The rock wall flew past. I clawed at it. The climbing harness dug into my thighs and waist, yanked me back. I felt Nick’s dead weight pulling under me. “Don’t let go!” I yelled, but a gust took my voice. I swung out of control.
Five a.m. and I’m in an empty bar. The exit sign over the door hums and goes out. “Always loved prophetic signs.” The bottle of bourbon on the counter is half empty. I look at the heap of misery behind the bar. That body used to be a sad excuse for a human, a criminal, a rat. Until someone orders him ended.
“That. Was. Sweet!” A hooded figure peels from the shadow, gloved hands clapping. “Too bad nobody appreciates a good craftsman.” He hands me a card. It only says, Reaper. “But I do. I’m Grim.”
I bring in the tray with a steaming teapot and two gold-rimmed cups. John throws me an amused looked. „Tea? Really?“ He’s happy to throw me out of my house. I’m just a joke to him.
„Courtesy. One last time. Before…“ I put down the tray on the coffee table. Tears sting in my eyes. I cannot force them back down.
„You brought it on yourself!“ He does not hide his annoyance. I nod and pour in the hot liquid into the cups. He takes a sip. „Mmm, good.“
I do not drink it, I just stare. „It’s monkshood.“
a chuck wending Friday flash fiction challenge (X) – a 100-word story- okay, it’s less…
Today, some idiot calls me a saucy twelve-year-old bitch. The name’s Vespa. No one calls me that!
I may not look like it, but I’m far older than you may suspect. Luckily, I don’t need more than twelve seconds to cast a nasty spell…
Don’t be surprised, if you meet a five feet tall rat in Central Park. Please don’t call him Splinter…
a chuck wending prompt (X), 5-sentence-story / 100 words
music inspired: Burn my shadow away, by UNCLE (war stories)
Entropy was a bitch, but only because I wasn’t a morning person.
Temperature fell below zero in a blink, my breath formed little vapor clouds.
My shadow bloated and blurred the room, stretching to the corners, fanning out and coaxing my thoughts into reality.
A blood colored velvet Chesterfield dropped to the ground with a thud, and a hot cup of tea wobbled into existence right in front of my left hand.
Really tired of these morons, working for me, nothing but a waste of space and energy… Being the devil, doesn’t make my job easier…
a chuck wending prompt (link); a 5-sentence-story (max 100 words)
A big, unusual looking white wolf stood on top of the hill, the forest in its back, stretched its hind paws and yawned.
Maybe its sky-colored eyes, or its gold dipped tail, or its huge glistening fangs made it look so exceptional…
Just before sunrise, the horizon started glowing and writing flashed to rush across the sky, as it always did.
The wolf read it out: “Thank you for choosing Strix Planetary Maintenance Systems.”
“Crap, time to upgrade,” the wolf rolled its eyes.
I stood in the middle of the garden. The sun shone down and tried to melt the blue out of the sky. In front of me, a big Hydrangea bush dipped. Something moved, fell and rose again. Something black. It dropped… Mhmm.
“You see it? Landed over there. Bird of paradise flowers. Look.” Danaus plexippus. Monarch butterfly. His steps stopped right behind me. I looked him square in the eyes, but I couldn’t read anything in them. The insect moved across the orange flower. “They’re bigger than I thought.” He told me lazily leaning on my shoulder. His weight and warmth attached itself to me… I felt a tiny click somewhere inside. The click of two magnets meet. His breath smelled of coffee and liquor. “You know it by name? Don’tcha, doc?”
Breathing was always hard with him around. Speaking even more, so I swallowed instead. He snuggled with my nape. “Why do you always smell so good?” He hummed into my hair.
Alec’s remark falls from my shoulder.
“Stop motivating the bleeding,” I tell him. “Be more helpful. Here, hold this. Stop shaking. Just hold it, with two fingers. Ok?” I guide his fingers around the sereffine. Luckily he has surgical gloves on.
We’re on the right track. I’m nearly done, only the skin suture left to be done. I did a rather good job. Nothing fancy, still enough left to do a patch-up.
I take the sereffine back, and sling the suture material around it. Tightening it once, twice, just to be sure a third time too. The sereffine comes off. “There. See? No more blood.” I state and finish the work.
I’ve always been afraid of the dark.
My whole life I was scared when the lights went out. When the day dissolved into the night, I crawled, as fast as I could, under my blankets, leaving my reading lamp on. Often the whole night.
But things change…
There is no reading lamp – not anymore. No blankets. I sit in my chair, smoke and wait for the dusk to come. The grayness descends so slowly, carefully, not to scare anyone away.
Emerging from the business of midday, from the productivity others use to care for, the twilight spawns. Slowly unfolding, growing… As if breaking up the surface of reality, the fuzziness within and around things reveals itself.
In those moments I feel my heart beating stronger, louder, faster… As if it would respond to a call, I did not hear in the first place. Ill-defined movements under a dust layer. Left alone, for so many centuries. Left to feel despair, to feel guilt, to feel … myself, my flaws.