Letter Bomb - Conflicted

Flash Fiction / Micro Fiction

Length - 100 words each

Two pieces written for the competition theme 'Ticking'.

* 'Letter Bomb' finished 1st place in the competition! :) It was first published 08/09/2017 on the competition result page at this address - http://bit.ly/2vSX2pV

__________

Letter Bomb

You arrive home to a package. It's ticking, and it's signed by your crazy ex. Do you open it?

(Read your choice backwards.)

No.

Chance a stood never you, damn. Detonator remote the blow they before see you thing last the is face crazy ex's your. Bushes the in movement there's. Phone your for reach you or, run to try you.

Yes.

Cared they know you time this least at, hey. Detonator remote the blow they before see you thing last the is face crazy ex's your. Bushes the in movement there's. 'You love I' reads clock ornamental engraved an.

__________

Conflicted

There's a clock on the wall drowning out my heartbeat. In a way that clock is my heartbeat. It holds the same power.

That power is life or death. Without treatment I'll die for sure, but the operation is supposedly very risky. It means no one can truly tell me if I should be scared or excited. I'm conflicted. Meanwhile the clock keeps ticking.

My parents have left, taking their mindless prattle with them. All I have to distract myself now is that clock. To give in and count the seconds.

But I can't. Because I'm unsure of which direction. 

__________

__________

Share using the buttons below!

The Midnight Train - Amicable Split - Viper's Nest

Flash Fiction / Micro Fiction

Length - 100 words each

Three pieces written for the competition theme 'Strangers on a Train'.

* 'Amicable Split' featured on The Drabble 's website on 10/10/2017 - http://bit.ly/2wQF2ce

__________

The Midnight Train

As I boarded, a young couple wearing clothes better suited to the '50s had a frightened look in my direction. The modern train made them look strangers to their surroundings. He wrapped his jacket around her shoulders like I'd let the cold in with me.

Despite the journey our train hadn't actually moved. I got off at the next 'stop' to find myself back at the station where I started. I posed the silent question, and its modern face shimmied to reveal the steam locomotive at its head. They weren't strangers on my train, I was a stranger on theirs.

__________

Amicable Split

Head down I boarded the train and almost bumped into a beautiful, blonde-haired woman. I gaped as long as the train guard would allow, before squeaking an awkward 'hello' I'm certain she heard over her headphones. No response.

Instinctively I felt for my wedding ring, forgetting it's not there anymore. Hers wasn't either. You can scream 'amicable split' until you're blue in the face, but the truth is one of you has to suggest it first.

Lives once so tightly intertwined unravel with a single pull. You feel. Then you heal. Until one day you're just strangers on a train.

__________

Viper's Nest

Beware the helpful stranger's pleasant face, and listen for the rattle beneath.

On her maiden commute to the big city, Mike offered Jen his seat. Deaf to protest, they exchanged phone numbers. The text she later received was originally intended for Mike's wife.

Nigel charmed her a week later. She thought her luck had changed, but the roll came up double-one. He was squeezing the attentions of another doe-eyed girl on the return journey.

Brad presented his ornate hood, but Jen stood, barking the words a famous man once (almost) said. 'I've had it, with these snakes, on this train!'

__________

__________

Share using the buttons below!

A Comic's Story - The Comic Book Artist - Punch Line

Flash Fiction / Micro Fiction

Length - 100 words each

Three pieces written for the competition theme 'A Comic Story'.
* 'The Comic Book Artist' finished 3rd place in the competition!

__________

A Comic's Story

I wake, my hotel room startling in its simplicity. I panic. Where am I? I check the date - it's the fifteenth. 'Oxford' I think, and breathe easy.

Almost three-hundred miles and seven hours later I croak my opening witticisms, birthing worded wings for thirty minutes in a complex, dazzling display. The social butterfly. Everybody's friend. Kind of funny really. I shed them there, and crawl back to my hotel room alone.

I wake, my hotel room startling in its simplicity. I panic. Where am I? I check the date - it's the sixteenth. 'Newcastle' I think, and breathe easy.

__________

The Comic Book Artist

'Be ready,' The Hero whispers to his freshly inked nemesis, staring up the nostrils of The Artist. 'We're looking more and more like him with every panel. Our time will come.'

