Flash Fiction Collection

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Flash Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic

So far there are 8 stories in this collection. They are short, quick reads. Stories range from crime to drama and even the out of this world.

Submitted: June 30, 2018

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Submitted: June 30, 2018



The South Side

He had been on the beat for fifteen years.  The south side was a dirty place.  Hookers lined the corners alongside the drug dealers and murderers for hire.  Daily, bloody fights for territory were a common occurrence.  It had the look of a war zone with all of the dilapidated buildings, bullet holes in the street signs, and the local gangs and other riff-raff openly conducting their business.  Most cops would quit rather than patrol this neighborhood.  Not old Chucky, though. 

Chucky started down in the war zone, as it was affectionately known, when he was twenty-two, he was now thirty-seven but looked every day of sixty.  He had won more shootouts then the entirety of the police force combined had ever seen.  Chucky had also taken more bullets then he could count.  He found a way to survive down here though. 

At first, he did not like bending the law but now he brazenly broke the law to keep the peace.  The gun battles began to dwindle over the last two years, as Chucky's morals crumbled.  He brokered deals between rival gangs and made solo gung-ho busts on new gangs trying to encroach on the area.  He had become something like a mayor to the people of the South Side.  He also became addicted to the lifestyle. 

The Chief did not like what had happened to Chucky.  He even offered him a promotion to get him off the streets.  The promotion would have put him behind a desk making a lofty salary.  Without hesitation, Chucky turned it down and The Chief was concerned. 

Bodies had been turning up on the North Side lately.  The bodies were not just turning up though; they were placed with a purpose, almost as if to send a message.  The Chief did not want the problems of the South Side scum on his side of town.  Even more so, he did not want one of his own involved; he was afraid Chucky was in a bit too deep. 

The Chief figured it was time to take a trip to the South Side.  He found Chucky down on the corner talking with the whores.  The Chief stood on the opposite corner observing.  Chucky seemed very friendly with the prostitutes.  A man cockily walked around the corner and shook hands with Chucky.  It seemed that the guy handed something over.  Chucky laughed and joked with the guy then crossed the road.  The Chief decided to tail him for a while to see what was going on. 

Several blocks later Chucky strolled up to a house, kicked a door in and The Chief heard four shots crack through the silent air.  A truck pulled up shortly after; three guys jumped out and helped Chucky drag the bodies to the back.  The guys in the truck left while Chucky crossed the road. 

The Chief snuck up behind him giving him quite a start. 

"Damn boss you scared me!  What're you doing down here?  Where's your car?"  Chucky asked. 

"I came down here to see why bodies are popping up on the North Side."  The Chief replied. 

"I mean we've got the violence down but it's not perfect yet."  Said a nervous sounding Chucky."Things happen down here boss and I can only do so much but it's getting better." 

The Chief started, "I want you to know something.  I know what you did, I know what you've been doing."

"I've been doing what I was sent here to do and that's clean this mess up.  I don't see anyone else down here doing it, especially you.  This is the first time I've seen you down here in eight or so years.  I'm not always proud of the way I have to do things but it's gotta get done!"  Chucky said as he started wondering how much The Chief had seen. 

"Oh, I don't give a damn about the killing, the deal-making, the lawbreaking.  What I do care about is my boys." The Chief said in an ominous, almost threatening manner. 

Chucky was confused, "What do you mean your boys?  No cops have been getting killed down here.  I'm the only cop with the balls to be here." 

"Not the uniforms, my boys.  The ones you or your friends have been killing and sticking on my side of town.  We need more territory, our operation is expanding."  The Chief explained. 

It just was not clicking for Chucky.  He did not know where The Chief was headed with this.  The Chief pulled his gun from his holster.  He shot Chucky once in each knee.  Chucky fell to the ground, in disbelief. 

"The North Side gangs decided on a sort of peace treaty last week.  They've been getting into business down here but now they're being sent back dead.  Like I said, we need more room and you have not been letting that happen.  So thanks for your years of service with the force."  The Chief explained, then raised his gun and shot Chucky between the eyes. 




The Lawyer

Mac had just finished decimating the prosecutor's case leading him to his biggest victory to date.  He exited the federal courthouse with his jet black, slicked-back hair and the finest shit-eating grin anyone had ever seen.  The media cameras flashed all around him.  He looked like a million bucks.  The dirt bag's lawyer, a title the media gave him, felt like a star for the moment.  Even with rotten tomatoes, eggs, and all other sorts of debris flying his way, his flashy white teeth sparkled into the camera like a movie star; he seemed unfazed by the commotion, he actually seemed to relish it. 

By his demeanor, you would have thought he had been winning like this for years.  You might have even thought he was big-league.  However, for those that knew him, they knew he had been living out of his car for at least a year and he had not won a case, which mattered anyways, in at least five years.  He represented the most disgusting of the disgusting.  Criminals so disturbing their own mothers wished them to hell.  They had no cash, no collateral; they had nothing to offer.  His clients were broke, so he was broke. 

Today, though, he was a star.  His client was guilty as all hell but on a technicality and a little bit of coercion, he utterly devastated the prosecution's whole case.  Because of his win, he would go home a millionaire.  Since his client's assets, legally, could not be seized, he was finally getting a payday.  His client, Victor "The Vulture" Killoway, promised him a cool mil if he won the case.  Of course, there was little hope of a victory from the beginning.  Mac pulled it off though and tonight he was going to celebrate. 

The press was shouting questions left and right so Mac took a moment to answer a few. 

"How are you going to live with yourself knowing you put a sick, disgusting, and obviously guilty man back on the streets today?"  Screamed the reporter who was shoving a microphone in his face.

"Well, that's easy, my payday.  Moreover, he was found to be innocent by a jury of fellow citizens who were brought here to serve justice.  They found there was no justice to serve so he is a free man who must not have been as obviously guilty as you thought he was!"  Mac retorted with the pure contempt for the long-legged beauty of a reporter. 

