Tag Archive for: viruses & diseases

The Last Patient

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by Kristin Lennox

Dr Shepherd gently covered the body, the sheet blossoming red over the eyes and mouth. Exhausted, he spoke into a hand-held recorder.

“Patient 47 entered end-stage I-GRID after experiencing continued seizure activity throughout the night. Death was rapid following complete organ failure.”

“This concludes the Thymenozine trials, as Patient 47 was our last viable participant.” The doctor slumped over the table, defeated.

A single tear slid down his cheek and splashed on the shroud, leaving a crimson stain. He touched it, then pressed record again:

“Patient 48 is a white male, 54 years of age, presenting with mid-stage I-GRID symptoms…”

 

Kristin Lennox

Kristin is delighted to have had several drabbles published by Black Hare Press. She’s also a voice actor, and when she’s not talking to herself in her padded room (home studio), she tries to get the voices out of her head and onto the page.

Munch

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by Liam Hogan

It was easy to catch and we willingly caught it. A disease that consumed fat, leaving us pounds, stones, lighter. Spread by saliva, spread by touch; tables of finger food which the infected browsed before everyone else tucked in. Epidemiologists threw up their hands in horror at these super-spread parties, but weren’t they looking slimmer too? Hypocrites, warning of the unknown, of the need to lay down reserves for times of scarcity, times of famine.

They were right about that. Once it ate through our fat, where was its next meal coming from?

Spread by bites, spread by ravenous munchers…

 

Liam Hogan

Liam Hogan is an award-winning, London based, short story writer.

Website: happyendingnotguaranteed.blogspot.co.uk

Breed

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by Louisa King

Lena couldn’t bring herself to swallow any more of them, despite their sugary coating. Even scorched black and long dead, the thought of them scuttling down her throat persisted. But four years of post-flood crop blight and stem rot disease had left little choice in the supermarkets.

She stroked her nascent bump, picturing his tiny growing heart and limbs. It’s protein, she reminded herself. That night, relieved to feel the first gentle fluttering kicks, she finally fell asleep. She didn’t notice those movements inside becoming stronger, or the papery crackling noise of wings unfurling and the frantic clicking of legs.

 

Louisa King

Louisa King lives in Scotland and loves to write tiny stories. Her work has appeared in Flash Fiction Magazine, Retreat West, Reflex Fiction, and Friday Flash Fiction.