Flash Fiction Day #1

Flash Fiction Submission – joining Damon L. Wakes challenge, thanks for posting about it, Sonya (her blog is Only 100 words).

Written at 2pm local time. Inspired by Peaky Blinders (2013).

Bulletin – Bullet In

Home for a bullet. When he put the gun to my head, I thought that at last, the bullet would come home.

There’s always been a home for it …there. Just a matter of time. I’d always thought it was only a matter of time before it came home.

I couldn’t stop smiling. Either way, I wouldn’t stop smiling.

I’d die with a smile on my face.

I’d live with this smile on my face.

In my dreams, I kiss her back and she tastes of gun powder and steel. Cold and heartless, embracing the empty darkness -she whispers back with aspirations and the ultimate cock-tease

If I stare into his eyes, I can see her, swimming in his corneas. But he doesn’t have her grit. His hands shake. He sweats. His face twitches with tension and soft pain. A feather would keel him over.

And so my smile, slowly drifts into a smirk.

It’s not him. It’s another wanna-be.

The knife flashes in my palm, the flicker from the moonlight causes those eyes to blink. Then the slack-jawed shock kicks in like adrenaline because his next inhale tastes of blood and smells of copper.

I stare into those eyes of confusion and watch her wave away and disappear with the rest of my delusions. The man drops to the ground like a sack of flour- I crouch down as his hand clamps to his throat. Blood bubbles past his lips, his body spasms -an aftereffect echoing the clatter of the gun lying on the ground, forgotten.

I lean close. I need to hear the moment.

Her final wish was a moment of silence. And with a final gurgle, he obliged.

I sucked in a breath around my forgotten cigarette. Ash dotted his lips, I stand and toss a coin to his chest.

“If only you could tell me…”

I turn away from the body and exit the alley to rejoin society. A stray dog re-assimilated into civilization, a dog both uncivil and savage. Skulking in the dark edges of the light.

I flick away the spark-branded cig and exhale the last draw. Smoke filters into nothing. Halogen lights blind out the sky and pollute the stars. I tuck the blade back into my sleeve, smearing away the last few drops of arterial spray.

I glance back with a whisper. Think you could tell me what she fucks like?

 

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opalflame

I am artist, analyst, author, poet, composer, musician to name a few aspects of myself. A bit of a jack of trades, I dabble into many fields that encourage the blossom of imagination and allow me to channel my creativity. I dream vividly and view the world through the lens of optimism and opportunity while acknowledging the ink and shadows.

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