"How can you say…" A violent explosion at the doors of the courthouse cut off the next reporter's voice.  Mac looked around nervously, temporarily deafened by the explosion.  He could see people screaming, running for safety but he froze from shock.  A leg landed in front of him, his stomach lurched, and he just barely managed to keep the last of his undigested lunch down.  He turned his attention from the leg to the streets where hundreds of people were fleeing, some being mowed down by the traffic fleeing the chaotic scene.

Mac finally started to snap out of the shock.  He started to walk down the long steps to the sidewalk when three heavily armed men came rushing up the steps.  They raised their guns in unison, fired and hit their target.  He felt the two bullets lodge into his ribcage and tear through his backside but he never felt the bullet that lodged into his frontal cortex.  His death was instant.  So was his client's death whose leg was lying underneath his crumpled and lifeless body. 


The Short Saga Of Harry

Harry's shaggy hair was whipping in the luxurious breeze blowing in from the sea.  The water glistened; the temperature was perfect.  Harry felt his life was about to get much better.  See, Harry has had a rough streak of luck.  To be exact he has never had much good luck at all.  His streak of bad luck had actually been an ongoing affair for the last thirty-four years, which coincidentally, was how old he had just turned.  To put it plainly Harry's life had sucked with a capital S.  His parents had decided to name him Harry after his father's grandfather but his mother wanted her grandfather's name in there too, so, he ended up with the unfortunate name of Harry Dick Peters.  As you would imagine his name had caused him a lifetime of hairy dick jokes.


Nevertheless, today, today was going to change it he just knew it.  Why you might ask.  His friends' cousin, Geoff, invited him to a sort of conference.  This was no regular conference though.  This conference was going to change his life he told him.  Plus, he could not help but be enthused by this gorgeous weather, the flashy appeal of the signs outside of the meeting hall, and the overall sense of positivity coming from those also attending this massive get together.  There had to be at least a thousand people cramming into this place.  Although his friends' cousin had occasionally cracked a hairy dick joke Harry thought if he could figure out his secret maybe things would change for him too.  Which is how he wound up here.

Once the seats filled, the lights began to dim.  It had gotten dark but with a low glow emanating from the middle of the stage.  Then an explosion shook Harry's eardrums; he was shocked the building did not come crashing down around and on top of them.  A bright flash from the stage nearly blinded everyone there.  Great, he was thinking, not only would he not be able to hear the conference he also would not be able to see it. 

Slowly, he was able to hear again.  The gray that had dimmed his vision after the astounding flash had mostly disappeared.  Oddly, he knew he could hear but all he could hear was silence, almost as if he was the only one left in the building.  Not only was it silent but the low glow on the stage had disappeared and it had become pitch black.  In fact, it had become so dark he could not see his hands an inch from his face.  He started to go into a mild panic.  Just as his heart started pounding hard in his chest, a low blue light slowly lit the room.  He was able to, albeit vaguely, see the other people but at least they were there.  It was still deathly silent but he was not alone as he feared.


Moments later a low humming interrupted the eerie silence.  The hum vibrated in the depths of his body.  It paralyzed him.  He could not move.  He tried to look at Geoff but he could not even move his head.  Panic tried to rush in but calm washed over him.  Visions started to play out in front of him.  Strange visions.  They almost seemed real.  He saw himself walking in front of an all-glass office building; a building of importance.  As he watched himself walk into the building, Harry noticed the elevators.  The elevators went way, way up.


As he continued to watch himself, he noticed that there were no other people in this building.  It was huge but it seemed to be abandoned.  He watched himself get onto the elevator.  The buttons didn't have numbers on them but there had to be hundreds of floors.  The button for the highest floor had been pushed and the elevator jolted upwards fast enough that his dream self could not move; gravity was forcing his feet to stick to the floor.


As he watched himself finally get near the top of the mysterious building the elevator slowed down in a way that allowed him to maintain his balance rather than crash to the ground or fly through the roof from the abrupt stop.  The elevator door opened to a room that seemed to be engulfed in the night sky.  It appeared to be above the earth.  He stepped out of the elevator onto a matte gray metal floor.  The room was not as big as he imagined and it was surrounded by one large window that went from the floor to the ceiling in a dome shape.  He was literally on top of the world.  It was an amazing scene but also terrifying.


While he was standing there in awe, the realization hit him that he was no longer watching himself; he was actually there.  As soon as the realization struck him a voice boomed out "YOUR WISH IS GRANTED!"  He was confused because he didn't remember wishing for anything except a better life.  On occasion, he had wished to be alone, away from all the snickering and vulgar jokes made at the expense of his name.


The voice only spoke that one time.  Somehow, he knew he needed to get back on the elevator.  He pushed the button for the bottom floor as he braced himself for the jolt.  The jolt was intense, as expected, but as he flew towards the bottom of the building a loud clap of thunder and a bright flash of light caught him off-guard.  He had no idea what it was.  The elevator came to a slow stop.  While the elevator stopped, he realized he was watching himself again.  He wondered if the whole time he was watching himself and was just so immersed in what was happening he thought he was there.


After a few moments, the vision was over, the blue light was gone, and he no longer heard the hum, or felt paralyzed by it.  It actually appeared to be sunny but as he recalled there were no windows in the conference hall.  As he gained his senses back it occurred to him he was in his bedroom.  Had he just had the most intense dream ever?  It just didn't seem possible.  It seemed too real.


