Story Profile "Consequences"

I present to you Michelle Birbeck and "Consequences", her premier Pocket Novel.
Enjoy.



I’ve always loved horror, be it films or books, and most of my reading collection consists of horror novels, but until now I’d never written one. Then, three days before my busiest month of the year, I found Pocket Novels. The opportunity to start writing in the genre I loved most was just too tempting to resist.

So I sat at my computer and hammered away at the keys, writing Consequences. Three days later, and I raced down to the library so I could print it and give it to my husband to read. This is my first short story, having only written full length novels before, and it has certainly been an experience writing it.

Celia was looking forward to eating with Nick before he had to leave for work, and had expected the smell of freshly cooked pancakes to greet her when she stepped out of the bathroom. But by the time she reached the bottom of the stairs, she was disappointed, having not even caught a whiff.

“Nick?” she called out, thinking that he might have been distracted. But she heard no reply, and no whispering of his voice to indicate he was on the phone.

Silently padding towards the kitchen, she listened hard for any signs of where Nick was, growing more concerned with each step. The kitchen was as empty as it sounded, with nothing seeming out of place. The island in the middle was clean, all the pancake ingredients sitting orderly on the top, waiting.

Rounding the island, Celia almost slipped, catching herself on the worktop. Splattered across the floor was an egg, its shell in a dozen pieces, its insides smeared across the gleaming tile. It looked to be the only one left, and you can’t have pancakes without eggs.

Believing that Nick must have left to pick up some more, Celia grabbed a couple of paper towels and began mopping up the mess. Could have cleaned it up, she thought. But the more she cleaned, wiping away at the gluey mass, the more she began to worry over the silent house. Surely Nick would have called to her to tell her that he was leaving? Or was that the bang that she had heard? Had Nick called to her before leaving, and all she had heard was the door closing?

Except, she couldn’t remember the door to their new home ever making that noise before. It was a heavy oak thing, but the hinges were sound and moved easily. There shouldn’t have been any reason for it to make the noise that Celia had heard.

Worry wormed its way into Celia, pausing her hand as she cleaned, filling her and eating away at her until her mind began to churn over every sound that she had heard. Had she heard the door? Had she just missed Nick’s call? Thoughts tumbled around in her mind, piling up on top of each other. So when she heard light footsteps crossing the kitchen floor, she let out a sigh of relief.

Standing, she said, “There you are! I was wondering where you’d…” she stopped abruptly as a heavy pan came down on her head, knocking her to the floor.