Flash Fiction - Science Fiction Short Story

Over my three years at University, I've been assigned a huge number of writing tasks and written for a number of different prompts. Here is a selection of flash fiction pieces I have written during my time as a student.

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Satirical Science Fiction Short Story

The news hit the nation all at once. Every news station was reporting it, it was printed in all the papers and twitter and Facebook was filled with posts and articles. The UK was in chaos. The Queen was dead.

Out on the streets it was all anyone was talking about, speculating the cause of her death. Some muttered under their breath that it was old age, others announced more loudly that Meghan Markle had definitely suffocated her in her sleep, supposedly she had it coming. Royal family paraphernalia began filling shops, commemorative mugs, plates and t-shirts with the Queen’s withered face printed on them. In the space of a few days new coins were minted with the date of the Queen’s death on them.

In the following ten days flags were flown at half-mast and books of condolence were opened at embassies worldwide, the London Stock Exchange closed for one day, costing the economy billions of pounds. New postage stamps bearing Prince Charles’ image were created and the National Anthem’s words were changed to reflect his switch to the throne.

After ten days of official mourning, every family in the UK was staring transfixed at a TV screen. All sports games and comedy programmes on the BBC were suspended and all the pubs across the nation were broadcasting the funeral. Bottles of Peroni were discarded for a more patriotic glass of Pimm’s with strawberries flown in from Spain.

As a public figure, her corpse was on display for all to say goodbye. Her casket was on a raised stage in West Minster Abbey. The surrounding seats were filled with thousands of mourners draped in black, all of them trying but failing to discreetly peer at the casket, their morbid interest getting the better of them.

Her closest family members sat at the front row, Harry’s startling red hair and William’s shiny bald head raised high above the others. Kate and Meghan sat side by side in bespoke designer dresses. Give it a week and Marks and Spencer’s would be stocking almost exact replicas.

The Arch Bishop of Canterbury began his eulogy, talking about her wonderful character and all that she had accomplished in her life. Some sat on their sofas and sniffled, clutching soft toy Corgis, others tutted at the TV screen and went back to posting memes about the Queen on twitter.

The camera panned to the casket this time zooming in on the Queen’s body. It looked as though she was sleeping, her hands clasped around a small bunch of primroses, her favourite flowers. Then her eyes snapped open, a startling shade of green. The audience gasped in horror, along with the rest of the nation.

The Queen rose into a sitting position and the flowers withered away in her hands like they’d been dipped in acid. Her skin began to bubble and contort as she swung one leg out and stepped out of the casket. By the time she had stood up, her skin had melted away, her hair had receded into her scalp and in her place stood a hideous lizard-alien hybrid. Mucus and slime dripped from her scaly body and her severed tongue flicked around her mouth as she watched the audience erupt in screams, a mass of black swarming towards the exit.

Harry, William, Charles and the rest of the royal family were nowhere to be seen, in their places stood more of the lizard hybrids, and their children no longer children, but smaller lizards who were feasting on the corgis. The doors to the Abbey slammed shut leaving the mourners trapped.

The Royal family began their feast. The final shot left imprinted on the nations TV’s was the room coated in a sea of black and red, before the screen filled with static and cut to black.