He stumbled out of his bed on watery legs.  Once his legs recovered he made his way towards the bedroom door.  He opened it and walked towards his balcony.  He stopped in mid-stride as he took notice that his TV wasn't there nor was his phone, laptop, or tablet.  He thought maybe he had been robbed while he was gone if he had ever really left.  He finished making his way to the balcony door.  As he stared out to the balcony a strange scene materialized in front of him.  In the middle of the city he lived, there was nothing but forest and his building.  There were no streets, no buildings, no people.  Now he thought he must be dreaming.  He slapped his face a few times then ran to the sink to splash cold water on his face but there was no sink or refrigerator or any modern day facilities for that matter.  In a full panic, Harry ran out of his apartment into the hallway to another strange scene; there were no other apartment doors just walls lining the hallway.  As he sprinted to the door leading outside he tripped just before he reached it.  From the floor, he looked outside to see just a forest floor and trees towering over him and his building.


Harry was back in his apartment feeling more scared than he had ever been in his life.  He had no clue what was happening.  What happened to Geoff and the thousand other people at the conference?  What happened to the rest of the city?  Then it occurred to him.  His wish had come true.  He was all alone.








A Complicated Romance

It is cold out tonight.  I mean downright bitter.  It does not matter to me.  I feel on top of the world tonight.  I have that warm fuzzy feeling you get when you are so excited you cannot contain it anymore. 

"Isn't it beautiful out here?"  I asked a random passerby.  They looked at me with that look people use when a drunken whino comes up begging for money.  But, I don't care.  She will be here soon; we will finally be together forever.  I cannot wait to start our new life together. 

She is beautiful; I have been seeing her for, going on, two years now.  Her hair is darker than a moonless night, her eyes, big and Bambi-like, glow with passion.  Her skin is smooth and flawless; her smile brightens up the darkest day. 

I sent her the text this morning, she sounded relieved to be going out tonight.  It was a hard day at work for her.  As an emergency pediatrics nurse, she definitely had her fair share of hard days.  The day I met her was the hardest day of my life.  My eight-year-old son had passed away in her arms.  His mother had died two years before so he was all I had left.  I was devastated but she did her best at comforting me.  Even in the state I was in that day, I knew she would be mine. 

I texted her to see how close she is.  She is taking a cab and will be here in ten minutes she said.  Even with the cold, my palms are starting to sweat.  I never imagined I would do something like this.  Here comes a taxi.  It is not her.  She will be here soon.  My teeth are chattering partly from the cold but the nerves are getting to me too. 

This one has to be her.  It is, man does she look good tonight.  As she steps out of the cab in her striking red dress and her dark hair flowing down to the middle of her back she glances in my direction.  I wave at her to get her attention. 

"Hi, you must be Michael," she says "I haven't been out in a long time and after the day I've had this is going to be just what I need.  I'm so happy to meet you."

Of course, she does not remember me but I keep it cordial.  "It's a pleasure to meet you and if you don't mind me saying you look stunning tonight." 

"Thank you!  What are the plans for the night?"  She asked.

I reply, "First let's get to my car to get warm, it's parked right over here." 

As we crossed the street, I could not help but glance at her.  The big night was finally here.  I had been waiting nearly two years for this.  I point her towards my van.  Like a gentleman, I open the door for her.  As she is turning to ask me where the front seat is at, I decide it is time.  I yank the gag out of my pocket and force it around her mouth as I shove her into the van.  I jump into the driver's seat, start the van, and begin driving. 

"I think we're going to have a night in tonight,"  I explain to her.  "I guess you don't remember me but I remember you.  I remember everything about you and the day you killed my son." 

Her eyes widened with terror as she realized who I was.  Her muffled screams were not bothering me.  "You told me he was going to be alright but he wasn't, he died and you didn't do anything to help him.  You say you tried but I know you didn't do everything you could.  He would have been ten today, did you know that?"  That's all I want to tell her for now.  Fifteen more minutes and I will have her with me forever. 

As we pull up to my house, she starts trying to scream again.  "I live in the middle of nowhere, no one's gonna hear you.  You know my wife died out here two years before my son died in your arms." 

I drag her out of the van.  She is putting up a fight but she will give up soon.  Finally, we made it inside.  I have not cleaned much lately so I hope she does not mind the mess or the roaches too much. 

"I'm sorry I had to do this but I love you.  But I hate you too.  This is all for the best though.  I have a room for you.  I've seen your apartment so I know what you like.  I tried to make it nice for you."  I told her, as I took her to her new room.  "You won't get out much but you'll have me to keep you company.  I'll feed you and take care of you so we can grow old together.  This is going to be nice isn't it?"







The Last Trip

In the end, it was not worth it.  I knew it was going bad right from the start.  The signs were all there.  Jimmy, Mike, Sam, we all knew something was off.  I can't explain it, it's just one of those feelings you get and we all had it. 

"Shut up in there!"  That guy never stops.  Damn close spaces will drive you nuts. 

The cells in here are right next to each other.  You can hear the guy next door breathing like he is right on top of you.  You can smell when they defecate.  The conditions are appalling. 

We were sightseeing.  Stopping at brothels, local pubs, sipping on local brews; we were enjoying the excursion.  We had been planning this since high school.  We have known each other since kindergarten. 

On the flight from Amsterdam to Budapest, we enjoyed a couple drinks.  The next thing we knew we were waking up in the back of a van.  The windows must have been painted black because I could not see a thing outside.  I could hear muffled voices and tried to respond but I had been gagged. 

"Will somebody shut that guy up!"  I swear if he doesn't shut up I'm going to reach through the bars and strangle him. 

We had finally arrived at wherever it is we stopped.  The masked men opened the back doors, charged in, and prodded us out.  Jimmy, Mike, and Sam hit the ground and started running.  They shot all three in the back of their heads.  I bawled as they shoved my face in the dirt.  I cried the whole way to the cell I am in now.  I ran out of tears about an hour ago. 

Finally, the guards are coming to shut my neighbor up.  They are walking right past his cell into mine.  The guy with the gun is poking me in the side with it, I guess telling me to stand up but he doesn't speak English.  A noose is being wrapped around my neck.  The top of the rope being tied to the pipes on the ceiling.  The three guards yank the rope.  This is my last thought; what a trip. 












