The Unsurvival Kit

Reads: 65  | Likes: 3  | Shelves: 1  | Comments: 7

More Details
Status: Finished  |  Genre: Flash Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic


Please note that this is intended to be read as a black comedy. I'll put a trigger warning on it, just in case.

Submitted: June 02, 2018

A A A | A A A

Submitted: June 02, 2018

A A A

A A A


The Unsurvival Kit

My Momma always promised to teach me well. While other kids in the area were being taught the basics of survival, I was learning to put together my own Unsurvival Kit. My Momma, well, she was always kind of different to the others.

Life,” she would say to me, “is one hell of a bitch. Just when you’re knocked down, she’ll turn around, jump on your back and pulverize you to the ground.”

Everyone else seemed to be learning that life is what you make it, that anything is possible. They all laughed at me and shook their heads, but I didn’t care. After all, weren’t my Mommas’ words proved to be right each and every day.

One day she sat down with me, ready to have a serious discussion. I could tell it was going to be serious from the low level remaining in the whisky bottle. She took a long, hard swig, rested her elbows on the table and stared at me. I hate being stared at but just as I was about to get up and walk off she began to speak.

Debbie, you and me need to have a long hard discussion.”

Okay, Momma. What about? I’ve been a good girl like you told me to be.”

She shook her head. “No, it’s not about the birds and the bees, not this time. You need to put it together, your unsurvival kit. Once you’ve got it prepared, keep it with you at all times.....Just in case.”

She had my attention as she listed out the basics. A bottle of whisky, not to be opened. She would supply that. Assorted pills, they had to be the right sort, ones that were both strong and were not supposed to be mixed. She’d supply them too. I’d never realised my Momma was such a resourceful person!

But there were other things that she said I’d need to acquire myself. A good sharp craft knife, unless I could manage to somehow get hold of a scalpel. And rope.

Rope, mind you. Not string. You want the thick stuff, that will take the strain.”

I wasn’t really sure what she was talking about until she said to make sure there was a tree nearby, one with good strong branches. That’s when it clicked in my head exactly what she meant.

And, you know, I gathered it up, my Unsurvival Kit. And I keep it safe and well hidden. After all, I never can tell when I might need it.

My Momma though, she died. Stepped off the side-walk in front of a truck. No one could tell if it was deliberate or not; but I don’t think so. I think it was a freak accident. After all, her own Unsurvival Kit was untouched.


© Copyright 2018 hullabaloo22. All rights reserved.

Add Your Comments:

Comments

avatar

Author
Reply

avatar

Author
Reply

avatar

Author
Reply

avatar

Author
Reply

avatar

Author
Reply

avatar

Author
Reply

avatar

Author
Reply

More Flash Fiction Short Stories