COLLECTION OF MY WRITINGS FOR THE FLASH RIDER CHALLENGE COMMUNITY ON LIVEJOURNAL.

In case you don't know how it works: there is a monthly prompt and we all write down the first thing that comes to mind in 1000 words or less. Come and join in – it's always good fun and a great way to connect with other Alex Rider fens.

Title: Splatter
Author: Anne Phoenix
Rating: PG
Summary: Alex's missions are taking their toll on his sanity …
Word Count: 1000
Warning: None
Author's Note: Written for the Flash Rider community's fourth challenge prompt, "Splatter". Beta read by hpstrangelove - any remaining mistakes are mine!

Disclaimer: Any mention of 'Stormbreaker', 'Alex Rider', any associated entities, or any copyrighted material pertaining therein is reasonably protected by the Fair Use Rule of the United States Copyright Act of 1976, and is not intended to infringe upon any copyrighted material. All Alex Rider characters belong to Anthony Horowitz. No monetary profit made on this story.

Splatter

"A flower."

A blossom of blood, seeping, spreading …

"A butterfly."

A falling man, plummeting through the clouds, twisting round, down, down, to his gruesome death …

"A rabbit."

Gargoyle, gargoyle, jumping from the page, teeth bared, terrifying, kill, kill, kill … Alex gasped and shook his head to make the gargoyle go away. It went quietly ... for now ...

Dr. Merriman paused, put down the card and pressed his fingers together, watching Alex carefully. "Are you sure, Alex? You see a rabbit?"

Alex didn't answer. He kept his eyes cast down, too scared to look at the card again, in case the gargoyle came back.

"Okay, then," Dr. Merriman sighed. "We'll get back to that one."

Alex felt his fear drain away as Dr. Merriman put the card away. The gargoyle was gone. Then a new card was presented, the splatter of ink symmetrical, confusing, somehow terrifying … "I don't know."

"Just try. Do you want to hold the card?"

"No. It doesn't look like anything."

"Here, let me turn it round. What about now?"

Yes! Blood! Splattered on the floor, on the walls … a knife sticking in the dead lump of a corpse. Life, draining away, so much blood …

"A cake. Birthday cake. With a candle. And … custard."

"Show me the cake, Alex."

Alex gestured vaguely at the lump, the corpse … "There. And here's the candle." The knife, sharp serrated edge, cutting through flesh, killing, killing … He shivered and drew back. "I don't want to look at it any more."

"Take the card, Alex."

"No. Don't want to touch it."

"It's only a cake, Alex."

Alex was looking down again. He couldn't face the sight. Too much blood, every where, dripping from the walls. "Give me a different one."

Dr. Merriman sighed deeply. "I think we should discuss this one first."

Alex twitched angrily. He wanted to tell the stupid man to just move on. They were wasting time. They could be looking at the next picture already! "Here, cake." Alex waved at the lump again, looking through, rather than at, the card. "And look, candle … and custard. Loads of custard. It's everywhere … "

"Do you like custard?"

Alex shrugged, but he felt his breathing accelerate again. It wasn't custard! Stupid man couldn't see it was blood! He bit his lip nervously. "It's okay." Creamy, thick, coppery, red …

"Take the card, please," Dr. Merriman said again and this time Alex snatched it from his hands. He held it carefully, not wanting to get his hands in the blood. "Well done, Alex. Many people see an animal skin, like a rug. Can you see that?"

"No. It's a cake," Alex answered without looking at the card.

"You can turn it around if you like."

Alex put the card back on the table. "It's a cake," he repeated firmly.

Dr. Merriman exhaled slowly and it sounded like the long suffering sigh of a man who had been stuck at the exact same place a thousand times and still had found no way through. "I think you're lying, Alex. I can help you, but I need to know what's going on inside. Please, just tell me what you really see."

Alex gritted his teeth. He did actually want to tell Dr. Merriman about the corpse and the knife and the blood and the death, but he didn't know what words to use or how to start or—

It was with horror that he realised his eyes were welling up. He squeezed them shut to stem the tears, wondered why he was sweating, wanted to get up and run, run, run. "I don't want to do this any more," he said, fighting to keep his voice as calm as possible.

Dr. Merriman shrugged. "It might help you to talk about it?"

Talk about the blood? Talk about death? Gunshots, bombs, bullets, pain, pain, pain ... It took all of Alex's strength to stop himself from crying out with the horror of the remembered pain and fear. "Maybe next time," Alex said. Probably never.

***

"Well?"

"It's borderline. His emotional responses are becoming more and more uncontrolled."

"Is there anything we can give him for that?"

"Time?"

Blunt laughed. "We don't have time. I need him back in the field tomorrow. "

"I suppose ... maybe a low dose of Valium. Just to counteract the constant physiological arousal. But really, some time off would be better."

"I just need him to be functional enough to not self-destruct."

Dr. Merriman looked uncomfortable. "It's heading that way, sir. It's getting worse after every mission. Even a few days, preferably weeks, break between missions would do him a world of good."

Blunt laughed again. It wasn't a pleasant laugh. "He's growing older every day. His greatest asset is his age. We need to make the best use of him while we can."

"His greatest weakness is also his age," Dr. Merriman warned. "His body is still growing, his mind is still learning. If you don't look after him a bit more then ..." he trailed off.

"Codswallop. He's fine. His performance on missions is stellar. He does as he's told, fixes problems, leaves no witnesses. Perfect."

Dr. Merriman looked down at the splatter of ink on the card in his hand. He too could see death and destruction, but worst of all he could see the careful shredding away of Alex Rider's mental stability. There, lying in tatters, black on white ...

THE END
October 2009