Countdown to Midnight #1: Prowler

Posted by TERESA

As I’ve mentioned before, I’ve been taking part in a flash fiction contest being held by NYC Midnight.  In each round, we were given a location, an object, and a genre, and had a weekend to write a story using all three in no more than 1,000 words.  Well, the contest is over, I made it to the final round, and I’ve submitted my final story!  Winners will be announced on Thursday, the 8th.  As a lead-up to finding out whether I will be winning money for my words, or whether I will be a big ol’ loser, I thought I’d share the three stories I wrote for the contest with you in the order they were written.

PROWLER was my first story, and in my opinion, my least successful.  To tell you the truth, I’m surprised I got anywhere after this one!  To be fair, I had to write this the same weekend I was away in Philadelphia for Wizard World, which is why I only managed a little over 500 words.  I just had no time to write.  Location I was given?  The trunk of a car. Object?  A candle. Genre?  Horror. Here’s what I did with it…

woman looks at trunk


My name is Delilah Scher.  I’m 27 years old.  I’m from Rego Park, New York.  I currently live at 21-49 37th Street, Apt 4B in Astoria.  My parents are Mr. and Mrs. Marcus Scher of Rego Park.  Call them in case of emergency.  My name is Delilah Scher.  I’m 5’8″ tall.  I have brown hair that isn’t usually caked with dirt and sweat.  I’m shivering.  I don’t know where we’re going.  My name is Delilah Scher.  I have brown eyes.  I wear a size nine shoe.  I have a stomach that’s in knots.

I’m in the trunk of a man’s car.

Calm down, Delilah.  Stop talking to yourself.  You’re going to get through this.  He is not going to be the end of you.

I can’t help it.  I’m scared.  And when I’m scared I talk to myself – well, in my head anyway – and there’s nothing I can do about it.

Where are we going?  We must be on the Grand Central.  We’ve been going really fast without stopping for a while.  Or are we on the Triboro Bridge?  We’ve definitely left the borough.  Where are we going?

There’s something in this trunk with me.  It’s moist and cold.  Something long and fuzzy like a rolled-up rug or a blanket.  There could be another body in here for all I know.  I’m going to throw up.  Oh, God.  I’m going to throw up.  Where are we going?

Tears are sticking to my face.  I don’t want to cry, but I have to.  There’s nothing else to do.  My face is dirty.  The rope feels like it’s cutting into my wrists.  This trunk smells like mold, and dirt, and sawdust, and death.

He is not going to be the end of you.

You can get through this.  You can get through this and when it’s all over, you’ll be a stronger person.  Every time he changes lanes, my head knocks into the side of the car.  My head is bleeding.  It hurts.  Oh, God.  Why are we slowing down?

Breathe, Delilah.  Breathe.  Where are we?  My heart is racing.  How long do I wait?  He’s getting bags out of the back seat.  That’s probably the groceries.  The candles.  He promised her a meal.  I heard him on the phone.  He promised her a gourmet, candlelit meal.

He’s been so wrapped up in his date planning that he didn’t even realize that I destroyed the lock to his car.  He’s been so busy talking to her on the phone that he didn’t even notice that the trunk is being held shut by this rope I’ve got wrapped around my wrist.

He probably won’t notice me sneaking in his back door, which he always leaves open because he’s a moron and thinks he lives in a safe neighborhood.  He won’t notice when I slip into the closet in the living room with my can of kerosene.  He won’t notice when I take one of those romantic candles he put on the table for that bitch, the ones he never lit for me, and set his place aflame.

Published in: on October 6, 2009 at 11:41 PM  Comments (2)  
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2 CommentsLeave a comment

  1. Congrats on making finals! Intense story. I’ll keep my fingers crossed.

  2. Thanks, Ulli! I really appreciate it. 🙂 Stay tuned to this blog for the big update!

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