The Artist stares down at the outlined empty face of The Bystander, caught up in the collateral damage of the fight. 'Cameo?' he thinks, 'why not? It's good enough for Stan Lee.'

Image mirrored, the pen fights back. He cannot escape 'The Pull'.

He wipes debris from his eyes. Above him, The Hero and The Villain loom before a battle ruined sky. 'Oh the things you've put us through...'

__________

Punch Line

'Quick, Mum! Grampy's fallen off the sofa!'

                The poor boy wants to laugh but he's worried, so I bark it out for him. He's shocked, but he joins me and I hang an old arm around his shoulders.

                'Why are we laughing Grampy?'

                'We call it slapstick comedy.'

                'But I'm young. You're old.'

                'The pointy-tailed man downstairs doesn't discriminate. You fall, we laugh, and you grow taller. At my age people forget it's funny. The man whispers his own joke instead and we shrink towards its terrible punch line. Go ahead and laugh, please, I'm not ready to hear it.'

__________

__________

Share using the buttons below!

Playing the Fool - Troll Country - Not Okay

Flash Fiction / Micro Fiction

Length - 100 words each

Three pieces written for the competition theme 'Fool'.
* 'Not Okay' finished 2nd Place in the competition!

__________

Playing the Fool

David rolled his eyes as Jon argued, shaking the will above their father's hospital bed. 'An equal share, Dad? He's leaving your company to work for a charity for chrissakes! That fool clearly doesn't understand how money works!'

Their father politely declined revision.

'... unless a listed beneficiary should have fallen on hard times and is unable to command an income. Under such circumstances the entire sum reverts to the aforementioned in order to support-'

                'The entire sum!?' Jon balked.

                David nodded his head. 'A little while working for nothing has given me everything. Not such a fool now, eh?'

__________

Troll Country

'Through there?' Mandrag said, 'I don't know, Sir. It's marked here on the map as 'Troll Country'.'

                'Don't be a fool.' His master said, snatching the aged parchment. 'Lazy cartography is all. You've heard of 'Here be Dragons?' It's just a local variation.'

Three deformed hulking brutes roared appreciatively as they stripped the cooked flesh from another human leg, the discarded femur taking its place upon an ivory pile some two feet high.

                Sir Geoffrey watched from their hanging metal cage with sunken eyes. 'I bet nobody ever leaves this place.'

                Mandrag quietly tore the map to shreds. 'Someone did.'

__________

Not Okay

Caught adrift in a supermarket aisle, grief, pure and simple, washed through me like a wave. I hastily concocted cover and dropped some canned food onto my foot.

                'These damned hands!' I said, forcing a smile through freshly salted cheeks. 'Help me pick these up will you?'

                'No.' My son's eyes were smouldering. 'You're not hurt. You're crying. Again. You're not fooling anyone,' he sighed. 'Just admit it.'

                'I'm-'

                Ten years young and freshly motherless, it should be me keeping him afloat. An approaching sea of faces whispered their symphony of sympathy.

                'I'm...'

                Worse. They circled with concern.

                'I'm fine.'

__________

__________

Share using the buttons below!

The Button - [Redacted] - Dead Man's Bar

Flash Fiction / Micro Fiction

Length - 100 words each

Three pieces written for the competition theme 'America'.
* '[Redacted]' finished 3rd Place in the competition!

__________

The Button

It started as locker-room banter. The big 'What if?' Now he's President.

                His first tour of the office, he nervously bides his time until they show him the button, and the old man breaks free of his handlers to slam reset.

                It's not a flex of power. It's not about building walls, or breaking them. 'What if?' has graduated to 'What now?' and he simply wants out.

                'These people can't look after themselves anymore.' I whisper into the microphone hidden inside my sleeve. 'Things have gone nuclear.'

                We gave you your chance, but the joke is over. Democracy has failed.

__________

[Redacted]

The report, said to have been leaked following an alleged 'incident' at the infamous Area 51, has since resurfaced.

