Flash Fiction Friday 2022 – Week 25
Flash Fiction Friday continues in 2022. New pieces appear every Friday on my Patreon throughout the year. The minimum pledge to read them before anyone else is $3 per month. Find out what they’re all about and read some excerpts from the latest update in this post.
Excerpts
Day Off
Emma yawned and looked at the digital clock atop her nightstand. It was half-past nine in the morning, the weekend had finally arrived and, for the first time since the beginning of the month, she felt calm and relaxed, nothing weighing on her mind.
“Hmmm, the joy of a couple of days to myself…” she mumbled, resting her arms to the side of her petite body. A fluffy Norwegian Forest cat rested on the pillow next to her, golden eyes fixed on the subtle movements of her fingers. Ratchet was a free spirit, unperturbed by anything except the lack of food. Licking his front right paw, it was almost as if he was saying, “Sure, Emma, but don’t forget the tuna.”
Emma stretched and tried to get up, the muscles in her body demanding yet a few more minutes before kicking into gear. It had been a restless night with her neighbor’s birthday party going strong until the first light of the day. Understandable yet still a drag.
(…)
Driver
Harold shivered inside the black van parked a few blocks away from Ellen Whitaker’s mansion. He had a bad feeling about that night, unlike his three companions.
“Are we really going forward with this?” he asked, twiddling his thumbs.
“Of course we are,” Damian replied. He was the self-proclaimed leader of the group, and the reason they were all gathered. “Why are you so worried?”
“It’s just that we never tried anything like this before. Are we sure we can pull off this heist?”
“Would I have brought you here if I wasn’t? I’ve gone through the plan a thousand times already and there’s no way this doesn’t work. Are you guys having the same doubts as him?” Damian turned to the other two men.
(…)
Final Question
It was the most surprising night ever at the old Star Auditorium. For the first time in over twelve years, a participant in the long-running contest “Who Are You?” had made it to the final round with the chance to win the prize millions of ensnared souls coveted but dared not verbalize: his freedom.
His name was Benjamin Wallace, known to the system only as Slave 420624, a lowly worker from the copper mines who had been selected alongside fifty of his peers to entertain the Free Folk over the course of six hours of peak television. The contest had it all, from displays of physical strength to random trivia few people alive could answer, and even an improv Battle Royale sequence where the primary goal was to maim as many opponents as possible suffering no long-lasting injuries oneself. It was chaotic, brutal, and a ratings favorite especially when things went south. It was also supposed to be unbeatable.
(…)
Newcomer
Rex stared at the newcomer with angry eyes. The almost hairless creature was on all fours like him, had penetrating green eyes and a salivating tongue making a mess on his floor. This was an outrage, one that could only be met with a loud growl.
“Cut that out,” Melanie admonished him, clicking the floor with the heels of her black PVC boots. “I will not tolerate that kind of behavior from you, you hear?”
Rex nodded his head in disapproval, puffy cheeks swaying from side to side. Had he been blessed with the ability to speak English, he no doubt would have said,
“But she’s an outsider! I’ve been here with you since the beginning and this is how you thank me? Why, Mommy? Why?”
(…)
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