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  • Writer's pictureAutumn Shah

October Writing Contest: Cancer of My Id

Updated: Oct 30, 2023

Each month we hold a writing contest for our members, by our members. Writers are given parameters, such as a word count and/or a prompt. Entries are judged and discussed blindly. For October, submitters had to use a randomly -generated image to create a flash piece of suspenseful fiction.

Cancer of My I.D.


Thomas Brown

The yellowed curtain was weathered and blanched. It hung from the ceiling by rust covered nails that begged to brush across flesh, to draw blood, and give the benediction of infection.

What was beyond the curtain sat in shadowed outline, the shape large and fixed to the floor, an ancient clawfoot perhaps? The room contained constructions made of wood, but they had now nothing but rot. It filled the air and as rain enveloped the structure, it all swelled and groaned under its sheer dying mass.

A desire to see what was beyond the curtain was an intrusive thought, unwelcome, but undeniable. My hand inched forward without my consent. My boot made the next step and the boards beneath my feet sagged beneath my weight. I imagined a great hole opening at my feet and devouring me.

The smell that came from behind the curtain wasn’t of wood and slow decay. The odor was a relation to maggot infested desiccation, but on a richer, grander scale. Aroma grew with each step and a tear ran from my eye from the intensity.

My hand jounced at the touch of the curtain. I pulled my fingers back to a fist, then reached for the edge again to pull it back. A shadow shifted on the wall in the gloom. Not mine. I looked to the edge again and saw a hand holding my own, and knew what the smell was.

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