'Attention to all residents of [Redacted]. With immediate effect [Redacted]. Until further notice [Redacted]. If you suspect [Redacted]. If symptoms persist [Redacted]. Avoid the elderly. [Redacted]. Do not attempt [Redacted]. Serve your country, be vigilant, and remain indoors.'

In light of the outgoing American President's directive, some of the following words have been recovered, though their order or placement within the document remains unknown:

Outbreak. Virus. Host. Candelabra. Execution. Global. Defenestration. Airborne.

The truth is out there. Have a [Redacted] day.

__________

Dead Man's Bar

'Hicks' hangs above the saloon door on a wooden sign, but the locals know it by a different name. It's empty, 'cept for one man propping up the bar.

                'They credit me the man with the fastest hands in all America,' I tell him in warning. I reached into my pocket for my warrant and immediately decided to take a seat right there in the doorway instead.

                'Fastest man.' I heard, as the cold crept out from a hole in my soul, and dumbly I looked to its dealer.

                An unturned head. A smoking gun. And lipstick on the glass.

__________

__________

Share using the buttons below!

The Money Tree - Oh Snap! - Show and Tell

Flash Fiction / Micro Fiction

Length - 100 words each

Three pieces written for the competition theme 'A Crime Story'.
* 'The Money Tree' was 'Highly Commended' in the competition!

__________

The Money Tree

'Curiosity killed the cat'. Misquoted so often, we humans have sprouted a cautionary tail. But you know better. After all, satisfaction brought that cat back.

                It's why you're here... no?

                Speculative small ad in a magazine, an impossibility. But what if it wasn't? What if that cat came back filthy rich?

                Hey now, 'just a tree' to you, but that cash investment you brought sure looks like money to me.

                There, there, little kitten; when they find you downstream in a sack with the others, know that one of us was satisfied. I'm really more of a dog person anyway.

__________

Oh Snap!

'Well done,' the police officer said, handing her back her phone. Witnessing an attempted assault, Haley had instinctively started filming. 'Although we didn't need to see you collecting your parcel.' He smiled, and Haley blushed accordingly.

Panting, the man withdrew his phone. The girl had filmed him. He opened the App, searched 'Nearby' and began watching the stories.

One new notification. Huh, she thought, must have left it on 'Open'. Her new follower sent her a video. A single angry emoji followed by a full profile view. She recognised his clothes instantly. 

                The last segment showed him approaching her porch.

__________

Show and Tell

'Colour me impressed.' The big boss said, rolling a cigar from one side of his mouth to the other. He clapped his hands together, more clang than slap, and his cronies relieved me of his rival's head which I'd presented in a once white drawstring bag.

                'My men say you had no weapon?' He chuckled, 'That you just walked straight into his office and BAM! The guy was dead!' He smiled, displaying a full row of golden teeth. 'So tell me, how did you do it?' 

                'Well,' I said, my own smile mere ivory, 'probably easier if I show you.'

__________

__________

Share using the buttons below!

Good Decision - Fool's Gold - Taking the Biscuit

Flash Fiction / Micro Fiction

Length - 100 words each

Three pieces written for the competition theme 'Cool'.
* 'Good Decision' finished 3rd Place in the competition!

__________

Good Decision

'Sorry mate. It's all over the internet.'

                Johnny set the cracked wing mirror down atop the wreck as his friend showed him footage from his smartphone. In it, Johnny's now ex-girlfriend appeared to lay into his new car with a sledgehammer.

                'She asked me to choose,' Johnny said, shrugging his shoulders. 'I guess she didn't like my answer.'

                'You seem remarkably cool about this.'

                Johnny grinned, took his car keys from his pocket and raised them into the air, pressing the button. Behind him, an identical make and model blinked into life.

                'I bought mine because I liked my neighbour's...'

__________

Fool's Gold

He hauled the heavy rune-inscribed stone door shut, the remainder of their company catching a breath after their flight through the volcano's sweltering basalt passages. Odd then, that he could see it, their deep expulsions lingering as mist in the guttering torchlight.

                'Why's it so cool in here?'

                A brittle tinkling melody encroached their position. Panicking, a man cracked open the native's special fire ward and it lit the room, dazzling them from a multitude of ice facets all about them. It'd do little else.

