The Kindness of Strangers

© Piya Singh

The day the strangers rode up to my door, I welcomed them. When they asked for water, I offered them all they could drink from the small stream that ran in front of my humble home. When they asked for food, I fed them from my stores. When they asked for wine, I broke out my last bottle. When they drew their swords and demanded money, I relinquished my last coin.

When they began coughing blood from the poison I’d slipped in the wine, I smiled. When they begged for mercy, I let them know I was fresh out.

Word Count: 99

[This is my entry into this weeks Friday Fictioneers challenge hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. Use the photo prompt to create a short story in 100 words or less.]

~V

Brilliance

PHOTO PROMPT © Sean Fallon

“See!” said Mavis. “My new invention.”

Randall stared at the pickle jar filled with AA batteries. Wires protruded from the lid and connected to a switch and light bulb. Biting his lip to keep from laughing, he returned his gaze to Mavis.

“So you think this will work, huh?” he asked.

“I know it will,” she replied as she threw the switch and completed the circuit. The light bulb glowed brilliantly.

“Whaaa…” squawked Randall.

Mavis smiled. Randall couldn’t see the wire she’d strung through the middle of the jar, connecting to a 9 volt battery. He’d never call her a dumb blonde again.

Word Count: 102

[This is my entry into this weeks Friday Fictioneers challenge hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. Use the photo prompt to create a short story in 100 words or less.]

~V

The Birthday Present

Regina carefully applied the crimson lipstick to her pouty lips. Thomas preferred her fully made up and she knew she needed to impress tonight. It was her twentieth birthday and if she was going to ply her sugar daddy for a new car, she’d need to hit him with all of her considerable assets.

“It’s only fair,” she thought jealously as her eyelashes received thickening from her mascara brush. “He surprised Angela with that disgusting Mercedes last June and that was only because they’d had a fight”.

Granted, the fight had been over the amount of time Thomas had been “spending at the office”, his typical cover excuse for his trysts with Regina, but as far as Regina was concerned, she was as deserving of a new automobile as his aging wife.

A knock on the door startled Regina from her thoughts of cruising down Hollywood Boulevard in her new sports car. She glanced at the clock. 6:43. He was early. Really early. A twinge in her stomach told her something was wrong.

It wasn’t the grinning face of her lover that greeted her when she opened the door, but rather the glinting barrel of a .38 snub nose revolver. Angela glared menacingly at her with mascara streaked eyes.

“Were you expecting him?” Angela spat, slowly forcing Regina back into the apartment Thomas provided.

Regina stepped backwards, hands in the air.

“Well don’t. Your loverboy won’t be paying you any more visits. In fact…” she considered. “…he won’t be paying for anything at all.”

“What have you done, Angela?” asked Regina, her voice cracking in fear.

“Well,” began her rival. “Let’s just say I started with six bullets in the cylinder of this gun and I managed to save three for you.”

“Oh God no!” cried Regina, feeling the knot tighten in her stomach.

“He confessed he was coming to see you tonight,” explained Angela slowly, recounting her conversation with her unfaithful spouse. “He told me it was your birthday.”

“Angela, please,” begged Regina, tears welling in her eyes. “Don’t do this.”

“Oh, don’t do this? Really? And what if I had asked the same of you? What if I had asked you to stop sleeping with my husband? To stop bleeding our bank account? What would you have said?”

“I… I didn’t mean…” Regina faltered.

“You know what?” Angela asked, tipping her head to the side. “Maybe I’ll give you a birthday present of my own.”

She waved the gun towards the bedroom.

“I’ll give you five minutes to pack a bag and clear out of here. If you’re gone by…” Angela glanced at the clock on the wall. “…6:50, I’ll keep your three “presents” inside the gun. What do you say?”

Regina realized this was her opportunity to save herself.

“Ok, ok, I’ll go!” she cried.

She had a bag ready in three minutes. Scooping it up in one hand and her purse in the other, she fled from the apartment still shaking in terror.

