General Flash Fiction posted June 11, 2016

This work has reached the exceptional level
Flash Fiction Contest


by Ulla

Isabel awoke from a disturbed sleep. She'd hoped for a good night's rest, but never slept well when Christian wasn't at home. This time had been worse than usual, though. She'd tossed and turned all night, falling into an uneasy sleep in the end. When the alarm went off, all she wanted was to sleep another eight hours.

Early morning light spilled into the bedroom, giving the walls a soft sheen. As Isabel slowly woke up, she marvelled at the antique furniture, which always reminded her of her aunt. The aunt she'd loved like a mother, and whose legacy now surrounded her. Well, she thought, she'd better get a move on to be ready for Christian to come home.

She swung her legs out of bed, and was about to stand when the doorbell rang. 'Who the heck could that be?' Isabel, glanced at the clock. Seven thirty in the morning. That was strange. She pulled on a pair of leggings, a cheap everyday t-shirt, and then hurried down the stairs.

The first thing she normally did was to enter the kitchen, start the kettle for a cup of coffee, pour a glass of fresh juice, and then grab a slice of toast with some raspberry jam. She could have done with a coffee right now.

Instead, she stood at the front door, still groggy from her bad sleep.

"Who's there?"

"Good morning, Madam, it's the police. We would like to have a word with you, so if you would be so kind as to open the door."

Isabel looked through the spy-hole and saw a man and a woman both wearing police uniforms.

By the time she opened the door, they had their ID's on the ready, as a feeling of dread swept through her. A visit from the police at seven thirty in the morning could only mean bad tidings.

Now, she was fully awake with all thought of breakfast forgotten.

"Are you Mrs Morrison? Mrs Isabel Morrison?"

Isabel watched the policewoman and nodded. "Yes ... yes that's me. Wha ... what's wrong? Has something happened to my husband?"

"Mrs Morrison, may we come in, please, rather than stand out here? We're sorry to disturb you at this hour in the morning, but we do need to speak with you."

"Yes, yes of course. Please, do come in."

"We are sorry to bring you bad news, but your husband has been involved in a car accident."

Isabel looked from one to the other. This was madness. She had to be dreaming, but however much she concentrated on waking up, the police were still there. She fell into a chair and burst into tears.

"We need you to come with us to the morgue to identify the body of ... hmm... your husband. We are so sorry. Just take your time. Is there anybody you would like to contact before we leave?"

"No, no, it's okay, I think. Please give me a minute."

Isabel went to the bathroom and slapped some cold water on her face. She felt like suffocating, when she looked at her reflection in the mirror, tears streaming down her swollen face. 'How can this nightmare have happened?' She straightened up letting out a deep sigh.

She then went back into the living room, where the two uniforms were waiting.

"Okay, let's go."

They led her into the back of the car and sped towards the town.

Once they arrived at the huge building, the police officers accompanied Isabel inside. After some formalities they brought her through a maze of corridors, and they finally stopped before an anonymous door.

She took a deep breath, and with an effort held back the tears that yet again threatened to spill.

"Are you okay to enter, Madam? All you'll see is your husband's face, which should hopefully be enough for the purpose of identification."

Not able to answer, Isabel nodded. "Please ... please, let's get it over with."

They entered a featureless room permeated by an antiseptic smell, where the shape of a body covered in a sheet met her eyes.

The medical assistant, who stood next to the body bowed his head in respect. "Are you ready?"
Isabel dreaded what she would discover under that sheet. "Yes ... yes I am."

As the cloth went back a handsome face appeared with a curly brown hair, only the waxen colour of the skin told its own tale.

Isabel looked down at the face, and a surge of relief went through her. With tears in her eyes, she turned towards the police. "But ... but this is not my husband!"


Meanwhile, thirty-five thousand feet above ground level, Christian gazed down on to the Pacific. He chuckled when he thought about Isabel. This would be the time when she would learn about his burned out body. He could just visualize her breaking down with grief. He lifted the glass in celebration. 'To Bondi Beach and a new life!'

They would never find him. Of that he'd made damn sure. He'd resigned from the company a while ago, after he'd found the fraudster who'd provided him with a total new identity. Christian Morrison had vanished overnight, never to resurface. He'd paid the guy enough to arrange the accident and a burnt out body, so it wouldn't be a problem either. A sudden feeling of unease washed over him, but he brushed it aside. No, from now on, he would live in comfort for the rest of his life, and without that tiresome bitch.

Christian lifted his glass with a big smile. 'Here I come Australia!'

6 Word Flash Fiction contest entry


975 words approx.

Thanks to cleo85 for the use of the artwork.
Pays one point and 2 member cents.

Artwork by cleo85 at

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