Maximum Security: The SHU

Part One


My name is Jack Keyes. People think it is funny to call me Jackie. I hate it! Ask my mother-in-law. Just run over to Peace Hills cemetery that will tell you everything you need to know. She is the bitch who put me here. Well, I guess I put myself here but I told her not to call me Jackie.

We were fighting that day. She referred to me as Jackie. I told her to shut her fucking mouth but she just kept pushing it. She was mad because the heist that morning almost went awry. When we got back to my house, she just kept on Jackie this, Jackie that than in came the baseball bat. My wife, Patricia, was screaming for me to stop but I had a bad habit of not quitting until the job was done. I hit her so hard with the first swing one of her eyeballs popped out of her head. Then again and her skull split right down the middle. There was a lot of blood. My wife passed out when our dog picked up her eyeball and had it as a snack.

Anyways, the robbery was enough to put me prison for 20 years but the vicious murder of my poor elderly mother-in-law was what got me 50 to life in max. I would have rather gotten the death penalty.

Max is a horrible place to go. The walls were just heavy duty, gray concrete walls with solid iron bars covering the tiny windows in the cells. It is very depressing. They locked us up for twenty-three of the twenty-four hours each day. That did not include meals and showers but I would rather have skipped those. The food was mush with a name to make it sound like food. The prisoners were rowdy. In addition, I had many enemies here.


Big Jim was on one of my first crews. We took out large jewelry stores and scored big. Unfortunately, for Jim, he was our distraction the day he became a rat in a cage. Hey, it was all part of the business. He was supposed to know when to get out of there. Instead, he shot two SWAT members right between the eyeballs. They wanted him alive so they wailed on him with beanbag bullets and nightsticks. He had welts the size of Russia from head to toe but lived so they sent him to max for life without a chance at parole.  He was a hurting man but he would be able to serve his sentence.

He blamed me for his failures in the heist but he knew the risks and the rules. It is what it is though. He is a big guy. He towered over most at six feet seven inches tall and weighed a staggering three hundred eighty pounds of pure muscle.  To call him large would be an understatement.  He has a deep scar running just under his left eye where the cops sliced him during interrogations. He wears his jet-black hair in a flattop cut so he looks like an evil drill sergeant. He always made me a little nervous.

Then there was Little Louis. Do not let that name fool you though. He mastered several different Japanese and Chinese fighting styles. He may have only been five and a half feet tall weighing in at just a hundred forty-five pounds but it took six cops to take him out when they busted him. He had decided to go rogue, abandoning my crew and starting his own. I got a little jealous because he was pulling off some big heists. Therefore, I may have tipped the cops off...maybe not. Call me a snitch or whatever the hell you want to call me but I called it protecting my business.

Last but certainly not least was my second in command; Brock Hughes. Brock was an average looking guy with an average build. You could never have known he was a cold-blooded killer. He handled most of our dirty work. He was directly responsible for at least thirty-five murders. He was vicious, bloodthirsty and batshit crazy. People trusted him though. He was charming, as I said average looking but he did have the bleach blonde hair and those steely blue eyes that present a sense of calm to the unwitting. Normally his victims were not calm when he was chopping off body parts or slicing throats from ear to ear. However, the sense of calm he portrayed hooked them in.


Since Big Jim, Little Louis and Brock had gotten to the max, it seemed like they had done well for themselves. They each had a large following. Brock even had a couple of guards he had smooth talked onto his payroll.

Being my first day, I did not know anybody but I was definitely known. The guys decided to lay out the welcome mat for me. It was not a pleasantly warm welcome though. My first meal in the joint and I got skipped. I walked through the line finally getting to the front, I hadn't eaten much in two days so anything looked good, but the dick behind the line shook his head as he shoveled the slop onto the guy's tray behind me.

I sat at one of the steel, bolted to the ground tables reserved for the outcasts of max. The crowd consisted of rapists, child molesters, and the mentally ill. By mentally ill I mean the schizophrenics, sociopaths, you know, the real psychos.  I was hungry but maybe at dinner I will get to eat something. Even a scrap would be cherished.

After my less than fulfilling lunch, I went back to my cell with my cellmate. He did not seem to know me or have a problem with me. He also was not very talkative. I sat there until dinnertime staring at the cell wall listening to the other rowdy prisoners hooting and hollering back and forth across cell block D.  Some of the noise was hard to stomach because every now and then you would hear a couple of guys going at it. Some of them willingly others screaming in agony at becoming their cellmates bitch.


Finally, dinnertime was here. I was hungry and I was hoping for food. I got to the front of the line again. This time they reached down to serve me something on my cheap plastic tray. The douche who would not feed me earlier plopped down a nice big, dead rat in the entree slot of my tray. I was hungry so, fuck it, I ate the damn thing. Then, when it was time to put our trays away, I hopped over the dinner tray cart pummeling the dick who served me the rat. By the time the guards got there, I had knocked out eight of his teeth, busted his nose and successfully sent him to the infirmary. As the guards were rushing me I grabbed a few of his teeth, shoved them back in his mouth and made him eat them.

One day in and I was already in solitary, also known as the SHU or shoe. The conditions in the solitary housing unit were much worse than the cells up top, but at least I was alone. There were no windows. The hole in the door only opened when a guard was bringing dinner or just wanted to spout some shitty comment to us dirty criminals. I only had to spend two days in the shoe for my first time, which I was okay with. It was psychotically peaceful.

That was my first day in max. I have been here three weeks now. Shit has not gotten any better but I have been able to avoid too much trouble from my old crew. The weekends were the hardest because we had more free time. Rather than the one hour during the week, we had six hours. We got track time, library time, visitors if anyone visited us, and TV time. I chose library time most weekends than back to my cell to read. This weekend will be my fourth weekend. I have to find a different hobby because I am tired of just sitting and reading. This weekend I am just saying fuck it and going out to do something different. I need a change. I cannot read every weekend for the rest of my life I will go nuts.








