Flash Fiction

HOW MUCH WOULD YOU LIKE TO INVEST IN A CAR?

'Like it?' Rupert Grant smoothed his hand over the curve of the front fender of the BMW. Its sheen gave off a distorted image of his face.

'Anything in red – with metallic paint?', she enquired, thoughtfully, arms folded, feet apart.

Grant extended his arms towards her, palms up, smiling, his teeth unnaturally white and even. He swivelled in an arc, inviting her to absorb the gleaming cars around them.

'Any colour you want. If it's not here, we can order a completely personalised car for you.'

She gazed at the polished steel and marble of the showroom. There was an airy ambiance, all calm. Everything gleamed; soft sounds echoed. It could have been the lobby of a modern up-market hotel at two in the morning, but with cars instead of sofas strewn about the place. Grant moved away from the car and sidled up to her:

'Why red?', he asked.

'They can see me coming', she replied, still looking at the BMW.

'They?'  

Agnostos

A lot meant.

-Prize for best mange-touts goes to…not the usual suspect…none other than our very own, home-grown glamorous Grandma and Avon Lady: Gladys Mulamphy!
-Thank you!
-Tell me, Gladys, how do you keep your nails so beautifully manicured?
-Only the best gardening gloves, my dear!
-Your complexion so unblemished despite the weather on our allotments?
-Only the best Avon skincare.
-Your tools so pristine?
-So glad you noticed!
Sniffling with emotion, Gladys reaches into her pocket for a handkerchief. A mud-stained note flutters to the ground.
-Here, Gladys. “With love, Horace Honour xxx”?

Lovers?

He strained forward in his middle row seat, smiling with uncontrolled delight at the celebrity on stage. Twiddling his diamond-studded earring and checking his cuff-links, he shuffled from one buttock to the other as Bruno Tonioli laughed with Piers Morgan about having a big package. From the limelight, Bruno kept his quarry in sight; his head turning swiftly, body rolling sideways and beady eyes shooting straight to his prey whenever using innuendo, or answering an intensely emotional question. Apart from the interviewer, there seemed to be no-one in the packed TV studio other than this pair. Their connection was electric.

Just as nature intended

She holds the precious bottle, presses the pump-action nozzle with her right index finger and cups her left hand to receive the translucent serum. She dips four right fingertips into the pool, transfers some of the elixir to the corresponding left fingertips and generously smears the liquid onto her taut face, feeling the relief on each part of her skin. Cheeks, chin, forehead, neck are traced with tiny circular movements, two hands working in symmetry on their own sides. Delicately dabbing under each eye she is careful not to drag, same on eyelids.

“Perfect! Looks like I haven’t bothered!”

Sweet dreams

A peaceful, easy feeling enveloped me. I awoke to a mind untrammelled by past memories and anxieties. All I had was now, not then. What should I make of my new existence? Not remembering who I was supposed to be allowed me to invent the person I wanted to be. A song on the radio gave me an idea: 'All that she wants is another baby!'
That would be a joy. Will have to find out how to make one...

'Thank you. That was lovely. Glad you could partake!'

'My pleasure. Good night.'

Catherine


Number One

She swirled and gyrated to the sounds that seem slightly syncopated to the western ear, recognising him across the room. His twisted smile barely concealed the familiar contempt he felt for her. She danced closer, her hips and belly swaying seductively until she was within whispering distance. Bending down, she stared directly into his eyes. His smile froze into a fixed grimace as the life drained from his body. Still staring into his eyes she mouthed the last words he would see; “you were warned. You were cursed. Fool. You should not have returned and now you pay the price”.

Number Two

Labouring under the weight of the last case of contraband and carefully placing alongside the others in the shadows by the back door, the smuggler wondered if retirement would ever be possible. The dual strain of weight and anxiety grew with every consignment. With each run the chances of getting caught increased. This was number five: the average runner’s life was four. Surely the earnings would be enough to pay off the family curse. Her old life as a belly dancer was a distant memory, made more appealing by the effects of time, distance and comparison with her present.

TWO PEOPLE….
“Here’s your wine” he said, leaning over the back of the settee to hand her the glass. This way he knew she couldn’t see the redness he knew would rise in his face as he came close enough to smell the freshness of her newly washed hair.
“Thanks”, she replied, reaching around and taking the glass. Her fingers overlapped his as she took it and she was relieved he didn’t see her blush as they remained touching for a fraction longer than was strictly necessary. “Thanks for letting me come over to watch the news with you”.
“No worries, it’s nice to watch it in company” he responded, settling himself into the settee with discreet proximity so their knees may brush each other ‘accidentally’. Which they did.