Angela noticed a half-filled pack of cigarettes on the coffee table. Pulling one from the pack, she placed it her mouth. She pointed the tip of the gun barrel to the end of the cigarette and pulled the trigger. A flame shot up from the gun. As the smooth tobacco smoke curled around her face she smiled.

“Happy birthday, you tramp.”

~V

A Father’s Love is Fierce

© Ady

“Have a seat on the red park bench and wait for further instructions,” the voice on the phone told Joshua.

Dr. Joshua Parker, famed neurosurgeon took a seat, setting down the heavy brown satchel. His hand trembled slightly, a condition to which he was not accustomed.

A scruffy man in his late 40’s wearing a brown overcoat approached and sat beside Joshua, never once meeting his gaze.

“Is it all there?” the man asked quietly.

“Yes, yes, I did as you asked. A quarter of a million in smaller bills. Now please…” Joshua pleaded. “…Where is my son?”

“All in good time, doctor,” said the man. He reached down for the handle of the bag. As he did so, Joshua uncapped the needle on the syringe he had concealed in his right hand. More than any other time in his life, he prayed for steadiness.

In one swift stroke, he jammed the needle deep into the man’s leg and pushed the plunger. The man jerked back in surprise and pain.

“What the hell did you just do?” he cried, eyes wide.

Joshua bared his teeth as he responded. “That was fifty milligrams of Fierce snake venom,” he began. “Ever heard of it?”

“Wha…” began the man, holding his leg. He’d forgotten all about the ransom money.

“It contains both neuro and hemotoxins and is the most toxic venom in the world. Based on the dosage I just administered directly into your quadricep, I estimate you have about an hour before paralysis sets in and you begin to bleed from your eyes. You won’t be able to move, but the pain will be intense. You’ll be dead within two hours… unless of course…”

“Unless what?” cried the man frantically.

“Unless I tell you where I hid the anti-venom,” Joshua replied. “Now, where’s my son?”

The man stared at Joshua blankly.

“Come now, every second counts,” replied the surgeon.

“How do I know you’ll keep your end of the bargain if I tell you where to find him?” asked the man.

“You don’t, but do you have a choice?” asked Joshua

“A dark blue Ford SUV…” began the man. “Parked around the corner about a hundred yards from here.”

Joshua stood.

“Wait,” cried the man. “The anti-venom?”

“Stay seated on the bench and wait for further instructions,” he said over his shoulder.

Ten minutes later Joshua drove from the park with his son sitting next to him. The man on the red bench waited for nearly two hours for a call that never came.

[This is my entry this week into the Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers challenge. A photo prompt is given and writers are encouraged to create a short story of 100 – 150 words, + or – 25 words. I went well over the word limit this week, so again, my apologies, but I hope the story was worth it.

My description of the symptoms and timing of the onset of the venom may be off a bit, but Fierce snake venom does contain both neurotoxins as well as hemotoxins and death would be pretty awful from this snake bite. I also didn’t reveal the setting of this story, but it most likely took place in Melbourne, Australia as the Fierce snake is only found on that continent and the anti-venom is manufactured there.]

~V

 

Til Death Do Us Part

Adrian leaned on the balcony of his 10th story penthouse sipping his zinfandel. The sun was setting; it’s final rays shimmered on the rippling Pacific waters. An ocean breeze caressed his serene face.

When the investigator he’d hired to follow Catherine displayed the photos before him, Adrian hadn’t wanted to believe. He’d hired the man to prove that his suspicions were unfounded, restoring his trust. Regrettably, the evidence revealed the truth of his wife’s infidelity.

When confronted, Catherine transformed from the loving bride he’d married to a venomous serpent of hatred. She swore if he tried to divorce her, she’d expose his business dealings with the cartel. She would not surrender the luxury of her privileged life.

He promised no divorce. His request was simple. Obey her marriage vows. She spat in his face and vowed the only man who would touch her was Albert.

The fading sunlight shone on Adrian’s smiling face. In the end, she’d kept her vows, though she required a push in the right direction. Gazing down to the pavement below, he regarded his wife’s mangled body enveloped in a growing red halo.

