The Offer

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

Cover image:pixabay.com.

The Offer

It was a very generous offer, at least it had seemed so to my whisky befuddled mind. I can’t honestly put my hand on my heart and say that I’d have turned it down stone cold sober either. There was no other way of putting it – I was desperate!

They would be turfing me out of my home the following morning. I owed money that I did not have. Not only that but I had no way of raising the necessary funds either. I should have been home packing up my most precious belongings before I lost them too; but I wasn’t. I was drowning my sorrows at a local bar, and feeling more and more hopeless by the second.

The stranger sat down beside me and I didn’t even notice. Didn’t even look up when he pushed another double whisky in front of me.

Cheer up, it can’t be that bad,” he said and I had snorted in response.

Listen, mate, it couldn’t possibly be any worse.”

Why don’t you tell me about it? You know what they say about a problem... share it and halve it. You never know, I might even be able to offer some assistance.”

He looked nothing like anyone I knew, and yet there was nothing remarkable about him. He could have been anyone but I was drunk enough to pour out all of my woes.

His answer took me totally by surprise. “Is that all?”

What do you mean? I’m going to lose my house, become homeless...”

All you need is the money to pay off your debt. I’ve got plenty of money. Give me the details and I’ll take care of it.” He passed me a notepad and pen that he had pulled from his pocket.

Too intoxicated to be embarrassed, I wrote down the amount I owed and who I owed it to. My writing blurred and sloped one way then the other. Would he even be able to read it?

The stranger took the pad from me and scanned the words I’d written. “Give it no more thought, pal. I’ll sort it all out in the morning.”

Thanks,” I said. “I owe you big time.”

Now that you mention it, there is something you could do in return.” He looked down at the surface of the bar as he spoke. “My parents are cramping my style, if you get what I mean.” He winked, I was sure he did. “If you’ve got a spare room, could you let them move in with you?”

I remember frowning, but it was a no brainer. I had spare rooms and that seemed a small price to pay to keep a roof over my head, one with no debt attached to it too. I couldn’t turn the offer down and when he handed me back the notebook for me to sign an agreement, I didn’t even read it.

I should perhaps have remembered another saying: if it sounds to good to be true, it probably is.

I must have passed out for the next thing I remembered I was on the top of my bed; still fully clothed and with a head full of jack-hammers, but it was my room. Mine! I remembered that much but nothing more. Not until I went downstairs.

My furniture had been pushed aside, replaced by ugly large pieces. They looked like things from the giant’s house in the old ‘Jack and the Beanstalk’ fairy tale. What had I signed? I tried to remember as I made my way towards the kitchen. Once at the door, I froze.

My fridge stood open and empty. My roomy kitchen was cramped, crammed full with more furniture and two... people. I guess they were people, but they were huge, ugly, and very, very strong. Not people... ogres!

I was hallucinating. I had to be. I turned and fled back up the stairs and shut myself in my bedroom, sinking to the ground, my head in my hands. I needed to think, to remember. Those... those monsters... could not be his parents, surely?

And then I saw the note pinned to the inside of my door. ‘Hope you get on okay. Keep them well-fed and they’ll be fine.’

Well-fed! How on earth was I going to do that?

While I was still trying to figure that out, the house began to shake. There was a thud, followed by another and another. The ogres were heading my way. A meaty fist made firewood of my bedroom door as it snaked its way inside and grabbed me by the neck.

Before I had time to object, I was pulled through the splintered wood and held between them. They looked hungry. They began to drool. And me... I began to scream.

 

 


Submitted: December 30, 2020

© Copyright 2021 hullabaloo22. All rights reserved.

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Comments

Mike S.

A fine guest-of-honor at an all-they-can-eat tale, Hull

Wed, December 30th, 2020 7:24pm

Author
Reply

Thanks, Mike!

Mon, January 11th, 2021 10:11am

Vance Currie

Well, Hully, I guess keeping 'em well fed wasn't going to be a problem. At least the protagonist wouldn't have to worry where their next meal would come from.

Wed, December 30th, 2020 9:44pm

Author
Reply

Thanks, Joe.

Mon, January 11th, 2021 10:08am

AdamCarlton

A classic fairy tale, right?

Thu, December 31st, 2020 8:19am

Author
Reply

Haha. You said it, Adam. The wishes are always used up, I reckon.

Mon, January 11th, 2021 10:07am

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