Written for the Daily Flash Fiction Challenge with a word limit of 300.
The prompts: This story must include the words: marble, coconut and bluebird
Good Dog
Jacob knew they owned him; kept on a leash as if he were no more than a dog to be turned loose when an attack was warranted. That was it. He was their two-legged attack dog.
He also knew that he didn’t care.
He looked out over the hustle and bustle that was midday Istanbul; a billion lives hidden beneath as many robes. There could be no hope for the average man to rise above the shadow of poverty that fell over ninety percent of the population. They struggled to survive.
Most would live their entire lives within the limits of the city. They would die young in bodies overly aged by a life of strife. Their children would get busy starting the next generation with no idea how they would care for them.
Jacob reached for his iced tea sitting on the window sill. The outside heat fought with his room’s air conditioning unit. Open windows were part of the job.
He glanced at the woman lying naked on his bed. She appeared to be sleeping but he knew otherwise. Witnesses were a no-no.
As he waited by the window, his mind drifted to other times. He could remember when he had killed for the very first time. A bluebird had settled on the railing of his front porch. The rock from the slingshot had carried it halfway across the yard.
Smiling he thought, Good times, good times.
An increase in the noise from the street below brought him back.
His mark stepped out of the car, flanked by bodyguards. A twitch from Jacob’s finger splattered the man’s head like an exploding coconut.
They’ll be picking up skull chips from their fancy marble floor for a week, he thought as he casually packed up. His masters were expecting him.
The prompts: This story must include the words: marble, coconut and bluebird
Good Dog
Jacob knew they owned him; kept on a leash as if he were no more than a dog to be turned loose when an attack was warranted. That was it. He was their two-legged attack dog.
He also knew that he didn’t care.
He looked out over the hustle and bustle that was midday Istanbul; a billion lives hidden beneath as many robes. There could be no hope for the average man to rise above the shadow of poverty that fell over ninety percent of the population. They struggled to survive.
Most would live their entire lives within the limits of the city. They would die young in bodies overly aged by a life of strife. Their children would get busy starting the next generation with no idea how they would care for them.
Jacob reached for his iced tea sitting on the window sill. The outside heat fought with his room’s air conditioning unit. Open windows were part of the job.
He glanced at the woman lying naked on his bed. She appeared to be sleeping but he knew otherwise. Witnesses were a no-no.
As he waited by the window, his mind drifted to other times. He could remember when he had killed for the very first time. A bluebird had settled on the railing of his front porch. The rock from the slingshot had carried it halfway across the yard.
Smiling he thought, Good times, good times.
An increase in the noise from the street below brought him back.
His mark stepped out of the car, flanked by bodyguards. A twitch from Jacob’s finger splattered the man’s head like an exploding coconut.
They’ll be picking up skull chips from their fancy marble floor for a week, he thought as he casually packed up. His masters were expecting him.
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