                He slumped down. 'Tricked'. A blue-white scaled beast shot into view. 'Wrong type of dragon.' 

__________

Taking the Biscuit

'So you poured them over his head? Are you crazy!?'

                'They were clearly labelled! He used my chilli sauce too!'

                Chris looked at the mess. Light biscuit fragments scattered from an upturned bucket by their new flatmate's bedroom door. A flaky trail led to the bathroom where he was about to shower.

                'Well at least you didn't pour that over him as well.'

                'I said he could use my shampoo...' Michael sat at the table with steepled fingers.

                Then Chris noticed the empty chilli sauce bottle, a jug full of white, viscous liquid beside it. 'Not cool, man. Not cool.'

__________

__________

Share using the buttons below!

Emily - Betrothed - Class of '89

Flash Fiction / Micro Fiction

Length - 100 words each

Three pieces written for the competition theme 'An Unwanted Birthday'.
* 'Emily' was 'Highly Commended' in the competition!

__________

Emily

Back again, drawn from nowhere. Dad sits with his party hat on, Mum busy lighting the candles on my cake whilst I dance alone in the dress she bought me, all mauve with stencil flowers on it.

                The last candle won't light, the wick is wet with sorrow. Dad doesn't even bother to comfort her, a me-shaped chasm open between them since Mum miscarried all those years ago.

                Dead before I'd even lived, a special kind of ghost. I am an anomaly, though they'd have called me Emily, a conscience born of tragedy, on the day that hurts them most.

__________

Betrothed

She pulled back from their secret moonlight embrace, resisting his questing fingers.

                'I'm betrothed to Count Valer, Sir Henry. Tomorrow when I come of age, Father will have his wish.' She went to kiss him again, but he stood firm, a dark expression staining his face.

                'Suppose Count Valer isn't around tomorrow.' Fingers danced atop his sword pommel.

                'Father has gambled our meagre lot arranging the ceremony, I have to marry someone.'

                'Marry me, instead.' She drank in the murder that spilled from his eyes, her breaths growing heavy.

                'There's not much time.' She said, quivering, 'bring me his head.'

__________

Class of '89

All my friends are dead. I thumb through pages of an open yearbook, reading by mounted candlelight their signed, hopeful messages.

                'Something to drink, General?' She hands me a glass, looks from me to her departed brother, centre page, and raises her drink in silent toast. All the women do, clustered in solemn huddles about our old school hall.

                Turning point in the war. Emergency conscription. The class of '89, wiped out after one week of fighting.

                'Happy Birthday.' She whispers, and takes her leave.

                All my friends are dead. Born a week earlier, and I'd have shared their fate.

__________

__________

Share using the buttons below!

Sentence - Binnie - Sunken Valley

Flash Fiction / Micro Fiction

Length - 100 words each

Three pieces written for the competition theme 'Holiday'.
* 'Binnie' was 'Highly Commended' in the competition!

__________

Sentence

'Up.' He said, clattering the ladder against the sofa. It wrenched his son from newspaper-abetted slumber, and he shrieked in fright. 'I'm going to patch that crack in the ceiling.'

                'No,' His son said. 'You're not. You need to slow down. They forced retirement on you for a reason. Think of it like those holidays you went on with Mum.'

                He heard her sweet laugh echo, felt her last kiss on the back of his hand.

                This was no holiday, not without his Muriel. It was a sentence, with but one way to survive it.

                'I'll go tile the hallway.'

__________

Binnie

Andrew burst through the door with his arms open wide and his eyes closed, bracing himself for impact. Once again, the anticipated whirl of fur and tongue slobber was not forthcoming. Instead, his father came into the hallway, sorrow written on his face.

                'Binnie's... gone away.'

                Andrew took a breath, 'On holiday?'

                'If you like. He might be gone for some time though.'                                     

                'That's okay.' Andrew said, smiling. His father didn't see it as he patted his head. Andrew nodded and made to leave. 'Where are you off to now?'

                'To make him a present. For when he gets back.'

__________

Sunken Valley

'You didn't bring a lighter? Matches?' Ben snapped the twigs he'd been rubbing together.

                'I did. But they're currently three feet underwater.'

