Another quick flash fiction challenge for Write on Wendy. This is a sampling for a story I’m tooling around with. 490 words so I hope someone enjoys it.
“No!” Dalton screamed, while punching the mirror. The reflective glass cracked, a few shards falling into the sink.
“No,” he said again, more a whimper than a rage-filled scream.
His arms, now braced on the sink, began to tremble slightly. Despair swept over him, the trembling increased, and tears began to fall. In the sixteen years of life, he had only wept a few times. Sure, a few tears had fallen, but not like now.
“This can’t be happening to me.”
One of the slivers of mirror in the sink stared back at him, and he saw them again.
“No!” Screaming again he ran from the bathroom. His parents were out, no one was there to stop him, to calm him down, to tell him everything would be alright.
He ran down the hallway, down the stairs and into the kitchen. Confused and lost he paced nervously around the kitchen. His hands fidgeted wildly. He was still shaking, and sobbing, and pacing. All the while he continued to mutter one word over and over, “no.” His despair prevented sentences, prevented coherent thought.
Rage replacing despair he began frantically searching through drawers. Silverware loudly echoed off the tile floor. Cabinets flew open with force.
Not seeing anything to help, he raced out of the kitchen, out a side door, and into the garage.
Through the tears, his wild eyes searched the garage. In the corner he saw a possible salvation. His father’s toolbox would have something to help.
In the third red drawer he finally found what he needed. Holding the pliers tightly, he fell to the concrete floor.
“I can’t believe Annie did this to me,” he muttered to the unpainted walls. “I never knew.” He voice was manic, each syllable gained momentum and force. “I thought she loved me. But no. She did this to me! I didn’t want this! It’s her fault! Not mine!”
His anxiety had tapped into his courage and he thrust the pliers forcefully into his mouth. Finding their target he squeezed the handle until it took hold, then pulled fast and hard.
A crack, a snap, and then a tooth was ripped from his mouth. Blood trailed the tooth as it arched through the air, splattering onto the floor.
Dalton didn’t scream for the tooth was dead. Hollow and dead. Sobbing he removed the second tooth in the same violent fashion as the first.
Blood stained the concrete, pooled around the two very large canine teeth he ripped out.
His sobs turned into a slightly manic chuckle, as he sighed as leaned against the wall.
“I showed her.”
He felt the empty sockets in his mouth.
“Vampires were so two years ago. I am way too popular to be a loser like that.”
He stood quickly, too quickly for the blood loss made him light-headed.
“And once everyone in school finds out about her,” he told the walls, “her reputation is gonna be trashed!”