Good Samaritan. Flash Fiction.

Sarah paused, the glass of water halfway to her lips, had she heard something? It almost sounded like a faint voice calling out. She took a sip from the glass, then turned to go back into the sitting room, she just reached the door when it came again. She had definitely heard something. She turned and put her glass on the small wooden table, she crossed to the sink and stood at the window, there she squinted into the darkness, trying to see if there was someone out there. The voice came again, still faint but this time she could just make it out, “someone help me please.” She cupped her hands around the glass and peered out, there was no one in the garden that she could see. Her heart was beating heavily in her chest, she reached into her pocket and took out her phone. Gripping it tightly she went to the backdoor and opened it, she automatically turned on the outside light as she opened the door, nothing happened. She muttered “fuck.” It had been out for the last week and she kept forgetting to change it. She peered at the shadows, at the overgrown bushes. “Hello? Is someone there.”
“Please. Help me, I can’t get up. I’m so cold.” The voice was louder now, but it sounded weak all the same. She felt a chill move up her back as she realised it sounded like a child. Still gripping her phone she stepped out into the cool night air. “Where are you, I can’t see you.”
“I’m back here, the man threw me over the wall, I can’t get up.”
Her heart was thudding heavily, “the man?”
“He took me away. I was sleeping and he took me.”
Sarah spotted a small lump at the back of the garden, it looked about the right size for a child who was huddled up.
She hurried over “It’s ok, I’m going to help, we’ll get you inside and I’ll call the police.” As she walked forward she automatically unlocked her phone, the child was injured and needed an ambulance and the police. They’d be able to tell her what to do, if she should move them. As she got closer she could see the small lump was shaking, they were probably freezing in the cold of the night. As she reached them she squatted down beside them, her fingers opened the call app on her phone. She reached out and gently touched their shoulder as she dialled with her other hand. Before she could move another hand was over hers, small but with long, thin fingers and sharp looking nails. Sarah gasped and fell backwards, almost instantly the small figure was on her, thin fingers wrapping themselves around her throat before she could scream. The thing held on tightly until she passed out, then moving quickly it picked her up with one arm, then it scuttled over the fence, carrying her with it. Sarah’s phone lay on the grass, the number still undialled.

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About Alan James Keogh

I am a 26 year old writer who somehow tricked U.C.D. into giving me not only a degree in English and Classical studies, but an Hons Masters in Creative Writing too. Visit my blog where I post short stories twice a week (Monday and Wednesday) and an installment of a serialised novel on Fridays. I did consider writing this in the third person, as though it was written by someone else, but Alan is not comfortable writing in the third person as it seems kinda creepy and unbalanced so Alan decided it was probably best to write in the first person. He hopes it went well for him.
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