but I could never find the words. But I can’t lie anymore. Not with this.” She fiddled nervously with the ring, waiting for him to speak. “Say something Joel.” She looked into his chocolate brown eyes, now dark, almost black as his face paled.

“You slept with Carl.” He could barely utter the words, not wanting to hear them again.

“It was just once. A silly, stupid moment of madness.” She waited for Joel to say something more but he stood in silence, his face etched in pain. “Aren’t you going to say something? Tell me we’re going to be okay, please?”

“I don’t think we will be.” Tears sprang from Caitlin’s eyes, running freely down her cheeks as Joel slumped down, leaning against a fence post.

“I need to be alone,” he said, his voice calm but cold.



Caitlin ran over the little wooden bridge, across the stream as a thick mist swirled it’s tendrils of vapour, snaring anything and everything in its path, leaving a coat of tiny water droplets on everything it touched as it suffocated and devoured in silence.

Joel stared at the mist. He saw Caitlin run into it. She didn’t know it was there or what it was. It was a good job the mist muffled sound. He didn’t fancy listening to shrieking panic and screaming. But then Caitlin had already said too much, her words piercing his soul. What else could he do?

He pulled himself up and walked over the bridge as the mist dissipated. The clear blue, cloudless afternoon continued. Something glinted in the sun, shining like a star. Joel stooped to pick it up, extinguishing the light as he shoved it back in the box and into his pocket.

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I dream of sharing my work with the big wide world one day as a published author. Right now, I share flash fiction with a wonderful community of writers and friends. If you liked this story, then why not visit my blog at http://40somethingundomesticateddevil.blogspot.co.uk/ for more. Thank you. Love Lizzie x

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Lizzie Koch Week 140: Innocence Lost

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Lizzie Koch’s Picture Choice: 2

Title: Innocence Lost

What if you die?” Casey asked her father. “Who’ll protect me then?”

“I’m not going to die Casey,” Fynn reassured.

“That’s a stupid thing to say. Everyone dies.” She stared at him, noting a flicker of defeat belying his self assured, firm expression. “I need to start protecting myself because one day . . . you won’t be able to.” She spoke softly. Arguing and shouting at her father never worked.

“Promise me you stay close. Do as I say.”

Casey smiled, taking the rifle.

This was Casey’s world now. She had to learn to fight and defend instead of babysitting the kids. She’d killed her fair share of Biters; it wasn’t easy . . . at first. She had to shake the thought there was anything human left about them. Once she did that, there was no more hesitations.

Raiders were different.

There were two types of human; Survivors or Raiders. Casey’s group were Survivors, trying to make a community, to settle in one place for as long as possible. Defending against Biter’s was easy. It was the Raiders who made surviving difficult.

And they were fast approaching.

They never negotiated. They never showed mercy. They took what they wanted and destroyed what they didn’t. Including people.

“Keep your eye on one target. Don’t change your mind, Don’t hesitate,” Fynn whispered as they bunked down behind the barricade. “You boys OK?” he asked AJ and Jack. They were in Casey’s class at school. It was their first time on the front line too. They nodded.

Silence crept across the camp. Her trigger finger trembled. Waiting was the worst. It seemed like an eternity but she knew the Raiders were waiting for the sun to set which wasn’t long as streaks of red blazoned across the sky, bidding the sun farewell.

“And remember,” Fynn said, “shoot to kill.”

As he finished, the silence cracked. Casey couldn’t decide whether the Raiders were clever or stupid. Raiders preferred quieter methods of killing which meant getting in real close. Up against a bullet; no contest. But noise attracted any nearby Biters and the Raiders were vulnerable. It didn’t seem to bother Casey’s father as he fired shot after shot. Her head felt like it was splitting. She couldn’t concentrate, her eyes ached as she tried to focus on a target. Right in front of her. Stooped and moving quickly, the target was in easy range. She tried to block out the surrounding mayhem, the shouts as AJ was hit in the shoulder.

Her breathing steadied.

She squeezed the trigger.

The target crumbled. Still.

No one noticed. But Casey did. She couldn’t lift her eyes from the body, lying a few feet away. She didn’t notice the gunfire peeter out until an uncomfortable silence descended.

The Raiders were gone, leaving their dead.

“You did good,” Fynn said, resting a hand on Casey’s shoulder. “Real good.”

She was about to reply when a faint groaning echoed through the dark, over the boundary.

“I’ll check it out. Stay here.” Fynn scrambled over the boundary with Jack. Casey watched as they dragged a body back, where Casey had hit her target.

“Is he still alive?” she asked as the man groaned.

“Barely.” Casey looked on as her father stripped off the man’s headgear, revealing a young face who, if things were different, could have been in the same class as Casey. She felt sick. Her first kill wasn’t a kill and it wasn’t a man. “We’ll get him to sick bay.”

Casey wasn’t allowed in but Jack gave her his belongings to search through. There wasn’t much. A few sticks of gum, a bottle of water, a roll of money which was useless in this new world and a tatty music magazine. He liked the same bands she did.

A hand gently shook Casey awake. She had fallen asleep, clasping the magazine. She looked up into her father’s tired face. “I’m sorry Casey. He didn’t make it.” His arms wrapped around her, no longer able to shield her from death, from pain. The last shred of her innocence died with the boy.

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Like what you just read? Have a question or concern? Leave a note for the author! We appreciate your feedback!

I dream of sharing my work with the big wide world one day as a published author. Right now, I share flash fiction with a wonderful community of writers and friends. If you liked this story, then why not visit my blog at http://40somethingundomesticateddevil.blogspot.co.uk/ for more. Thank you. Love Lizzie x

#DailyPicspiration