Lots of great stories up for microcosmfic .
Last week’s winners were Geoff Le Pard (Judge’s pick) with Supergran and Nthato Morakabi (Community pick) with The Birth of a Villain. Honourable mention went to Bill Engleson with Snowman, Oilbutt, Bleach Blanket Bunko and the Kangaroo King. Runner-ups were Caleb Echterling with It Is an Honor to Come to the Defence of Akron’s Haberdasheries and Nancy Chenier with Plot Device.
Fabulous stories from everyone who entered. Think there should be some award for best title.
My two recent attempts are:
The Victims of a Kidnap
The large house creaked as night settled upon its decrepit wings and bent roof, but the old woman sitting on the stained and tattered sofa seemed to be unfurling, as though the familiarity of age’s trials offered some comfort. And while she sat and shadows lengthened, she and her captors waited for the call: sonny boy had paid the ransom money.
‘Would you mind, dear,’ she finally asked, her voice scratchy, ‘if I could have something to drink.’
The closest man shrugged and stood; he wasn’t a complete monster. He sauntered over to a cool box and flipped open the lid. He was reaching inside when something wet and warm splashed on the back of his hand.
‘Hey Freddie, I think the cooler’s dead.’
Just outside, Manny heard the ringtone and grinned mirthlessly. About time! He’d had enough of the old biddy and that funny little twitch of the lips every time he looked at her. He’d done this many times, seen many expressions, but that pitying glance and quirky pout of hers was driving him nuts. No one was picking up. Angry, he stormed in.
Great! They’ve left her alone, the amateurs.
He plucked up the phone.
‘Yeah?’
‘The kid ain’t paid. Said we should do what we have to do.’
Manny snorted and ended the call. And he would have done it, but there came the soft tinkle of breaking glass and the impression of black fabric dancing with diamond shards and silver dust motes as a caped figure burst through a window and landed before him.
‘You’re not safe, madam,’ he shouted frantically.
‘I know,’ the old lady sighed.
And Manny pulled the trigger.
The hero shook his head and mouthed dying entreaties and the thug whooped in delight.
‘He didn’t mean it quite like that, dear.’
Road Trip Diversion
It was ’67 and looking for work had pulled me halfway across state, through bloated, busy towns aspiring to be cities and cities collapsing down into black holes. For the last ten months, a few days’ worth of work here, few weeks there, had fuelled the great hunt for something more suitable. It was like eating hand to mouth, but enough to get me closer to that ideal.
But then, every now and again, towns like Redrock rose up.
Small towns like this were goldmines. The locals were caught up in the heady giddiness of catching up with their bigger cousins, eager to impress newcomers: like a young kid showing off. And there was always a bar and pool.
I’d hoped to clean up and clear out that night: be halfway to another thousand miles closer to a decent living.
The bar was typically dark and smoky with tables grouped in tight formation around a space for dancing and a long bar ran down one side, haunted by men and their troubles. But there she was! The green baize under patterned glass lamps like a green pasture in a ray of divine light to a man walking across a desert….and upon it grazed lambs.
I knew the routine, played my part…all was sweet pickings, but then she came and picked up a cue. She was stunning and knew it, with bright eyes and a mouth that could have tempted snakes to bite apples. Maggie. Nineteen and more wisdom than most of the old men sitting in their cocoons of light and solitary misery at the bar. And she knew my play.
She asked for a game…no money…just a night. How could I lose?!
But she hustled me good. One night became twenty years.
Ad Hoc Flash Fiction has some excellent offerings this week with the prompt word: pip. I have one in there; and there’s still time for you to have a go. Last week’s winner was Black Ice by Kereen Getten. A wonderful snippet with a slippery ending.
Sian_ink 