Flicker

This is the short story I wrote for the BBC's "500 Words" short story competition this year. It didn't win. Blub. I think the only reason it didn't win was because they forgot to read it. © Angus Milne-Redhead 2013.


The lights were faulty in the 24-hour supermarket. They blinked on and off, drenching the labyrinth of aisles in dazzling light, flooding them with light as bright as the light which illuminated the 'Ainsleys' sign which perched on the supermarket's drab grey roof, and then swiftly withdrawing to leave the place shrouded in darkness. The cycle kept repeating, as the lights buzzed. Flickered.

Skye Morgan wasn't normally awake at two in the morning. But, recovering from serious jetlag after hopping off the Transatlantic plane, she'd found herself with nothing better than do than shopping. She'd never even heard of Ainsleys supermarkets, but that didn't matter.

She had tousled, auburn, shoulder-length hair and a fiery personality to match it. Prowling determinedly through the aisles, she was hoping to grab some milk and eggs, pay for it at the only checkout (manned by a lady in her 50s who appeared to be decomposing, just sitting by the till) and hotfoot it back to her holiday home. She was the only customer in Ainsleys.

She checked her watch. 2:04am. She groaned wearily.

Flicker.

Suddenly she heard a shuffling from the next aisle, shoes skimming the polished floor. Another customer? Although she wasn't an expert in these matters, Skye decided that the shuffling sounded hostile.

Flicker, flicker.

Skye tried to stay calm. The pulsating lights didn't really help. She had everything she needed and now she could head to the checkout.

Flicker.

The shuffling came again. Skye quickened her pace. The shadows danced around her.

Flicker, flicker.

The lights fused, leaving Ainsleys supermarket soaked in blackness. Skye blundered through it, suddenly feeling very cold. Something was behind her.

Flicker.

On came the lights, and Skye came face to face with what was left of the checkout lady – a skeleton, gazing lifelessly at her. Skye screamed and ran back into the labyrinth of aisles, ending up in the frozen food aisle.

Flicker, flicker.

She rested her hand on the lid of a freezer...

Flicker.

… which slid open to accommodate her hand. Skye yelped – she was being sucked into the freezer! She felt herself being enveloped in ice, her brain whirring as it tried to comprehend this surreality.

Flicker, flicker.

Skye SCREAMED.

Flicker.

On came the lights. Permanently, this time. Skye realised that now she could remove her hand. She gasped at the people in front of her: a man in a black T-shirt, three other men and the lady from the checkout. Alive again.

“You've just been pranked on national TV!” cried the man in the black T-shirt. “The checkout lady was an actor, the shuffling pre-recorded and the skeleton's from a museum! Oh, the look on your face!” He roared with laughter.

Flicker, flicker, flicker.

The lights flickered again. “Was that you?” asked the man in the T-shirt – the director – to the lighting man, who shook his hand, eyes bulging.

Skye looked at the director. The director looked at Skye.

They SCREAMED.

I suppose it ends in a stupid way, but I couldn't think of a suitable ending. 'Ainsleys' isn't a real supermarket, I just didn't know if I was allowed to say Tesco or if I'd be horribly sued. It's VERY hard getting a story wrapped up in under 500 words.