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  • Writer's pictureCandace Nola

Flash Fiction Friday: Empty Eyes by Candace Nola

The below Flash Fiction piece was originally published in the first issue of the "Cauldron of Chaos" magazine from Red Cape Publishing.

This is the first piece of flash fiction (and only) that I've ever written.



Empty Eyes by Candace Nola

“How long has she been here?” Father Brantley inquired as the nun ushered him along the basement corridor.

“Seven days, Father. Mother Superior did not want her harmed, so we restrained her and sent word to Cardinal O’Reilly.”

The nun pulled a keychain from the folds of her habit and slid it into the door of the small cell. She looked at the priest as he waited, worn Bible in one hand, beaded rosary in the other. His hair was black and trimmed, face neatly shaved. He looked young, but they all looked young to her. Sixty years on this earth, not much surprised her.

“I’m ready.” He said with a nod. As she opened the door, he quickly stepped inside. The nun locked him in with another turn of the key. As it clanged shut, a shrill burst of laughter from the dark corner set his teeth on edge.

“Show yourself.” He commanded, holding his Bible aloft. “Why have you come?” He squinted into the shadows that filled the room; the candles barely illuminated the small cot on the far wall.

“Why have I come, Father?” A voice snaked across the room, slithering with menace as it spat his name. “I’ve come to make you see the error of your ways. For too long, mankind has quaked in fear of the wrong thing. Your so-called demons from Hell are mere tools of destruction that He uses. It is the Angels you should fear! The mighty! The horrible! The glorious. The all-powerful! Humanity has ignored us for the last time!” The voice roared across the small space.

The Father stared in horror as he crossed himself with the rosary clutched in his hand, then stepped back, repulsed, as the body of an emaciated novice dropped at his feet. The once vibrant initiate was little more than an empty husk with crimson hollows where her eyes should have been. Her white habit was covered in blood.

“She has already seen the truth of my words, Father. I have shown her things that no human mind can comprehend. “

Father Brantley knelt beside her, gasping as a death rattle issued from her throat.

“She’s about to die,” the voice paused, “do you wish to save her?” The voice slithered out through the rolling shadows once again.

“Yes! Spare her!”

“Very well.” The shadow flowed across the floor, then became solid. The room burned with a fierce light as the Angel stepped forward, grinning, glowing from within as his wings scraped the ceiling. His eyes burned with insanity.

Father Brantley dropped to his knees, stupefied, and began to scream as his eyes burst and blood poured from his sockets. The Angel inhaled deeply, sucking the life from him and consuming his soul. He began to laugh manically as the empty shell of the holy man collapsed on the floor.

The young novice writhed as the Angel vanished into smoke, possessing her once more as her empty eyes began to bleed.


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