“I cant stop it,” he screams in a panic, “it has a mind of its own. What it wants it wants.”
“O ya, but it doesn’t have to get everything it wants.” She has returned with the axe. One swift strike and the possessed appendage is off.
With a thud it falls to the ground spurting a crimson shower.
We stand there, staring, sweat dripping down our bodies. Pills lie cluttered all around. Rheumatoid arthritis had been the consensus. That’s what was causing the excruciating pain and deformation. But then it started. The uncontrollable urge. Until she woke up with a thumb attempting to gouge her eye out. Gouge… pop… devour…
Well, it’s finally over.
And then suddenly…
Suddenly the mutilated appendage starts quivering, turning towards us, crawling, leaving in its wake a trail of blood and slime.
“Run,” I scream. Our feet skid on my blood, but we don’t stop. We wont stop.
Down the stairs, out of the house. We bang the door shut wondering what to do next. Shit, the car keys are still inside.
That’s when we hear it – The door knob turning.
In response to the Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writer’s 131st challenge based on a photo by artycaptures.wordpress.com