                 The three of them drew in a tight pathetic huddle beneath the makeshift shelter they'd constructed following their escape. Lightning blazed, rain dancing along the sodden underwear they'd substituted for guy ropes. It drummed on the bed sheets tied to branches overhead as thunder crashed its frightening crescendo.

                'Why did you park it downhill?' Becky muttered, clutching their whimpering daughter. 'When I said we should go on a caravan holiday in the Valleys, I didn't mean inside one.'

__________

__________

Share using the buttons below!

It's All in the Planning - Mr Merlon - Mummy's Knight

Flash Fiction / Micro Fiction

Length - 100 words each

Three pieces written for the competition theme 'Close'.
* 'Mummy's Knight' finished 3rd Place in the competition!

__________

It's All in the Planning

How long was I out? Inside Reginald's head he'd already been spending the money, but movement in his rear-view mirror demanded his attention and he slammed a foot down on the accelerator, revving the engine in anticipation.

                'Come on! What are they doing?' He screamed aloud, struggling to hear himself. 'Are they walking!?'

                They opened the passenger door. That's when he noticed their swag bags were empty.

                'Trouble?' He shrieked, as he forced his foot down harder and his metal mistress moaned. 

                'Trouble.' One of the balaclava laden lads confirmed. His tone was infuriatingly casual. 'It's Wednesday. Place is closed.'

__________

Mr Merlon

Since my first day of school, you, alone, found the time.

                You patched me up after all the fights - even those I fought against myself.

                School is done now, and, after years in the gutter I've finally taken charge. I've applied to become a qualified teaching assistant, thanks to your friendship.

                But instead of walking in through a familiar frame to see you busy marking coursework, I find this six-foot headstone of solid oak, and a tear escapes me.

                I pull it ajar, uncaring of the new tenant, and walk away.

                Because for me, this door was always open.

__________

Mummy's Knight

My dad tells me, he's a valiant knight and that when I hear Mummy screaming, I must shut my eyes whilst he fights off The Monster.

                My dad tells me I must keep my eyes shut, because if it catches me peeking, The Monster will come for me as well.

                My dad is a liar. I did open my eyes once, and I saw The Monster. It looked a lot like my dad. When I'm a little older, I'll be the knight that Mummy was promised. Until then, as I grow into my braver armour, I'll keep my eyes closed.

__________

__________

Share using the buttons below!

Hammerhead - Head, Heart and Balls - Phantom Pain

Flash Fiction / Micro Fiction

Length - 100 words each

Three pieces written for the competition theme 'Headache'.
* 'Phantom Pain' was 'Highly Commended' in the competition!

__________

Hammerhead

'Give that guy a headache.'

                In the early days I took that command very literally, but my boss complained I lacked finesse, so now breaking brains through insufferable choice is my artistry.

                So what will it be?

                I could kill you in seven days. You could live it up, even try to kill me first.

                Or I could come for you at random. You'd live with eyes cast fretfully askance, or forget about me entirely. It could never happen, life nails us all eventually.

                Just remember, that could mean tomorrow.

                I still use the same hammer from twelve years ago.

__________

Head, Heart and Balls

'My balls ache.' Henry complained, breaching the doorway. 'This stuff is supposed to be helping me, it's too strong. Have you seen my jacket?' Jane gave him a sharp look and hung up the phone.

                'You know Nora's brother? John? He's had some news.' Henry groaned, decrypting the family grapevine made his head hurt. My brother's, mother's...  '...Michael. His daughter's pregnant.'

                She stared expectantly.

                'But that's- We're having a baby?!'

                'I'm having a baby.' She cut in coldly, stepping aside to reveal his jacket stuffed into a half packed suitcase of his things. 'Your brother's.'

                He felt his heart break.

__________

Phantom Pain

My head hurts and I love it. It makes my skin itch - even where it's missing. Fried neurological circuitry. I think they call that phantom pain.

                Straining every remaining sinew, I bust out of the ground and instinctively scrape the earth from empty eye sockets using skeletal digits that shouldn't even function.

                Vitality is excruciating, though my groans are pleasurable. When they buried me three years ago I never thought I'd think, less feel, again.

