Flash Fiction: “Repercussions”

Earlier this month, a Facebook group I’m apart of started a kind of writing contest where those interested had to write a piece of flash fiction. The two rules were: Entries have to be between 250-500 words, and entries had to be in a letter format, someone writing to someone else. I started right away, wrote something I ultimately didn’t like, and started again. This is attempt number two, but not my final entry. I was (and still am) worried too many people would attempt Lovecraftian horror, which is what this is trying to be. I think I hit the mark, but I also think it’s derivative.

It was a fun little writing exercise though, so I’m sharing it.




Something is wrong. Something happened. I don’t—I think the murders are our fault. The machine, it didn’t work. The Gaussmeter’s were blank, and nothing happened! Not even a spark! But I’ve recently acquired a Geiger Counter and it won’t stop making noise. Gavin thinks it’s broken, but I’m not so sure.

I feel like I’m being followed Augustine, like I’m being watched. Something is haunting me, and I’m scared to be alone. Never alone. But only you know about us, about the machine. All of it must remain a secret!

But the murders. Oh God the murders. I’ve seen pictures, ones not released to the public. These aren’t normal; this isn’t Jack the Ripper’s work. Something else is out there, something worse. Or somethings. The bodies…they looked eaten. So much flesh was missing. I’m told the police are confused and terrified. I am too.

I see things, Augustine, things out of the corner of my eye. Shapes and colors that aren’t there. They follow me around. Even now I feel like I’m being watched, and I’m afraid to look up from this page. There’s something behind me. A shallow, hot breath above my shoulder. I don’t—you must come at once. Oh God please come at once.

We let something through Augustine, something not of this…place. Something that operates outside.

We succeeded at that which we never should have tried.

And the worst part, Augustine, the worst part is I feel like they want more from us. We let them in, but they want more from us. I don’t know what, but I can almost hear them.

Please—come at once. I need you here. I can’t go back to the lab alone.

Your dearest friend,



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