Part Two

Friday through Sunday are the days we get six hours of free time.  I am enjoying my jog around the track.  This is the best I have felt since being locked up.  The air is crisp, biting with the first hints of a cool fall.  It is the best time of year when you are a free man, the best few hours of a weekend when you are stuck behind bars.  That is, as long as you can look past the fact that the track is just a circular section of cement with potholes every few feet.  You could break your ankles in them if you are not paying attention.  Of course, I think I would rather be out here than in my cell.  My cellmate has not been much more talkative since the day I started bunking with him.  He actually seems on the verge of a full mental breakdown.  Leaving all of that behind me I decided I would enjoy my first weekend out of my cell. 


After circling the track a few times, I decided to rest.  I sat on a bench as far away from everyone else as I could.  I may be getting out of my cell but I sure am not ready to mingle just yet.  As I was getting comfortable, I sensed a group of guys staring at me from a distance that probably did not want to make friends either.  Especially with me. 

I glanced back at them and then behind me hoping they were eyeing someone else, but there was just a barbwire fence there, so I knew they were eyeing me.  I recognized a couple of them; they were some of the assholes that became friends with Little Louis.  Then one of them started in "Jackie's a snitch, Jackie's a bitch, Jackie's gettin' stitched."  Then another one joined in and another as they headed my direction.  I could feel the anger building.  I wanted to rip the tall lanky one's jugular out.  Call me a snitch but do not call me Jackie.  As they got closer, it got louder "Jackie's a snitch, Jackie's a bitch, Jackie's gettin' stitched."  As they moved closer, they began to sound like a terrible choir.

I could not control it, just like a lion pouncing on his prey, I was up and off the bench trying to get that tall lanky bastards throat in my hands.  Unfortunately, I met up with the meaty one first.  I tried to get a swing in on him but someone grabbed my other arm while it was in its backswing.  Oh FUCK!  He snapped my pinky finger like a brittle twig.  The pain radiated through my entire arm but I was able to free my other arm so I turned and clocked the finger breaker.  His nose crumbled under my fist as blood spattered out of it.  I turned back around to get the tall lanky one again, why can't I just forget about him for now, when someone jabbed me with something sharp in my right thigh.  More pain but still no gain.  This was a losing battle.  Where the fuck are the guards?

I finally collapsed to the ground bloody, bruised, and brutalized.  Just as I heard the guards whistle, someone sliced off my left earlobe.  Everything went hazy then blurred and finally to black. 


I have been in the infirmary, unconscious apparently, for the last two days.  Everything is still a bit fuzzy but the pain has not faded.  I reached up to feel my ear because that was the last thing I remembered and it felt like I did lose the lobe maybe more.  I need a fucking mirror.  Then again, maybe I do not want to see myself.  I tried yelling for a doctor but nothing would come out.  What the hell?

An hour had passed when the doctor finally came in to see if I had woken up.  He looked surprisingly upset that I had, in fact, survived.  He explained to me that I had several broken ribs, my earlobe had gone missing, a couple teeth were gone, a few stitches in my legs, and while the guards were breaking the slaughter up someone accidentally stepped on my throat.  That is why my voice is not working.  Lovely.  As much as I would have loved to stay awake enjoying every minute of my pain and agony the doctor shot me up with some morphine. 


I am finally out of the infirmary.  It's Friday again but I think my cell is the safe bet this weekend.  Then again, I might have a plan.  It may be foolish but that is what a temper gets you. 

It is the last three hours of our free time for today.  I spotted Little Louis just a few minutes ago and decided to follow him.  He is dangerous, but this should be quick.  He was on his way to go meet his little groupies but I have something else in store for him.  I do not like getting beat down but I really do not like the fact that everyone was starting to call me Jackie around here.  Revenge is going to be swift and sweet. 

Looks like Louis is waiting to meet someone behind the guards' shack.  I sneak around the backside of the shack sitting there silently.  He is meeting with another prisoner.  I am twiddling my handy dandy handmade dagger thinking of how much fun this will be.  I do not want to kill him.  I do not want to risk having to serve my actual life sentence out.  Fifty with a chance of parole is better than life without a chance at parole. 

Here he comes.  He does not have a clue.  Just as he passes by me I jump out slice the backs of both of his ankles, one right after the other, and he falls over.  He is screaming loudly.  I should probably get out of here but there is just one more thing.  Using a fast sawing motion, I cut off the tip of his nose while he is convulsing, trying to squirm away from me.  He screams some more.  I drop his nose to the ground in front of him and run.  A minute or two later, while stalking Big Jim, I see the guards rushing over there. 

I know the lockdown whistle will be going off soon but I have to take the offensive here and strike while I can.  It all fits perfectly into my plan.  Big Jim is meeting with Brock.  I have them both in the same place at the same time.  I am within ten feet of them when the whistle blares its obnoxious howl.  They fall to the ground hands on their heads, which is procedure when the whistle goes off, while I lunge at them.  They did not see it coming.  I stabbed them both in the backs of their knees.  I then proceeded to bash their heads off the ground until the guards pounced on me.  They beat me good with their sticks but it was worth it.  I heard one of the guards yelling to Brock that they had me and not to worry.  I knew where I was going but that is all part of the plan.  My new home will be the shoe.  I do not know how long they will lock me down there but at least I will be safe.  I'm not getting killed in here. 





Part Three

"Hey! Piece of shit, hey!" The guard was screaming.

"Fuck you!" I yelled back.

The guard politely replied, "I've got a gift for you from one of your dirtbag buddies."

He handed me a damn noose with a note that said: HERE'S YOUR ONLY WAY OUT OF THE SHOE. God dammit! Must be from one of my good friends from the past.

I threw the noose back at the hole where the guards glaring eyes were watching me with delight. I am sure he was hoping to see a hanging this morning or whatever time of day it is.