                I've claimed it before, but my stomach is literally empty.

                I don't know who to thank for my revival. I just hope they're tasty.

__________

__________

Share using the buttons below!

Stain(Ed) - A Week or Three - Fight For Life

Flash Fiction / Micro Fiction

Length - 100 words each

Three pieces written for the competition theme 'Phone Call'.

__________

Stain(Ed)

'It's simple,' I explain. 'If the black phone rings you live. Silver phone means you die.' I wonder if he hears my voice falter.

                'Please.' He begs. 'Don't do this!'

                'Sorry, Ed.' This time, his eyes are blue.

                'Why do you keep calling me that!'

                Tension's relieved by a buzzing on the table, Long John calling.

                This is the fifth man I've killed, but the face remains the same, borne into my conscience like a stain. 

                The black phone isn't even connected, just my little moniker. It was Ed's. If he rings, I'll bite the lead and apologise in person.

__________

A Week or Three

'The old widow has a safe room. We find her, kill her, and leave her inside. She leaves tomorrow, but nobody will care if she stays out another week... or three.' He chuckled darkly.

                His partner pulled the door to and jumped at the metallic clang that followed.

                'Are we...'

                A dial tone interrupted him.

                'This is Rhonda, responding to emergency. Is there a situation?'

                No handset, another voice responded.

                'No dear it's fine, must have triggered the switch by accident. I'm going on holiday tomorrow, and it's just occurred to me to extend my stay another week... or three.'

__________

Fight For Life

I'm sorry I couldn't be there Dad, although with my recent track record in hospitals maybe it's no bad thing.

                I've been called to my place in another pointless war where death means very little, while a thousand miles away the one I care about toils in a precious fight for life.

                'Phone call for you, Private.'

                I can't breathe.

                Some of the men know my ordeal, so my game face goes up under the weight of their anxious faces. For their sake, I choke back my pride.

                Victory tastes bitter-sweet.

                'It's a boy.'

                Sorry you'll never hear it, Grandpa.

__________

__________

Share using the buttons below!

Reborn - Unable - When Rabbits Lay Eggs

Flash Fiction / Micro Fiction

Length - 100 words each

Three pieces written for the competition theme 'Easter'.
* 'When Rabbits Lay Eggs' was Highly Commended in the competition!

__________

Reborn

'You sure it's him? They're calling him uncatchable.'

                'It's him.'

                'You think the killer is Jesus Christ?' He said, sceptically looking up at the crucifix.

                'Go around.'

                The killer hung grotesquely from the back of the statue. He returned to his colleague.

                'He did this to himself? How long?'

                'He's been dead four hours.'

                The detective's phone rang.

                'When? Just now? But he's...' He peeked around and hung up, stunned.

                The body was gone. Petrified, the twisted corpse had assimilated into a perfect rendition of the statue's front, 'Reborn' additionally engraved in the stone's base.

                'I guess they were right.'

__________

Unable

Trembling, she lowered her hand as her dead father slumped to the ground.

                'Give it here.' Her younger brother said, prying the smoking gun from fear locked fingers. 'We don't have much time.' Blood streaked his face where Father had struck him moments before.

                'What do we...'

                'Say it was me.'

                Outside, people were already rushing to investigate. His eyes dropped to the curve of her stomach.

                'Every child needs a mother to protect them, from beasts like him.' He turned the gun on himself.

                'You'd die for my sins?'

                'Do what mum couldn't.' He said, and pulled the trigger.

__________

When Rabbits Lay Eggs

'I just bought you that rabbit! Now you want a bike? When pigs fly, son. Or better yet, when that rabbit lays me a golden egg!'

                Two months later.

                'One to find Mikey!' He patted him on the head and took the mini Easter egg from him.

                Mikey's elder brother, Jake, sauntered in.

                'Thought you were helping? Is that straw?' Jake just shrugged.

                'Found it!' Mikey screamed, a little too excitedly.

                'On top of the fridge eh?'

                'In the hutch!'

                'What?' Terror stole his breath, the egg's wrapper was golden.

                'Bike!'

                'You did promise.' Jake offered casually. 

                'You little sh-'

__________

__________

Share using the buttons below!