By Laura Shell
Little did he know that what was about to transpire was due to the implant in his head.
Jeremy had set up this appointment to show this sprawling fuckton of a house with this pretentious couple a week ago, and he'd been jittery about it ever since, practising what he'd say in his bathroom mirror like a putz.
He'd tell them about the upscale upgrades and then step aside to allow them to peruse the property on their own because you weren't supposed to hover while your potential clients perused.
And so there they all were on that Saturday morning at the sprawling fuckton of a house on three acres on a lake with a dock and a kitchen twice the size of his three-bedroom apartment. Once the couple had done their perusing, they all met in that massive kitchen, and as Jeremy asked the overtly beautiful couple what they thought of the home, he scratched at the circular rash at the base of his skull.
The husband, who looked like Josh Brolin, replied, "It's a lot of house for just two people," and Jeremy instantly wanted to smash the man's square jaw for making him show him a 5,000-sq. ft. house in the first place. Dumbass.
Suddenly, Jeremy's mind went blank. He went to the refrigerator, stood before it, still, statue-like, then smashed his forehead into it repeatedly.
The wife let out a "Yip," like a pomeranian that had been stepped on.
Jeremy dented the stainless steel refrigerator and splattered it with blood like a Pollock painting.
The Josh Brolin look-a-like ran to Jeremy and pulled him away from the fridge. Jeremy wheeled around with one eye looking right and the other looking left. The husband jumped back with a "Fuck!"
Jeremy's arms shot out to the sides in a Jesus Christ pose. Then, his right arm snapped in the middle of his radius, forming a compound fracture. The protruding bone punctured his shirt sleeve.
His left humerus broke, sending that arm dangling.
Both husband and wife screamed.
Jeremy's left shin bone snapped, then his right, forcing him to the floor onto his knees. His head tilted to one side. Drool ebbed from the corner of his mouth.
The couple bolted from the fuckton home, leaving their real estate agent a broken, bloodied, angled heap on the kitchen floor.
***
Two hours later, Jeremy woke, rolled his eyes in circles, and as his vision cleared, he realised he was on a kitchen floor. But not his own. He pushed himself up to a seated position and looked around. He was in that house, the one he would show on Saturday morning to that couple. Why was he passed out on the kitchen floor? What had happened to him? Why did he have blood on him? Why did his arms, legs, and head hurt? Where was the couple? Had they hurt him? Where did they go? Had they ever shown up? And what and what and what...?
Trembling, he got to his feet to look for his phone and again scratched the small round rash at the base of his skull.
About the Author
Laura Shell
Laura Shell has been published in NUNUM, Typishly, Maudlin House, and many others.
Her first anthology of paranormal stories, The Canine Collection, was released this year.
She's a prolific writer and submitter of flash fiction, and the Editor-in-Chief of the Flash Phantoms site.
You can find out more about her work at <https://laurashellhorror.wordpress.com>.
Our weekly podcast features the stories from recently published issues, often narrated by the authors themselves.
Sarah Pratt is an avid fiction writer and a Marketing Consultant.
Merri Andrew writes poetry and short fiction, some of which has appeared in Cordite, Be:longing, Baby Teeth and Islet, among other places.
Tim Borella is an Australian author, mainly of short speculative fiction published in anthologies, online and in podcasts.
My time at Nambucca Valley Community Radio began back in 2016 after moving into the area from Sydney.
Ed lives with his wife plus a magical assortment of native animals in tropical North Queensland.
Mark is an astrophysicist and space scientist who worked on the Cassini/Huygens mission to Saturn. Following this he worked in computer consultancy, engineering, and high energy research (with a stint at the JET Fusion Torus).
Emma Louise Gill (she/her) is a British-Australian spec fic writer and consumer of vast amounts of coffee. Brought up on a diet of English lit, she rebelled and now spends her time writing explosive space opera and other fantastical things in
Sarah Jane Justice is an Adelaide-based fiction writer, poet, musician and spoken word artist.
Chuck McKenzie was born in 1970, and still spends much of his time there.
Alistair Lloyd is a Melbourne based writer and narrator who has been consuming good quality science fiction and fantasy most of his life.
Geraldine Borella writes fiction for children, young adults and adults. Her work has been published by Deadset Press, IFWG Publishing, Wombat Books/Rhiza Edge, AHWA/Midnight Echo, Antipodean SF, Shacklebound Books, Black Ink Fiction, Paramour Ink Fiction, House of Loki and Raven & Drake
Barry Yedvobnick is a recently retired Biology Professor. He performed molecular biology and genetic research, and taught, at Emory University in Atlanta for 34 years. He is new to fiction writing, and enjoys taking real science a step or two beyond its known boundaries in his
Margaret lives the good life on a small piece of rural New South Wales Australia, with an amazing man, a couple of pets, and several rambunctious wombats.
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