It’s the final year of FlashNano, by Nancy Stohlman, where we write a flash a day in response to a prompt, or just because. This is a quick write, but it was kinda fun. And I just happened to have the right image!

Day 2: “Write a story in which something turns into something else.”

Evie woke up on the edge of the property, a sour taste in her mouth, muscles aching, and her bag of Halloween candy ripped apart, treats smashed and scattered just past where dirt meets curated lawn. Rubbing her face and neck, she came away with blood on her hands and a laceration in her shoulder that stabbed as she twisted to see what had happened to her. There was definitely a mark. Could be a knife slash, or— this thought rustled a shred of memory—a slice from a claw, or maybe even a bite from trying to escape whatever had attacked her.

What had attacked her?

The waking birdcall that came from the trees did nothing to inform her about the previous night’s events. Well, if it was that close to sunrise, she’d be able to see more clearly any evidence of what might have happened.

She was hungry, and so she stretched across to the bag and pulled it to her to see what had been left whole. Sweet tarts did not appeal, the fun sized Butterfinger failed to spark joy, and there was a gob of something fleshy on a full-sized candy bar. Shrugging, she wiped off the goo to read its label, and smiled at its identity: Snickers Classic. This she could do.

She rolled to her hip and then squatted, her jaws chewing at what turned out to be last year’s edition, the nuts a little spongey, the caramel extra thick, and the chocolate dusty-tasting. Still, it was a Snickers, and Snickers satisfies you. She grinned, the caramel sticking to her molars, and hummed the theme song.

A trickle rolled down the front of Evie’s shoulder and began to pool in her bra. She really should be more concerned about blood loss, she thought to herself, but aside of feeling like she was coming out of a bad hangover, she felt good, senses lit. She scanned the ground for another Snickers, but settled for a package of Necco Wafers. Necco Wafers?! Something really bad must have happened to her last night, or she wouldn’t have been even tempted by the chalky mess that she now ground between her teeth. 

She stood and stretched, wiped her hand across her mouth, and applied a hand to her wound in an attempt to staunch and slow the continual drip of blood. Searching the pockets of her cargo shorts, she found a bundle of Starbucks napkins in one pocket, and her car keys in another. The napkins would do for wiping up some of the mess of blood, and the car keys would come in handy if she could figure where the hell she was, and where she’d left her car. She started to walk, squinting into the rising sun, leaving her scatterlings of candy as an unwitting gift to the gods that now possessed her.

***

Evie realized quickly that she was walking on the municipal golf course, and found the clubhouse was just over the next rise. Good. She could grab a spilling-over-full bowl of eggs and a plate of bacon from the breakfast buffet. Follow that up with a saucer of milk. A what? She laughed, and changed her mind for a enormous mug of black coffee. She’d charge it to her dad’s tab. First stop, though, she needed to visit the locker room and clean up as best she could. She didn’t want to attract attention.

There was one woman in the locker room, old Amelia Bangston, who had finished up and was dressing after a shower. She walked every day for 25 minutes, weights on her ankles and barbells in each hand, and she tended to work up a sweat, as she would smugly share with anyone who shared a bench, or a breakfast table with her. Keeping her eyes lowered, Evie attempted to pass the older woman without having to say hello, but Amelia wasn’t having it.

“What are you doing out so early, Evie?” she grabbed her forearm and squeezed. “And what is that mark on your shoulder?”

Reluctantly, Evie met the woman’s eyes, just for a moment, but that was enough.

“So he got you, too?” She let go of Evie, like a hot potato. “I can see it in your eyes, Girl.”

“I’m fine,” She returned, mumbling.

“No. You’re not.” Amelia sighed. “The change is going to come, just like it did for me. You’re one of his, now.”

“His what? What is he? Who is he?” Eyes panicked, voice cracking, the salutary effects of the Snickers wore off. She could feel the crawl of Necko wafers in the lower back of her throat. “Am I going to turn into a vampire?”

“No.”

“A werewolf?” That might actually be kind of cool, thought Evie.

“No such luck,” sighed the old woman, finishing the top button of her blouse. “Sit here by me.” She reached into the locker that held the remainder of her clothing. “You’ve been bitten by the Chupachihuaha.” She shimmied into her short skirt and stood to step into her Vans. “The good news is that you’ll live forever. The bad news is that by midday, you’ll be ravening to bite someone. I can teach you how to manage that, but I’m afraid you’re going to be called a Karen from now on.” She reached into a small paper bag inside her white patent leather purse with the gold buckles, and pulled out a couple of doggie biscuits.

The girl’s stomach growled and a small rivulet of drool rolled down her chin. Enchanting scent; she’d have grabbed the bag if she wasn’t so afraid of Amelia.

“These’ll take the edge off, but you’ll need to stick with me if you want to get anywhere close to back to normal.” Amelia pulled a couple of dog biscuits from the bag and handed it to the girl. “And let’s get you to the buffet before it’s too late.”

© Liz Husebye Hartmann (2025)