January Flash, The Winner: Don't Tell, by Ginny

Don't Tell
As the fog began to gather in the moonlight, a thin figure of a woman lingered by the window. She stared out at the headlights on the drive with a blank expression on her face.
“Mrs. Collins?”
The woman turned from the window “Yes, Lydia?”
“I think Mr. Collins is on the drive. Would you like Hector to start a fire in the study?”
“That would be wonderful. Thank you.” She nodded her approval as she said it. “Why don’t you go ahead set out the brandy as well? He’s been working so hard lately.”
“Si Senora.” And the housekeeper disappeared behind the large oak door.
Mrs. Collins went to the mirror and stared at her reflection. She touched the lines on her face, wondering where the years had gone. It wasn’t just the lines. Her body ached more than it used to and the headaches grew stronger every day.
The sound of her husband’s voice woke her from her daze and she brushed her fingers through her hair and adjusted her satin housecoat around her shoulders. She smiled before she went downstairs to greet her husband.
“Hello Senator.”
“Grace, my love.” Mr. Collins said as he began to take of his blazer. “I’m sorry I’m so late again. We’re working like maniacs on this new immigration bill and it is taking longer than we thought it would. Please forgive me.” He loosened his tie and kissed her on the cheek.
“Don’t apologize, Darling. I’m so proud of your work.” She turned to pour him a glass of brandy as he took a seat in front of the fire. “How is Amanda these days?”
She handed him the glass and when he reached to take it, he touched her hand. He let it linger there and she smiled at the look in his eyes. Warm. Inviting. With a quick motion, he took the drink and pulled her to his lap. “You are so beautiful.” He whispered into her ear.
“Don’t be cruel, Edward. I’ve seen myself in the mirror.”
He placed the glass on the table, wrapped both arms around her waist and leaned his head against her chest. “I’m not trying to be cruel, Grace.” He put the glass on the side table and wrapped both arms around her waist. “I would never hurt you.”
She stroked his hair and closed her eyes. “I know, Dear. I’m sorry I said it. Today has been a rough day. Dr. Myer came by with the test results.”
“And?”
“It’s spreading. Not that I needed him to tell me that.”
He pulled her closer to him. “And you are sure you don’t want to continue the treatments?” He asked.
“I can’t do the chemo again. I just can’t.” She choked with emotion on the last word.
They held each other in silence, lost in their own thoughts of what the future held for them. While they sat together, forces were at work that would test the depth of their commitment. ************************************************************************ “Miss Perkins?”
“Yes?”
“My name is Raymond Walters and I’d like to ask you a few questions about Senator Collins.”
“Are you a reporter?” She asked.
“Yes I am. I’m with the National Livewire and we are very interested in the bill he’s working on.”
“I’m sorry Mr. Walters but I’m not at liberty to discuss this bill. We are still working on it. You’ll just have to wait for the press release.”
“What about rumors that he is considering running in the next presidential election?”
“I don’t know what you are referring to.”
“Is it true that you haven’t dated anyone since you’ve been working for the Senator?”
“My personal life is non of your business and I find this entire line of questioning offensive. Good day, Mr. Walters.” And she hung up the phone.
************************************************************************
Before leaving for work, Mr. Collins stopped by his wife’s bedroom. He found her sitting up in bed, eating the breakfast while Lucinda prepared her bath.
“How are you feeling this morning, Grace?” He kissed her on the forehead.
“Not too bad. My sister is coming over for lunch today. Would you like to join us?” She asked with a wink.
He feigned a shiver and let the sarcasm seep from his voice. “Oh no! Is that today? I’m sorry but I’m going to have to miss that.”
She laughed. “Well then, I’ll just have to tell her that you don’t love her any more. She’ll be absolutely heart broken.”
“It’s good to see you smile.” He said as he glanced down at the nightstand covered in pill bottles. “Do you have to take all of these?”
“Only if you want me to smile, Dear.” She winked at him.
His face grew serious. “Are you in pain, Grace?”
She nodded and smiled. “Some days are better than others and today is a better day.”
His stomach tightened as he wondered how much time they had left together. “Have a nice lunch with your sister. I’ll be home early tonight.”
“Don’t hurry. I know what your life is like. I’ll be here waiting with open arms and a glass of brandy. Don’t forget to pick up your tux. We’ve got that fundraiser this Friday.”
“I promise I won’t forget.”
************************************************************************
“Grace, darling, you look terrible!”
“You’re looking lovely as well, Barbara.” Grace answered as they seated themselves in the solar. “I’m glad you waited until after we’d finished eating to tell me.”
“Oh please. You know I love you but this whole dying thing is not good for your skin.” Barbara tried to smile.
“You’ve never been really great at humor, you know.” Grace said. She saw the tears in her sister’s eyes. “What’s the matter?”
