The Scavenger Hunt -Flash Fiction


Once a year the scavenger hunt took place, five teams competed for prizes and bragging rights, Sally’s team was due for a win this year.  The Angry Ninja Whore Beavers had come in third place two years ago and last year they missed first place by 500 points.  The rules were simple, one car, minimum of 3 people, photos or tokens were collected for points, and all rulings were final by the judges. Louise, the driver, pulled into a small plaza with a tattoo shop and psychic.

Both of her tasks got the team 750 points if bonuses were added. Sally received a reading from the gypsy for the bonus and got an employee to pose with the stuffed animal for the other. The old woman was dramatic, to say the least.

“You are cursed, child.” the gypsy said suddenly looking at the tarot cards she laid on the old wooden table.

Cursed? She laughed it off marking the item off as her phone buzzed with a text message.

Tattoo Parlor, now! We get a bonus if you get 2 tats.

Sally walked two doors over and walked into the tattoo parlor.

“Quick we only have 45 minutes to get back to base!” Louise said as she took her arm, they ran to the last door on the right. “We have to all get tattooed with the date of the challenge. Bonus if all of us have last years and this year’s dates!” Louise explained. Sally rolled up her sleeve.

Four hours later the detectives walked through the house, seventeen bodies sprawled out everywhere, all of them dead. Sally sat in the living room her hand covering her left arm.

“Sir, there is something you should see.” The detective walked over to Louise’s body and knelt down. “All of them have the same dates tattooed on various parts of their bodies.” The detective walked over to Sally, “Let me see your arm.” Sally stood showing him her left arm.

“It’s different, the others have yesterday’s date, and hers says 2013.” He commented. She looked at the detective, her voice shaking, “I know.” He looked at her, “What does it mean?” Sally wiped her nose with her hand, “It means I get to live another year, Detective. That’s the curse.”

-Rochelle Foulk

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About The Well

From an idea to fruition, spells, incantations, perhaps the odd parenting advice and sometimes the blossoming of self.
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