I eavesdrop on the couple sitting next to me. Two things become apparent:
…They are planning the ultimate holiday.
…They hate each other.
It is the hatred of familiarity – barbed leaping impatience that turns what should be joyous into something tense and spiteful.
Their plight is fascinating to me and I begin typing out their story – small and discrete at first, but then, possessed of a curious desire to reveal my voyeurism, I increase the font size so that they cannot fail to see.
‘Why are you always going off on pointless tangents? Don’t close the itinerary! I hadn’t finished…that man’s writing down what we say…Look…I want you to do something about it…Because it’s creepy…God you’re so weak!’
In even larger font I type:
‘…THINK THEY’RE ONTO ME.
THEY SEEM SO SAD.’
My phone rings which has the effect of shielding me from conflict
‘Hey…Nothing much…Sure, I’ll pop around.’
As I chat the couple leave separately.
I have been immeasurably cruel.
Or I have done them a great kindness.
2. Horse found guilty. Hung like donkey
3. Hypnotist accidentally becomes ballerina whilst shaving
4. Cat-astrophy foiled. Lack of opposable thumbs
5. ‘Greety Gobshites,’ shouted inept alien ambassador
6. Deceased adulterer dreads wife’s heavenly arrival
7. Sexist’s amnesty at your mom’s house
9. Gardening blood-bath. Game of Gnomes
10. Chewbacca shaves and walks amongst us
11. Narcissist dies. Becomes ghost. Haunts himself
12. Motivational speaker believes himself into shark
13. Met God. Nice crib. Very roomy
14. Once upon a monster’s ass-crack
15…And JayZ lived rappily ever after
Previous efforts at: Six Word Stories #4
He jumped the security barrier and made it to the chairman’s office before being wrestled to the ground.
‘THEY’RE KEEPING THEM IN PENS,’ he howled, ‘RODENTS PUMPED UP TO THE EYEBALLS ON STEROIDS…’
The chairman came out of his office accompanied by a journalist.
‘…RUNNING ROUND WHEELS, GETTING BIGGER…TILL THEY GRADUATE TO BIKES HOOKED UP TO GIANT TURBINES…’
The man was dragged away, leaving behind a crumpled photo.
The chairman scoffed.
‘You’ll note that these conspiracists only ever have grainy pictures to substantiate their ludicrous claims…and as for your assertion that we’re in the throes of an energy crisis…’
Behind him the corridor lights flickered…
Written for: Friday Fictioneers
The siren spotted the sailor on the deck of his boat.
‘Look at that rippling torso,’ she sang. ‘It’ll be weeks before I need to eat again!’
Written for: Twittering Tales
The trees that grow in Perdition have the structure of tortured souls seeking to escape the scorched earth, reaching or hanging ashen like expended husks. They are the product of neglect and malice; of half-remembered dreams – places endured and wandered through in a distressing deja-vu.
I happen upon the clearing again. It is part of my punishment to relive the hollow discovery time and time over. I cannot remember what is it that I did to deserve such terrible retribution, or why the concept of duration should fill me with dread…
I have the suspicion that I have been here forever.
A fire has ravaged my throat and my mind. Blurred corporeal entities vie for attention. Thoughts break apart under scrutiny.
Up ahead – the outline of a figure. How long is it since I conversed with another? Silent words form on my lips and I plunge forward through tearing thorns. Despite my passionate pursuit the figure slips further and further away. I emerge alone in a clearing where hellish limbs claw their way out of the…
Written for: Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers
Treacherous little Philip – slipped across the great divide and crowned me ‘Last man standing’. The funeral brought matters into sharp focus. When my time came there’d be no one left to see me off. Jeffrey would’ve marvelled at how fat I’d become, but alas drink took him in the 80s, and Shamus would’ve positively pulsated at the possibility of swearing in church, but a black ball of mutated cells multiplied him out of existence a few seasons back.
My family were in attendance. They’re waiting for funds to be released.
I thought back through my greatest achievements: A bunch of semi-estranged kids, fourteen pairs of bosoms successfully manhandled (if memory serves), a brief stint as a deep-sea diver. Everything else paled…
As they carried out the coffin a leather-clad grandson spoke at me as though I was deaf, dumb and incontinent (Am I the one who failed his driving test four times? Stupid little shit!)
They’re all itching to have me declared insane (which indeed I am for putting up with their sponging ass-clownery for so long).
At the graveside I made a pledge:
I’m getting out of here Philip. I’ve cleaned out the bank accounts – Seventy grand! Should keep me in viagra and hookers for the better part of three years. As for the rest – one call to Montegues (I declare that I am of sound body and mind) and it all gets liquidated.
It’s a Catch-22 that my pursuit of a better life will be seen as dementia. I’ll just have to be a ninja at covering my tracks. I’ve given enough to these terrible people. Time to hit the road Jack. Good luck and God speed. The cash machine is no longer is service.
My eldest, Jacob, owns (or should I say owned) a convertible.
I’ll raise a glass to you Philip when I get where I’m going, but between then and now there’s a pressing need to open up the throttle and blast some air through the ole comb-over…
2. Henry emerged from teleporter half hoover
3. Jesus’ fingerprints found on bunny’s corpse
4. Hell fails Ofsted inspection. Heads roll
5. Santa incarcerated after elf sweatshop raid
7. Brian May enters Nazareth riding badger
8. Miniturised man bites sleeping bed-bug
9. Jewish bank denies holocaust-denyer’s loan
10. Dustin Hoffman obsesses over Rainman sequel
12. Average white band received lacklustre review
13. Velociraptor sues over ‘chicken-splicing’ debacle
14. Terrible first date inside troll’s stomach
15. Dyslexic divorcees win custody of diks
See previous: Six Word Stories #3