Saturday Story 2023 – Week 44 (It’s Raining Women)
We’re back with another expansion on my Patreon. This one was voted by my patrons last month. Synopsis below:
Andrew is convinced his wife has been replaced by an alien facsimile.
This is a sci-fi mind control piece with a slightly creepy atmosphere that revisits concepts from an old flash fiction tale.
To read this story before anyone else, head over to my Patreon page and become Spell… B-O-U-N-D, too. The minimum pledge for this type of early access is $5 per month.
A small excerpt is available below:
https://www.patreon.com/posts/92296394
It was a chilly November afternoon and the dark clouds hanging above the hospital grounds were threatening to flood the world. Andrew Lawson sat all alone in a secluded waiting room on the second floor of the building, fidgeting his thumbs. One look at his exhausted face was enough to realize he hadn’t been getting much sleep. He was feeling disconnected from the world and most of the people living in it because of what he had seen and heard. The impossible images haunted his mind in every waking moment but things were much worse when he closed his eyes and darkness came to collect his thoughts, so he resisted the temptation at the expense of his already dwindling sanity.
“Come on, what’s taking so long?” he mumbled, his clammy eyes tired of the waiting game as much as the rest of his body. He looked nervously across the lifeless, aseptic room, hoping for a bit of solace to come his way but his thoughts were getting bleaker by the second, almost as if his brain was about to liquefy from the inside out.
He heard the familiar click of Dr. Janet White’s heels echoing in the distance long before he saw her emerge from the end of the hallway, walking towards him. Andrew stood up, dusted some imaginary dust off his red and blue flannel shirt, and looked at her as if she were the only person alive who could deliver him from the madness devouring him whole.
“Well, Dr.? he blurted, his worried eyes desperate for her comforting words. “What have you got for me?”
The fifty-six-year-old dyed brunette stopped in front of him, pristine white coat hugging her waist. She had inquisitive cerulean eyes, a Roman nose, and rosy cheeks, and looked young for her age, with only a few expression wrinkles visible around her lips and forehead. Her smile was infectious and she always knew what to say even when she had bad news to share. Luckily, that wasn’t the case.
(…)
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