I have been down here for four days but it is already getting hard to keep track of the time. With glorious wake-up calls like this one, you think I would be able to track them a little easier. Unfortunately, my wake up calls happen whenever they feel the need to wake me. Most likely, whenever one of my friends tells them to.  Seems they run the place. Anyways, I get a wakeup call at least every two or three hours. I have not slept much in the last several days.

It is funny; I thought I would be safer down here. I also thought I would finally get my meals. The first day no one showed up with food. The second day I got a slice of toast topped with a roach and some jam or someone's blood; I am not sure which but I did eat it. The third day was actual food. They must have been having fun so they decided to keep me alive by feeding me; it's no fun if I've starved to death. I got three full meals that day. Although, the last meal of the day did have a special treat under the entrée; several whole fingernails with some of the skin still attached. Oh well, at least I was full.

Now today I get a noose. I have not gotten any food yet. I am not sure what time of day it is since windows are nonexistent in the shoe. I can hear the crazies on the floor howling and catcalling the guards so it must be daytime.

The guard who tossed me the noose slowly opens the rusty-hinged door. As its squeaking open, another guard lunges through the partially open door screaming at me to stay back. I did until his club cracked me in the back of the head and I fell forward.

"What the fuck! I was as far back as I could get." I yelled at the overly aggressive guard.

"Shut up inmate scum! You're coming with us. There's a place worse than the shoe for trash like you." The burly guard was yelling.

They're suddenly dragging me down the rough concrete hallway. I can hear my prison clothes ripping; I feel cuts on my legs tearing open as they're pulling me along. I also see a little blood dripping from an apparent gash on the back of my head.

We finally get to a solid black, heavy metal door. One of the guards is pulling the door open. I can hear scratching along the concrete as he does. Suddenly they toss me in the room. The door slams shut.

"What the hell!" I'm screaming as someone grabs my hair, pulls me up and slams my ass down in a chair. "Hey, I mean it, what the fuck's going on?"

Someone savagely slams my hands down on the arm of the chair. They're strapping them down tight I guess so there is no wiggle room. I look up to see Brock and Big Jim sitting in a viewing room. I'm in the electric chair.

"Hey fuck you guys! You can't kill me here. The prison won't allow it. You might be able to torture me and trash me but you ain't getting away with killing me here." I'm screaming frantically, almost desperately now.

In his ever-so-smooth, know-it-all voice Brock says "Now, now Jackie you should know by now we can do as we please here. Isn't that right warden?"

"Sure as shit!" Says the warden.

"We don't want you dead yet Jackie boy. Don't worry, when we do, you will be. We just want to show you our gratitude for the other day." Says Brock as he lifts up his legs so I can see the bandages wrapped around his wounded knees.

"Get it over with then! Quit fucking around and cut me, rape me, beat me to hell and back just get it done and quit being a pussy!" I yelled.

"Oh, you'd like that. Something that would be easy to move on from. That's you always taking the easy way out. No...no this is going to be memorable for...haha...well all of us." Big Jim was speaking this time in his deep, baritone voice.

I started thrashing violently hoping to break a strap or tip the chair, but it was to no avail because the chair is bolted to the ground. I think this is my Waterloo. I'm probably going to wish I'd used that noose earlier today.

With a jolt, my already sore head was slammed into the back of the chair. That hurt. The guys behind me are strapping my head in now. Not the eyes, not the eyes. My eyes have been taped open as well. I hope this isn't some CIA strobe-light type shit.

"Well Jackie, now you get to see the whole show." Said Brock from behind the glass.

He disappeared for a moment. Now he's limping through the big black door. It looks like he's going to do some of the dirty work too.

He kneels down beside me staring at my feet like a rabid dog. He's nearly foaming at the mouth. He calmly grabs my right foot, strangely caresses it, holds his hand out behind him and a pair of needle nose pliers is dropped into his hand.

"This little piggy went to market, this little piggy was a bad little piggy...." Brock chanted.

"Aahhhh...you fucking psycho!" I screamed as he pulled the nail off of my big toe. The pain hits instantly and it is excruciating. Tears are running down my face since I can't shut my eyes. The worst part is having my head angled so I have to watch it. I can't look away. I see him looking at my hand now. He flips the pliers up, grips my pinky nail and tears. Blood squirts out hitting Brock in the face. He just smiles and wipes it away; he's done this a few times.

I'm starting to feel pretty woozy. He's got all my toenails off and I only have two fingernails left. I'm bleeding pretty good. Why am I still awake, oh that's right the adrenaline shot they gave me. They really did want me to see the whole show.

"I...I...I fucking get it, Brock. You gotta stop." I was pleading barely audible.

"But we're having so much fun. We haven't even got to reminisce about the old days yet." Said Brock, as he ripped one of my last two nails off.

Luckily my vision is getting really blurry so I can't see as much anymore. The shock is numbing the pain a bit. It still feels like a nail gun being shot in my fingertips but better then it felt earlier.

"DAMMIT!" there went the last nail.

"Well now wasn't that fun," said Brock, "I think we're almost done here, boys. But Jackie one more thing."

He took the pile of toe and fingernails and shoved them in my mouth. I tried spitting them out but he clamped my mouth shut I just don't have the strength to fight him. I refused to swallow them. He finally moved his hand, only because he's got vomit on it but at least he moved it.

"Shit Jackie now you've made a mess." He said. Everyone's chuckling behind him. "I guess you can go back to your room now. They got an execution soon."

"Third one this week," said the warden "I love roasting you dirtbags."

They finally unstrapped me. I closed my eyes for the first time in I don't even know how long. Whoever was behind me the whole time shoved me onto the floor. The pain is unbearable. I think I'm going to take that nap now.