“Til death do us part,” he smiled, raising the glass to his lips.

Word Count: 200

[This is my entry into the Flash Fiction Challenge for Flash Fiction for the Purposeful Practitioner by Roger Shipp. Write a story based on a photo prompt and introductory sentence in 200 words or less. I completely forgot to start the story with the prompt sentence this week. My apologies.]

~V

Q and A

I’m sitting here quietly in my cell waiting for the guards to arrive. Today’s my big day. The state of Florida is throwing me a special party and I’m the guest of honor. Soon I’ll be strapped into a big chair and then I’ll get the shock of my life. Or death.

How did I come to death row, you ask? It’s simple really. I asked a question. That’s right, I asked a simple question and the next thing you know, the judge is banging his gavel and the courtroom is buzzing and whoosh… off I go to prison.

Before incarceration I was a simple, quiet guy. I loved to read, loved to cook and most of all, I loved my cat. He had the appearance of a miniature black panther, his sleek ebony coat gleamed in the beams of sunshine in which he loved to nap. Shadow. His name was Shadow.

The day before Christmas I left early to finish some last minute shopping for my grandparents, the only family I had. It was a cold December in the Sunshine State. Coldest winter in decades the weatherman said. Bits of snow still rested on the palmetto leaves outside my house from the light dusting we’d gotten the night before. Snow in Florida. What a novelty.

When I turned back onto my street, my gaze caught the lights from the fire trucks. Several vehicles were parked askew about 500 yards down.

“Oh man,” I thought. “Somebody’s not having a good day.” I had no idea at the time that somebody was about to be me.

When they finally allowed me to enter the charred remains of my home, I bolted towards the front door. I was met by a stocky firefighter who shambled out the entrance. He stopped me and asked if I was the resident. I told him I was, my voice quivering with fear and shock. He looked me in the eye and asked, “Do you have a cat?”

“Yes!” I sputtered back, wide-eyed. I hoped for the best.

“Well ya don’t anymore!” he grinned as he pushed past me.

His words sank deep and for some reason, the image of his face burned itself into my mind.

Later, I learned that Shadow had died not from smoke inhalation, but rather the searing air had scorched his lungs. His death had been painful and he’d been alone. I found him lying at the end of my bed.

I learned the name of the fireman that had given me the news of my cat. I learned his address. And about a week later, I paid his house a visit.

When he returned home, he found me waiting for him on his small porch. I assume he was not expecting company. He seemed rather surprised to see me, or maybe it was the blood that dripped from the axe in my hand that caught his eye. When he stopped cold in his tracks I felt it was the right time to ask my question. It was the question that landed me here.

“Hello, Mr. Taylor. Do you have a family?”

The guards are here now. I have to go. I’ll be seeing you.

~V

 

Pride Goes Before the Fall

© Sonya – Only 100 Words

“Whoa, check out this plumage display!” boasted Albert loudly. “You won’t find a better spread of feathers anywhere.”

Albert fanned his paltry tail feathers unevenly behind him.

Vincent, the reigning peacock in the flock snorted loudly. “Oh please, Albert. Who are you kidding? Your tail is as spectacular as a cloudy day. Everyone here KNOWS whose spread is king.”

Albert had suffered Vincent’s boasting for years. He’d made Albert feel inadequate, delighting in humiliating him in front of the ladies. Enough was enough.

“So you say, Vincent. Why not let the flock decide who the real peacock is?”

“Fine,” sighed Vincent. “Embarrass yourself.” He spread his magnificent pearly tail feathers for all to see.”

“THAT is why I’m never alone at night,” he sneered at Albert.

BANG!

The hunters rifle sounded a loud report. The flock, including Albert scattered wildly. Vincent slumped lifelessly to the ground.

“Heck, I was gonna take that small one,” said the hunter to his partner. “But then that white one appeared!”

Albert smiled wickedly. “King no more.”

~V

Word Count: 175

[This is my entry this week into the Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers challenge. A photo prompt is given and writers are encouraged to create a short story of 100 – 150 words, + or – 25 words.]