I’ve been digging through my old stuff again – and found another flash fiction piece I wrote up about a year ago. Why it never ended up in the published list is a question best left to sages and those gurus who own time.
It IS a good piece of situational flash – so I’m sharing it now. Enjoy!
Story Elements: Conflict and Character
Too much alcohol.
Too little sleep.
Too much of whatever that white-ish sludge I found in the bottom of my whiskey glass was…
He wanted me quiescent. Immobilized. But conscious. As much as I would like the reality of this room to fade away into my comfortable library, it stubbornly sticks to reality.
His boots scrape along the concrete floor, his off-key whistling echoing weirdly from the steel rafters. Like a cobra strike, his face pops into my field of view.
“Ahhhh…” the word a long, slow exhalation, punctuated with garlic and tobacco smoke. “No introductions necessary, I assume?”
They’re not, and he knows it. His face and his escape have been plastered all over the news and social media since ‘The Butcher’ performed his vanishing act from his not-so-cozy cell a week ago.
Those stories amplified as he resumed his grizzly … work.
“It’s five o’clock somewhere,” he says sardonically, his face inches from my own, his breath forcing trickles of tears from my watering eyes. “Have you ever heard the term? It’s an excuse. A cop out. A clever way to say I’d rather go fill my gullet with alcohol than to do a competent job.”
A finger of ice traces it’s delicate way down my spine.
“You said that, your Honor, the day you sentenced me to life without the possibility of parole.”
He slowly draws a very shiny, very sharp knife between our faces.
“It’s time for my drink.”