Forbidden Love


Her beautiful brown puppy dog eyes looked into mine.  Her golden brown hair was highlighted by the setting sun.  We stood behind the silos hiding from her parents who had forbidden our love.  We kissed for the first time in a seemingly surreal setting.  The sky was filled with shades of red, pink and orange.The grass was even glowing that day.  I knew at that moment she was the one I would spend the rest of my life with.  As we stood googly eyed staring at each other and the amazing day that was ending before us I think we both knew we were meant to be.  A voice in the distance began screaming her name.  Our trance-like state had been interrupted.  The perfect day had come to an abrupt end.  She ran up the gravel road towards her house, the sun highlighting her beauty as she left.  I watched her leave, I yelled up to her to meet me there again tomorrow.

The next day I waited for her to show up at our spot but she did not come.  I waited again the day after that but she did not come.  I could not figure out what happened.  I went to our spot each day for the entire week.  She never came down there.  It was on a Sunday, her sister came running down the same gravel road I watched her leave on a week ago.  She told me her parents had left for the day and that she would be meeting me there soon.  I waited with a level of anticipation I did not know existed.  My heart raced, my stomach fluttered, my palms sweated.  I saw her at the top of the road.  She was wearing a white top covered by an orange sleeveless vest.  She looked amazing.  As soon as she saw me she started running.  She jumped into my arms as I wrapped them tightly around her.  She threw her arms around me and we held each other that way for the longest time.  We kissed and talked excitedly.  We headed down to the bike trail and walked for a few miles hand in hand to a bridge overlooking a creek.  We sat for hours while she chatted away about her week.  Her parents were upset that she wanted to keep seeing me so they had kept her locked up at home.  She said she wanted to see me more than anything.  They hated the idea of us together.  As she rambled on I pictured our future together.  It was a beautiful picture with kids, a big house, a couple of dogs and us in our porch swing watching sunsets like this every night.  She told me she loved me that evening and I told her I could not picture my life without her.  Then she had to leave.  Again I watched her disappear.  All the way watching her glowing features as she left me on the bridge.

A few days later I had got a message to her through her sister to come and meet me down at our silo.  I waited for over an hour that day.  I was sure she would not make it.  Just as I was about to give up hope I saw her running over the top of the hill again.  She said she only had a few minutes.  I told her I loved her more than life itself and wanted to make sure after she graduated we would spend the rest of our lives together.  So with my nerves shot and her beauty emboldening me, I asked her to marry me.  I promised her that day my unending love and she promised me her undying affection.  Then she had to go.  In a flash, the best moment of my life was over.  She left smiling from ear to ear.  I watched her go as far as I could see her.  I did not want that moment to end but I had no choice in the matter.

A few days later as I wandered down Main Street her parents pulled up beside me.  They both got out of the car.  As they walked up to me I knew it was not going to be good.  They glared at me as they pulled the ring I had given her out of their pocket.  They told me there was no way I was going to see her again.  They said they would never approve of us getting married.  I did not know what to do.  I stood there heartbroken but still in love.  They were yelling at me but I could only see their lips moving; their voices seemed muted.

A couple months passed by and I had managed to see her off and on over that time.  We both kept our promise of love.  She was more beautiful than ever.  I told her I could not live without her and she said she could not live without me.  As the days progressed our forbidden love grew stronger.  Her parents grew angrier.

Another couple months went by but her parents had kept her from me.  I had not seen the love of my life for an entire two months.  My friends and I decided to go to the county fair dance.  I was hoping she would be there.  "Every Rose Has Its Thorn" was playing over the speakers.  I looked around the room and there she was.  I asked her to dance, her parents were not there so she agreed.  I held her close as we swayed to the music.  The song ended but I did not want to let her go so we stood on the dance floor holding each other long after the song was over.  Everyone else was dancing to whatever song came on but we just stood there holding each other, gazing deeply into each other's eyes.  Neither of us wanted this to end but it had to.  We went our separate ways.

More time passed and although we grew distant we still held the same strong love for each other.  I found out she was being shipped off to another state.  My heart was shattered.  I did not want to live my life without her.  I got to see her briefly before she was sent away.  The years began to pass by.  She got married, I got engaged.  She got divorced, I was married.  I still loved her and she still loved me but we did not get to fulfill our promise to each other.  Even today my love is still strong for her even though I am sure she does not share that feeling and I should not have that feeling.  I see her every now and then.  Occasionally we get together when she comes to town but even that has gotten far and few between.  My heart has been broken for over a decade now.  It has never fully healed but I have lived my life and she has lived hers.  Something that should have been never came to be.













Taking a Knee

The day I was drafted was the best day of my life.  The day my best friend since kindergarten was drafted was the most heartbreaking day of our lives.  I was drafted into the pro football league and my friend was drafted into the war.  Ever since they had to start the draft back up we knew either of us could go at any time but we were sure neither of us would end up in the war that that hot-headed dictator ushered in.  I went through the summer training camp and made the cut, he went to boot camp and was sent to battle. 

The first pre-season game was upon us and many teams across the league were mad at the president for getting us into this war.  Personally, I never blamed the President; I blamed the baby fat wacko on the other side of the world.  So many teams and players decided they were going to protest the war and our President during the pre-game by taking a knee during the national anthem.  Although I did not blame the president, I was outraged that my friend had to go to war so our team voted as a unit to show solidarity and unity.  I, along with my teammates and coaches, took a knee during the national anthem.  Once that was over the game was on. 

I was listed as the second-string linebacker, which meant I would not see any action until the second quarter.  I watched both teams battle it out in a scoreless first quarter. The whistles blew signaling the end of the first quarter; it was finally my time to shine.  As the second quarter started with our team on defense I trotted onto the field.  My first play as a pro did not go as expected.  The offense was in shotgun but I misread a run on the play.  I jumped too early to stop the run and left the speedy slot receiver wide open across the middle of the field.  He juked the safety and took off sixty yards to pay dirt.  That was definitely not how I wanted to start my career. 

