Flash Fiction

"The team at Certys has judged our recent free flash fiction competition. On the face of it, it was a straightforward competition but the twist was that each entry had to conform to a particular genre. The word limit was 150 words and, after much deliberation, it came down to two stories.
The £50 first prize goes to The Best Kept Secret, by Rebecca Dixon Wright, which is truly disturbing (we have slotted it in below so you can read it). The other story in the running was an unnamed one by Liliane Parkinson (page 7, first sentence The outside door slammed), which had a superb twist to it."

It gave me such a buzz to read John Dean's words. Here's the runner-up I submitted.

The outside door slammed. When was the last time Wayne had come home happy? Hayley sighed.
She stirred the slowly thickening custard. The radio played country blues and she could hear the girls splashing happily in the bath.  When the spoon carved a trail through the yellow and the heat escaped in slow plops she turned off the gas. A sudden splashing. There’d be puddles on the floor. 
She sliced the bananas into four bowls. A shrill cry “Mumm...”. The pot hovered over the bowls as she listened. She heard him grunt, more splashing then stillness.  He’d be getting the girls ready for bed.
She poured out the custard drowning the bananas. As she ran water into the pot he came up behind her. He stabbed. She collapsed. A bowl fell. 
Blood pooled around the custard mess. The door banged. He swung around, blade ready.
Wayne called, I’m home.

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