The Séance

The séance was just for fun. It wasn’t real. That’s what they said.

Tell that to the dead guy who followed me home afterward. #microstory

– Written for Patrick Sponaugle’s #MicroStory Challenge. Prompt was Halloween. Story must be no longer than tweet-length, including #microstory. WC 24. CH 137. Photo from

Inconsequential Details

“The final phase is nearly complete. Thank you for your commitment to the program, Ms. Lobo.”

But the nights belong to me, I thought.

“Daniella Lobo?” The doctor called my name.

“This way,” He motioned at the double doors.

I anxiously fidgeted on the examining room table. “Doctor, have you read my notes? I have been experiencing some strange…”

“Ms. Lobo, please, let me explain something to you.” He interrupted.

“You signed the contract when the medication was administered. It explicitly states that you are to tell no one about the experiment. If word was to become public, our entire program could be jeopardized. Do you understand?” He continued before I could answer.

“Did you read the possible side effects and the hypothesized results? This is a very serious matter.”

“Um, I’m sorry, not really. I mentioned it to my roommate. I wasn’t well; she wanted to call the hospital, so I told her some things. Look, honestly, I only signed up because I needed the money.”

“Well never mind her.” He said. “We have…taken care of the matter.”

“What!?” I panicked.

A sharp pain in my ribcage doubled me over. “Ahhhh!”

“The final phase is nearly complete. Thank you for your commitment to the program, Ms. Lobo.” I barely heard him over my throbbing head.

I slid to the floor as he slipped out of the room, locking the door behind him.

My insides were burning and bones breaking. I screamed involuntarily while convulsing. Skin ripped and fingers elongated. My face contorted and lengthened. My cries turned into howls.

Metamorphosis completed, I jumped onto the table and contemplated my canine-like reflection in the two-way mirror.

Anger pulsated behind my eyes. I crashed through the glass seeking freedom.

They didn’t see that coming.

But the nights belong to me. At least there’s that, I thought, as I noted a satisfying metallic taste still in my mouth.

176009-horror-werewolf– Written for Cracked Flash: Year 1, Week 39, First sentence prompt was “But the nights belong to me.” WC 300. Photo from