Microdosing - 100mg of a Corpse
Spooktober edition — Corpse ☠️
Our spooktober prompt for today is CORPSE!
🎃 Write a story in 100 words! 🎃
Bonus points if the story will have macabre vibes!
Don’t forget to tag me if you follow along with the challenge.
A glance into a mirror revealed my ragged face and two corpses behind me—bullet to the head and a hanging, barely adults both of them.
They called. I did my best. The next day, they did it anyway.
With an aching hole in my chest, I stepped away and saw another on my couch—slit wrist, twenty, whole life ahead. We talked about the future and her dreams.
Another hanged on my staircase. Duke, regular caller, reached six times that night, honestly trying to stop himself—twenty-four.
I walked into the bedroom. The one on my bed kept staring back at me—pills and booze, thirty, a friend of mine. I wasn't at work since he called.
I accepted his gaze, realizing I had failed him. A volcano of guilt in my chest, ready to erupt. Too many dead no matter how hard I tried to save them.
The gun in my drawer kept calling, too, and I wondered—should I answer?
My hands shook, the cold steel rested in my palm. For a moment I wanted to join them and bite the bullet—literally.
Not yet.
For every ghost that haunts me, there are others still calling, waiting for someone to answer.
I’ve almost doubled my dose today. But it has a good reason. The story came out like this on the first go, and I felt like it’s so powerful that trimming words just for the sake of trimming words felt unnecessary. So feel free to overdose yourself today!
Other than that this might be the best micro I’ve ever written.
"THE CORPSE" - 100 words
Dr. Skelton smiled from ear to ear.
“Master,” Skew, his homuncular assistant, said as he palpated the head of the corpse, “when do I get to embalm it!” He sheepishly clapped with open palms.
“I’ve thought of a better idea. Watch!”
Skelton adjusted a knob. Music roared. The corpse jerked. Skew flinched, reeling back with a “YIPE!” The body flew up from its cooling board and wildly danced across the mortuary.
“Master! Master! What deviltry is—wait.” Skew leaned in with one open eye. “I can see the strings!”
“I know. I know. But a mortician’s gotta have fun at least once in a while!”
All Hallows Eve, and I become one with the shadows. I stalk the little ones, creeping through the dark as they wander, oblivious and laughing. I lure them away—far from their pack. It’s not hard, I’m cute. It squeals when I bite its leg, dragging itself, trying to get away. Another bite, and I let it go again. Then another, and it stops moving, blood pooling beneath it. I take its limp body back to my home.
I proudly drop my prize—a mouse, now just a corpse—on my hoomans’ bed. They scream. Dammit, I brought you a gift! Silly pawrents.