As an immortal it was necessary to fake one’s own death once in a while. It wouldn’t do to live suspiciously long or be the last man at the party. As such his latest manifestation, Raymond Brinegeld, sleazy lawyer and hopeless gambler, had to go.
He left ample clues as to the cause of his demise – bank statements denoting desperation and a pyramid of addiction. The dog bowl filled with vodka was a nice touch.
Far away in a fortress filled with priceless antiquities dating back to the dawn of time he selected a new identity and strode forth, unblemished once more, into the world.
Written for: Friday Fictioneers
With Faithful Jenny deliberately scuttled there was no going back. The rip-tides in the bay were well renowned, and the lack of a body would be easily explainable.
He outstretched his arms and let go of everything – his materialistic trophy wife, the kids who hated him, the stock portfolio, the endless competing with other alphas – all expelled in a single glorious belch of freedom.
Hidden behind a rocky outcrop he encountered two other men – one standing in the mangled wreckage of a hang glider, the other kneeling by a bloated cadaver. He greeted them with nervous exhilaration and gave a false name as he’d been instructed. They reciprocated.
‘The likeness is uncanny,’ he commented, gesturing towards the cadaver.
”I paid extra. It’s a little macabre stealing from a morgue, but it’s not like anyone was murdered!’
A speedboat was moored at the tip of the archipelago. With a fair wind they’d be in Gibraltar by morning where a vagabond utopia awaited…
Written for: Flash Fiction For Aspiring Writers