This is a submission for two different writing prompts I stumbled across on twitter. I managed to fuse them into one.
The first is the #justcreatechallenge created by April L. Taylor (twitter name @authoraprillea) where each day she provides two prompts (one art related and the other writing) to help you create something in the month of October. I provided the prompt photo below and I have selected these words: A. Mushroom, B. Huge, and C. Tug.
The second is from @FlashFicHive on twitter who made the #FlashFicHive where each day, you either tweet an answer for that day’s question or do a writing prompt provided by them. Today’s prompt is provided below and the options I’ve selected are: Elementary Teacher, Laundromat, To Save Lives, and Can’t Read Cursive.
And real quick, I just wanted to add that I think this flash fiction was unknowing inspired by the movie IT and the Netflix original series Neo Yokio. Both I’ve watched recently. Loved IT! Neo Yokio, I just don’t know how I feel about it yet (only seen two episodes). But what I do find fun is pointing out random stuff in the series and laughing. So it must be doing something right (and it’s humor kinda made its way into my writing today). But anyway, I hope you enjoy the story!
Watching clothes tumble in the spin cycle of a washing machine in a dingy barely lit laundromat really does something to a person. My thumb rubs across the top of a lighter but no flame comes of it. I flick my not even lit cigarette into a pile of mushroom encrusted clothes stationed below flickering lights. I don’t even know why I do it, I’m not even a smoker. I suppose it was for a dramatic entrance but no one’s even here to see it. As I step over moss covered laundry baskets, I can’t help but wonder how my simple life of being an elementary teacher has lead to this.
One day I was in front of a classroom of snot nosed brats, helping them read off their ABCs and watching them stumble over the LMNOP part and now I’m trekking through an overgrown possessed laundromat like some sort of exorcist. Well, I guess I sorta am an exorcist even though I never sign up for the job. Sure, I wanted to change lives (at least that’s the kind of nonsense I put on my resume while applying to be a teacher) but I never thought I’d be saving them too and from demons nonetheless. I’ve come to the conclusion that this is one seriously messed up town. Wish my sister would’ve warned me instead of convincing me to move here.
My foot catches on a massive mushroom and it feels more like I’ve smashed it against a boulder rather than a fungi. I stumble forward, hopping on one foot while my other throbs in pain. I grip the side of a slimy wall to keep from crashing down onto the broken tiled floor however, the wet sludgy green substance dripping down my arms makes me wish I hadn’t. I’d gladly take shards of ceramic tile in the knee over this anyday.
I begrudgingly wipe my hands on my brand new silky blush top. So much for being fashionable. I groan as it stains the top and my hands a vomit green color.
Don’t even get me started with the smell it leaves on me. I have to suppress a gag every time it creeps up into my nostrils, churning my stomach and making me relive poor life choices that involve instant ramen and a plastic tupperware. Just for future reference, never EVER leave ramen sealed away for days and open it expecting to “clean it out.” Just toss it in an incendiary. Unless, of course, you enjoy making huge mistakes and smelling like remnants of a possessed laundromat.
I don’t get paid enough for this shit.
When I finally look up, I spot a small bunny like creature with glowing green eyes. It literally looks like it was formed from the moss beneath its feet and from the way it causes the hair on my arm to stand up, I identify it as the demon I’m here to quell.
Damn, why do they always have to be so darn cute?
I pull out my pen, a gadget that can not only writes but also sucks up evil doers, and a small notepad with strict directions on how to catch this demon. Not gonna lie, I feel like a Sailor Scout or at the very least, Buffy. But the feeling doesn’t stay for long. As I open the notepad for the directions I notice it’s all written in cursive. And I’ve never properly learned how to read in cursive. My greatest weakness come to light. Now I feel like an illiterate moron.
Shoving the notepad back into my bag, I make a split second decision. Either I tread back to the front of this dump and walk through the parking lot with my tail between my legs or I let my instincts do it’s thing and tug this bunny by the ears until it’s successfully in my pen.
Instincts says do the thing, so I do.
I clench the pen tightly in my hand as I rush the adorable little creature. It doesn’t even budge though. I think I’ve taken it by surprise. But just as quickly as that ridiculous notion crosses my mind, the bunny’s eyes go dark and it collapses, becoming one with the moss and vanishing beneath by outreached hand. Then, to top my failure off, I slip on the area where the demon was just standing.
Might I add, I don’t even get overtime pay for this.
Slipping on the moss has me airborne for a second, then I slam painfully onto the floor causing my back to crack in all the wrong places. I groan in pain but it’s only temporary. Rolling onto my stomach, I spot the bunny a few feet away from me. It’s eyes are glowing again, taunting me at a distance.
I definitely need a massage after this. I wonder if Carl can arrange one for me but I doubt it. He’s the worst assistant ever, always finding ways not to help me and writing important instructions in CURSIVE!
I push myself up so I’m on all fours then rock back so I’m sitting on my knees. I stick my pen back into my bag. I’m done with this. So what demons run rampant in town and snack on children at night. How is that my problem? I never asked to be an exorcist. I rather make friends with demons than do some ghostbusters crap and suck them up into a pen. Maybe I can keep one as a pet. If I could keep this one I’d name her Mossie.
“Truce?” I ask, sticking my hand out at the bunny as if it could shake my hand. It totally doesn’t but it does hop over to me like a lost puppy, practically hopping itself into my bag and getting sucked up into my pen. “Nooo! Dammit, I wanted you as a pet!”
Seriously, I hate this job. I quit.