100 SPECIFICITY WORDS

The never-laid machine made egg wrapped in a rectangle of colourful foil. Retrieve the rectangle intact. Picking gently at the top, finding where mechanical hands made what look like human folds as the precious sweet was wrapped, an edge is lifted. Delicately, follow the line of the folded foil, lifting until resistance is felt or seen. Work around the top edge, carefully lifting and unfolding to expose the chocolate. Repeat at the bottom, anticipation rising, and roll the egg out of the foil. It catches on stickiness at the final moment and tears. Bother. Eat the egg and start again!

HER AND ME

She smiled, put down her glasses and crossed the room to me. On her way she turned the lights down and I felt my tension rise a little. We’d already been talking intimately and now she was taking control. She sat closely and leant forward. I felt a little awkward, not knowing quite what to do as she leant so close I could feel her warm breath on my cheek. The atmosphere was so charged, it was as if lightning flashed between us. She smiled as she stood up again; “thank you Mr Baker, your eyes are just fine. Goodbye” 

Tim

The Godfather - Part I

When he awoke Nathan found himself tied to a chair. Don Pellegrini sat opposite him, also bound.

‘What the...’, said Nathan.

‘Aren’t you the guy who mugged me?’, said the Don

‘Maybe... but  I didn’t ...’

‘No that’d be the two guys over there  – they have business with me – you just got picked up accidently ’

The first guy came over and began beating the Don. Eventually he cracked.

The second guy untied Nathan.

‘Sorry boss,’ he said. ‘We knew you’d kill him before he gave us the code. We had to tie you up.’

‘That’s OK Max,’ said Nathan.

The Godfather - Part II

Max poured cold water over Don Pellegrini, whilst Nathan flexed his wrists. 

- Sorry to wake you up granddad. It's just that your security is better than we thought. We need a bit more info from you and then you can go back to sleep.

- You'll never get away with this.

- I think we have, granddad. We already have.

- Less of the granddad, you ignorant...

- But that's exactly who you are, isn’t it? Remember sending Rosa off for an abortion do you? 

- She never…

- Seems she was further along than you thought, granddad.

 
The Godfather - Part III

The fourth person in the room stepped forward and removed her balaclava.

- Phew… hot wearing that… Hello dad.

- Rosa? … You did all this?

- More a joint effort since I got in touch six months ago, said Nathan.

- Yes, you robbed us of twenty five years – so we thought we’d return the favour.

- By beating me and taking my money? It’s not the same thing.

- No it’s not is it? said Rosa. Meet Max – he’s about to retire to a house in the country.

- Got your cellar all ready for you, said Max.

Flowers for all occasions

The florist’s shop was in the atrium of the hotel.

- Could I have two dozen lilies please? said the assassin.

The glass-sided lift made it simple for the assassin to spot his target. The only difficulty would be in getting close.

The target, as usual, was shielded by bodyguards but the assassin was making his move today because one of them was new.

The assassin smiled as he barged past the clueless bodyguard and thrust the pollen-heavy lilies under the target’s nose.

- These are for you, he said as the target wheezed, reddened, choked and died.


We call it the Water Planet

We call it the Water Planet; you call it Earth. We think we are more accurate, since two thirds of the surface is covered in water, but we accept that there are other points of view.

We have been watching you for some time. We have even attempted to make contact, but we have become used to being misinterpreted and misunderstood. Frankly, we don’t understand what you are up to, so why should you understand us? Our needs are simple. We like our families, we like to sing and we like to hunt and eat. You, on the other hand, seem obsessed with work and your idea of progress. Your ‘primitive’ forefathers spent sixteen hours a week hunting and preparing food. The rest of the time they could sit around their fires, tell stories and sing; we should have tried communicating with them.

We used to like watching you. It was quite amusing to see how the clever apes conquered the world, but now you are the worst enemy of virtually every form of life on this planet. Some of our friends, like the whales, are almost extinct and only rats and cockroaches really appreciate what you have done to the place.

So that’s why we have decided to get rid of you. We have been using simple biological approaches for a while now; think AIDS, SARS and bird flu, but you seem quite good at working hard to contain epidemics. Our latest and last was developed by an internet using rat-hive mind It is a super-virulent airborne form of ergotism that will lead to dance mania and death. The rats assure us that you will not be able to dance and carry out genetic research at the same time.   

Very soon now you will begin dancing and, if the dancing plague of 1518 is anything to go by, most of you will be gone within four days. We suggest that you find someone you love and dance away the time you have left in one another’s arms.

To paraphrase T S Eliot, who wrote so amusingly about cats,

This is the way the world ends
Not with a bang but with a rumba

Yours finally

The Dolphins

John.