Category: 500 Words or Less

I Chose Poorly

The door to the one-room cabin slammed open, A man’s voice boomed, “Annie!”

Annie jolted up and pushed me out of bed. I bit back a curse when my breast scraped the uneven hardwood. The man strode to the bed and sat on the edge. I sucked in as the mattress sagged dangerously under his weight.

“You wearing anything under that sheet?” His voice dropped a pitch.

“What do you think?” Annie asked.

He chuckled and swung his feet up onto the bed. Annie shrieked, and as the mattress smashed me into the floor, I did, too.

“What the hell?” The man roared, jumped off the bed, and wrenched me out. “Why is there a naked woman under our bed?”

She sat up, bare to the waist. “Because I was screwing her.”

Ummm…

“Another one? Don’t you ever learn?”

I gaped at Annie. “Another what now?”

She waved me off, and my stomach trembled.

“I’m not letting you get rid of this one,” she said.

Get rid of…

“No?” His pulled a wicked knife.

Annie pulled a gun from behind the headboard, and shot him point-blank in the face.

I screamed.

“Shush!”

“But you just killed a man.”

“Yes. I just killed a man. I’m tired of him offing my pets. Pack your things.”

“Pets…?” Oh God. “But you said…”

“I loved you? That’s what you say when you screw someone. Now pack.”

I looked into her mad eyes, then down at the dead man. I packed my things.

Submitted for Thursday Threads, Week 169: The Weird, the Wild, and the Wicked.
Required Phrase: “I just killed a man.”
Placed: Honorable Mention

Read Silver James’s story here – she was the week’s winner: Thursday Threads – Week 169 – Winners

TT_honmention

#3LineThursday Entry: Dandelion on Black

Like me, this flower has lost its seeds.
We have been stripped by others before we were ready.
White seeds float to birth anew; mine are simply dead.

__

Submitted for #3LineThursday Week 32. Requirements:

  • 3 lines only
  • No more than 10 words per line
  • Forbidden words: Dandelion, Weed, Black
  • Based on picture found here: #3LineThursday Week 32

 

The Informant

The old beggar in the theater alley saw all. He called himself Shaheed, and in Mac’s line of work, she cared little for the truth of names.

“Ah, coffee and company.” Shaheed’s bones popped as the pile of rags against the brick wall coalesced into something human.

“Maple latte.” Mac handed him the warm cardboard cup.

Shaheed sipped and sighed, sending some centipede-like thing back into the depths of his beard. “Story time, Aadi?”

Not her name or the pseudonym she’d given him. She’d asked what it meant once, but he’d just smiled. She still had nightmares about the man’s teeth. “Tell me what you’ve seen.”

“Yesterday it began.” He chuckled and shook his head. “I am wrong again. The beginning was centuries ago. Yesterday the end began.”

Ugh. One of his crazy days.

“You doubt me, Aadi, but the one you seek changes everything.” He fumbled in his rags, unhousing some kind of mutant roach. “I know it’s here.” The mountains of fabric around him squealed. “Aha. The ticket.”

Mac tried not to touch his fingers as she accepted, and she ignored the warning prickle running up the back of her neck. “He will be there, then.”

“You will find what you need. Now go.”

206 Words
Written for: Flash! Friday
Required story element (this week: character. The below character type must be your story’s central focus):


spy_FF

 

 

 

 

 

Photo Prompt:

The Beggar. CC2.0 photo by Foto_Michel.

The Beggar. CC2.0 photo by Foto_Michel.

 

 

 

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