On the other side of the world…

I was so excited for my best friend for making it as a pro football player.  I knew that had been his dream since he started playing football in first grade.  I was there with him at the draft.  We did our little celebration dance when his name was called in the second round.  He was with me when my name was selected for the army's draft.  He felt horrible that he was getting to play the game he loved while I had to go put my neck on the line for our country but I told him to make the most of his opportunity and most importantly to have fun doing it.  I did not regret it one bit.  I would proudly serve the greatest country in the world.  I assured him I would be fine and when I got back home, we would celebrate his first season. 

Today I was going to get my first taste of the action.  Ironically, this was the same day my buddy was getting to see his first action on the field too.  As my unit approached the DMZ line rockets and machine gun fire were exploding all around us.  The noise was horrendous but the bodies being torn to bits all around me were images I would never forget.  I witnessed several members of my unit being blown apart as missiles cascaded down on us.  Some of the missiles were close enough to me that I could feel the resulting heat from the explosions. 

As we made it across the DMZ and officially entered into enemy territory, my unit had already been cut in half.  Shrapnel was jutting out of my arm but the adrenaline kept me moving forward.  My unit became separated into smaller units as we crossed into enemy territory.  There were only ten of us in my group.  We pressed on as we tried to contact the rest of our unit.  We were getting bogged down by much larger groups of enemy soldiers.  Somehow, the enemy had surrounded us.  As we quickly dug trenches for cover, the enemy continued to close in on my group.  We were scared but we kept digging and fighting.  The deafening sound of jets, missiles, and machine gun fire engulfed us as we held our position hoping for some reinforcements but the radios were silent. 

Back in the U.S…

It was the fourth quarter and we were locked in a tied game with just two minutes left.  I was back on the field with my defense.  This was our moment to shine.  The quarterback took the snap and lofted one down field but it fell incomplete.  The next play the quarterback faked the handoff, I almost took the bait again but instead jumped back into position just as the quarterback launched the ball across the middle of the field.  I reached up and yanked the ball out of the air.  Forty yards later I was in the end zone doing a little dance because I had just scored the game-winning touchdown. 

The celebration after the game was something to cherish.  It was just a preseason game but the excitement at the end carried over until late into the night.  After the celebration, I went home to crash out.  My first game had drained me of every ounce of energy I had.  As I laid down I noticed my phone was flashing to notify me I had a missed call.  I looked to see who it was.  It was my mom calling so I decided to check the message and if it was important I would call her right back. 

I knew this was not just a pleasant congratulations call when I heard the sadness in her voice right from the beginning of the message.  She told me hundreds of enemy soldiers had surrounded my friend's squad and, although they fought valiantly, every one of them had been killed in action.  I was heartbroken, distraught to the point of inconsolability.  While I had been celebrating a victory on the field playing some game, my best friend was being surrounded by the enemy, heavily outnumbered, fighting for his life, fighting for our rights, fighting for our freedom.  A battle which he lost.  My world stopped in its tracks.  While I was protesting this war and this president and this country, my friend gave his life to protect us at home so we would never have to know the horrors of war at home.  I was embarrassed, actually just downright appalled by mine and the rest of the countries actions.  We have never had to fear war on the home front because of these brave men and women but we were showing utter disrespect towards them in our so-called protest.  From that moment on, I knew I would never take a knee again, I knew I would never let my teammates take a knee again.  I would proudly show my pride in our brave men and women who fight to protect us every single day, many of whom give their lives for our freedoms we hold so sacred.  My friend will be greatly missed but when the war is over, he will be known as a hero who gave his life on the frontlines to protect our way of life at home.


The Visitors

The visitors came in fast. They ransacked, they ravaged, they destroyed. Things were not looking good for us. We ran, zig-zagged through alleys, through destroyed structures, around craters. We could not outrun them. They zipped, they jolted, they jumped. Some buildings were dust, some were partially standing. Crater's enveloped entire city blocks. Once familiar landmarks no longer existed.

The first one caught up with us. We struggled, we fought, but his tentacle-like arms held us in a death grip. We struggled to breathe. Three more of his friends swung around the corner. Their snake-like tongues licked, what would be their lips if they were like us. Their eyes narrowed in on us through eyelids that were shaped like cross-hairs. Each of them had four arms snaking off of their body, each arm had its own hand. Each hand had three talon shaped claws.

Their bodies were shiny, an almost silver color with a similar sheen. His grip loosened allowing us to catch our breath. He turned his head a full one-eighty to look at his comrades. A screech belted out of his mouth. The others seemed to understand this as a command. Two of them headed back into the center of the city. The other one stayed behind with the one who held us.

The visitors head turned back around. He flashed a mouthful of at least a hundred razor sharp teeth at us. We let out a panicked scream. They made some deep-throated noises. Seconds later an aircraft appeared above us. A tunnel shot out of the bottom of it. It encased all four of us, like a vacuum it sucked us up into the aircraft.

As we came into the ship there were several others similar to our captors. One of them stood out. He was more of a golden color with bright, skinny red stripes covering the top of his head. They flung us onto steel beds then strapped us in with metal straps. We were unable to move again.

With a jolt, the craft shot into the sky. The golden colored creature came to the beds, staring us up and down. He stuck his razor-sharp claw next to my head. I let out a yell. My friend in the bed next to me let out what was more of howl. He sounded like he was in pain. I forced myself to look in his direction. There was blood all over one of our kidnappers. He cleaned his claw with his slithering tongue.

The unique one of the bunch slid his claw around the shape of my body. He made some strange grunting noises to his partners. They all surrounded me. One at a time their slimy, slippery tongues licked me. Their tongues were razor sharp too. Each time I felt some of my flesh disappearing. It was an agonizing pain that if I were going to live I would never forget or be able to describe. The last one licked the top of my head. I could hear his tongue scraping along my skull. My body set into shock. I could feel myself drifting off.


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