The Crack

 

"Her Story Written in Disappearing Ink." CC2.0 photo by Michael Shaheen.

CC2.0 photo by Michael Shaheen.

The truth is in the crack. It is the clue. Follow it and you will see, none of this is what it seems. The well-worn pavement, the chipped brick walls, an entryway – an illusion. The grand persuasion because, as is says, ‘a beautiful girl lived here’, an emerald green doorframe beckons, why wouldn’t you peak your head in to see?

What did that beautiful girl leave behind?

But the truth is in the crack. A crack can mean many things: poorly constructed pavement, heavy traffic, a sinkhole underneath. Or, it could mean that something is below, something – and every heated exhale from its scaly snout hits the backside of the pavement, a crack forms and its beady lizard eye can see. It waits, simmering, for you to poke your head in and see what’s through the doorway. Because then, it’s dinnertime.

The truth is in the crack.

~~~

Written for the final Flash Friday. The prompt was to include the photo and a dragon.

The Mighty Warrior’s Demise

I’m burning. The city presses down with each explosion as concrete blocks stack one, on top of another, on top of me. I’ve trained my whole life for this moment. I am a Mighty Warrior; I even have a belt that says so. But none of that seems to matter this morning. We were all taken by surprise.

“Help!” A scream comes from underneath. It’s burning below, like it’s burning above. The screaming continues and I try to move –to be the hero. I grasp the nearest bit of fallen stone and pull it to the side. It all moves too fast and more stones fall into its place, crushing. The screaming stops.

I’m going to die here.

I trained to be a Mighty Warrior and during that training I often wondered, “how will I die?” I pictured grand battles, I pictured victory. The weight of the stone presses closer…


Written for Flash Friday:
Setting: Besieged City; Character: Mighty Warrior

Envy

A Flash!Friday Tale:
—–
Those kisses used to be mine.

As she bends, I catch a glimpse down her blouse. The sight of her breasts used to spark hot arousal but now they bring only anguish. Instead, I let my eyes fall on her soft, warm, loving lips as they caress the bare cheek of my heir.

I should not be envious, but I am. He gets her attention now, he gets her time. I get half-forgotten smiles.

She looks at me, Henry on her hip, her words callous. I barely hear them. Her mouth twists in disgust at my silence, or maybe at the mere sight of me.

“Were you listening?” She demands.

I nod. “Of course.”

Then she leaves with him. The door slams in her wake and I am left alone, again.

Best Practices

The detective cleared his throat. “I am the Great –”

“We know who you are.” The Master of the House interrupted.

“That’s why we invited you to sit on our couch.” The Lady supplied.

The detective’s hands tightened around his tools of deduction. “You must let me finish my introduction.”

The Lady’s eyes slipped into slits of displeasure. “We must do no such thing.”

“We called you here to solve a murder, not stroke your ego.” The Master stood.

“We will proceed immediately to the scene of the crime.”

“But you do not understand, my introduction incites fear in the spirits.”

The Lady looked to her husband. “You said he was sane.”

The Master flushed. “All detectives are eccentric.”

The detective continued murmuring his introduction as he followed the Master towards the kitchen, where remnants of murder remained untouched.

“What did you say, lad?” The Master asked.

“I am beginning my investigation. Continue onwards.”

The Master detested anyone ordering him around his own house. But, with his wife waiting in the sitting room, he did not feel the need to exert his superiority. Instead, he watched the detective crouch to his knees and investigate the carcass.

It all seemed above-board until the detective removed a straw from his pocket and began slurping the blood.

“Now, what is this?” The Master demanded.

“You want me to solve your murder?”

“Of course. But surely –“

“I am the Great –”

“I’ll just return to the sitting room,” the Master interrupted again.

He suddenly felt defeated in his very own kitchen.


A Flash!Friday Tale: Conflict: man vs man; Character (choose one): arrogant detective

All Aboard

The train is coming; its wheels against the track as it barrels closer. The metal is cool against my neck, ready to end it all.

“Alexandra!” The wooden door opens and my mother slips in. I don’t turn around but soon her hands are on my shoulders, rubbing her warmth through the lace. Our eyes catch in the mirror. “Enough lingering. It is time.”

The church bells ring in confirmation. They blur in my mind with the train’s horn, fogging my thoughts with imaginary steam. My head is on the tracks, my life is ending.

“You look beautiful.”

The words bring little relief.
_____________________________________________

Flash!Friday:

Character: Unhappy Socialite
Theme: Value of Marriage

The Storyteller

BEEP BEEP – Entering optimal visual coordinates for planetary mass 4926, alias: Earth.

Human 6.21046 picks up his tablet and taps a finger on the page, “From afar, the planet is blue but as we travel closer the mass turns into a barrage of colors: green and white, the yellow sun casts half the planet into shadow. I must move closer to fully investigate.”

BEEP BEEP – Entering the atmosphere of planetary mass 4926, alias: Earth.

He grips the tablet as the ship catapults forward. “Closer now, landmasses form. There is an infestation of crop fields and, in other areas, patches of grey. Hovering over them as I continue my descent, the blue of the planet almost disappears.”

BEEP BEEP – Entering ground level of planetary mass 4926, alias: Earth.

He stands when the ship lands, one hand pressed against the metal door and the other clutching his tablet. He writes, “My entrance has caused a disturbance. Humanoids are backing away from me in what appears to be fear. I tell them that I am a human as well. I assure them that I’ve traveled across the galaxy, from across time. One fearful humanoid vomits up his food ration.”

Human 6.21046 takes a step forward.

“I’ve come to write your stories.”


Written for today’s FlashFriday

Twofold prompt: Character must be a writer and include this photo –

Buster Crabbe as Flash Gordon, promotional still from 1936.  Public domain photo, sourced at flashfriday.wordpress.com

Buster Crabbe as Flash Gordon, promotional still from 1936.
Public domain photo, sourced at flashfriday.wordpress.com