Written for the Daily Flash Fiction Challenge with a word limit of 300.
The prompts: This story must be about someone getting a really bad holiday gift
Library of Souls
Samuel was surprised at both the sound of the gun and the feeling of being suddenly pushed backward. He had just handed his wallet to the man with the gun. He’d offered no resistance at all.
The man had shot him anyway.
“Merry Christmas Mother-Fucker.”
The robber had turned and fled, laughing at his Yule reference.
Has to be the worst present ever, Samuel thought as he floated backwards in Hi-Def Slow Motion.
Samuel jumped aside as his body resumed normal speed, coming to land a good ten feet away from where his empty shoes marked the launch point.
Cool, was his surprising first thought.
“Let’s go Samuel. I don’t have all night.”
He turned to find – nothing.
“Down here.”
Samuel looked down to see a small cherub pacing around his ankles.
“Look, spare me the short angel jokes. I have heard them all before. How about you just heft me onto your shoulder and we’ll get started.”
Samuel wondered briefly how many short angel jokes there could actually be. Finally, he shrugged and lifted the white-robed munchkin onto his shoulder.
“Where are we going?”
“Library of Souls. We have you scheduled for a quick turn around.”
“I don’t understand. What is the Library of Souls?”
“How could you not know that? Don’t you remember? That is where you pick your next life. You know, rich and powerful or poor and meek etc.”
“I still don’t get it.”
The little angel pulled out something that appeared to be Blackberry and began typing. A few moments later he looked up and said, “Oops.”
“Oops?”
“Sorry man, we gotta get you back into your body. Turns out the bullet passed right through you without hitting anything vital.”
”Holy Cow! I think I have a pulse.” The EMT immediately went to work.
Word count 300
Friday, March 4, 2011
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
Choices
Written for the Daily Flash Fiction Challenge with a word limit of 300.
The prompts: This story must contain the words: mattress, trunk and slide
Choices
Edgar considered his two options – three really. He could always choose to do nothing.
The idea of action was, for the moment, more appealing.
Mattress or trunk, mattress or trunk; this was going to be a tough call.
On the one hand, the mattress seemed to be made for the job. It was perfectly shaped for someone that cared to recline and simply let the day’s stream of random thoughts ricochet around in one’s mind. On the other hand, its thin plastic construction made him doubt the object’s durability. This could be important.
The trunk was a little more of a mystery. Edgar felt a little like having to choose either the mattress or whatever was behind door number three. Yes it was big but not quite big enough. Yes it was sturdy; at least it appeared to be so. However, that could be more of a liability than an asset. After all, one might argue that an anchor was sturdy. That didn’t qualify it as suitable.
A wrong choice here might have a considerable downside. Choosing correctly meant life while to pick wrong might mean, well, afterlife.
What to do. What to do.
Edgar didn’t make snap decisions. He was helped along in the process when his peripheral vision caught the horizon beginning to slope upwards. A moment later, his feet began to slide.
Down he went. It was quite a long way down from the bow to the current waterline about half way up the length of the nearly vertical ship’s deck.
As he slid along, he noticed an old woman grabbing at the mattress. He considered fighting her for it but wasn’t sure he could take her. He was more of an intellectual sort.
The trunk it is, he decided just as he hit the water.
Word count 299
The prompts: This story must contain the words: mattress, trunk and slide
Choices
Edgar considered his two options – three really. He could always choose to do nothing.
The idea of action was, for the moment, more appealing.
Mattress or trunk, mattress or trunk; this was going to be a tough call.
On the one hand, the mattress seemed to be made for the job. It was perfectly shaped for someone that cared to recline and simply let the day’s stream of random thoughts ricochet around in one’s mind. On the other hand, its thin plastic construction made him doubt the object’s durability. This could be important.
The trunk was a little more of a mystery. Edgar felt a little like having to choose either the mattress or whatever was behind door number three. Yes it was big but not quite big enough. Yes it was sturdy; at least it appeared to be so. However, that could be more of a liability than an asset. After all, one might argue that an anchor was sturdy. That didn’t qualify it as suitable.
A wrong choice here might have a considerable downside. Choosing correctly meant life while to pick wrong might mean, well, afterlife.
What to do. What to do.
Edgar didn’t make snap decisions. He was helped along in the process when his peripheral vision caught the horizon beginning to slope upwards. A moment later, his feet began to slide.
Down he went. It was quite a long way down from the bow to the current waterline about half way up the length of the nearly vertical ship’s deck.
As he slid along, he noticed an old woman grabbing at the mattress. He considered fighting her for it but wasn’t sure he could take her. He was more of an intellectual sort.
The trunk it is, he decided just as he hit the water.
Word count 299
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