Barbara began to sob. “Everything! What am I going to do without you? You’re the only one in the entire world who likes me.” She bowed her head.
Grace handed her a handkerchief. “That’s not true.”
“Yes it is. Herbert doesn’t even like me. I don’t know if he ever did.”
“Why would you say something like that? He adores you!”
“Because he’s having an affair. I hired a private detective and I’ve got photos to prove it. He loves my money, but not me.” Barbara wiped her eyes and lifter her head.
“I’m so sorry. What are you going to do?”
“I’m seriously considering poisoning the bastard. Have you got anything in your pill stash that would help me?”
“Only if you don’t want him to feel any pain on the way out.” Grace answered.
************************************************************************ The restaurant was filled with noise of daily chatter and at a table in the back sat Senator Collins with his assistant. They did not speak often and when words were used it was in reference to the new bill. The waiter had just served the coffee when a man approached their table.
“Senator Collins?” the man put out his hand. “I’m Raymond Walters.”
The senator rose slightly from his seat, took the younger man’s hand and said “Nice to meet. Mr. Walters. This is my assistant, Miss…”
“Miss Perkins. I know. We spoke over the phone yesterday.”
Senator Collins raised an eyebrow. “Did you now?”
“Oh yes, we’re old friends.” He winked at Miss Perkins.
She frowned at Mr. Walters as she spoke to the senator. “Mr. Walters is a reporter, Senator.”
Mr. Walters ignored her. “I was hoping I might ask you a few questions.”
“Mr. Walters, I’d appreciate it if you’d call my office and make an appointment. I’d be happy to meet with you at a better time.”
“Oh, I’m sorry senator. I didn’t realize that this was a private lunch. How often do you two have these lunches?”
“That is not an appropriate question, young man. Please leave or I will call someone to help you out.”
“Young man? Well now, I don’t think I’m much older than Miss Perkins here. And how old are you again?”
The senator nodded at a rather large man waiting in the doorway. Mr. Walters saw him approaching and smiled. “No need for that, senator. I’m leaving. How about that drink later tonight, Miss Perkins, or will you be working late?” He did not wait for an answer and walked away.
“What was that about, Amanda?”
“I’m sorry I forgot to tell you Edward. He called me at home last night. He wanted to know about the new bill and your plans for the presidency.” She tried not to look worried and looked around the room before she spoke again. “He also asked if I had dated anyone since I started working for you.”
Under the table, he put his hand on her. “It’s okay. I guess we’ll have to be more careful then, won’t we?”
************************************************************************
Grace sat in the study staring into the fireplace. “Mrs. Collins?” Lucinda stood in the doorway. “A Raymond Walters is here to see you. He is a reporter working on a story about senators’ wives. Do you feel well enough to talk to him?”
“I’m all right for now. Please show him in Lydia.”
Mr. Walters entered the room and reached out his hand. “Please don’t get up, Mrs. Collins. I’m Raymond Walters. Your sister hired me to check up on her husband last week.”
“Please, have a seat. What may I do for you?”
“I won’t take much of your time, I know you’re not well these days.” Grace nodded as he continued. “Well, the thing is, I saw your husband at a restaurant dining with his assistant, Miss Perkins.”
“Yes?” Grace began to grip the arm of the chair a bit tighter.
“I’ve seen his name in the news a bunch lately because of his bill. It has something to do with illegal aliens, right?”
“That is correct.”
“I thought it might be a good idea to go say hello. It’s always a good idea to make friends with politicians. Anyway, I was about to go over then when I saw something strange. When they thought no one was watching, he winked at her.”
“Mr. Walters, if you came in here to tell me that my husband winked at his assistant, you’ve wasted your time. He is warm, loving man and…”
“I’m sorry to interrupt, Mrs. Collins but there’s more. Much more. You see, I followed them after work one evening and, well…” He pulled some photos from his pocket. “They are extremely careful. They reserved two separate rooms but about thirty minutes after they checked in, he went to her room.” He placed the pictures in her hands. “I tried to talk to them, pretending to be a reporter to see if I could get them to slip up somehow but they brushed me off.”
She stared at them with a blank expression. When she did speak, her voice was flat and cold “Who else knows about this, Mr. Walters?”
“Just me, Mrs. Collins. And no one else has to know if you wouldn’t mind writing me a check for a few thousand dollars.”
Sirens raged in her head as she fought the anger. Yet when she spoke, she continued in an even tone. “This is a very disturbing situation, Mr. Walters. I’m not feeling well so you’ll have to excuse me if I don’t take care of your business today. Why don’t you come to the fundraiser gala tomorrow night? I’ll take care of things then, okay?” She closed her eyes and leaned back into her chair.
“I’ll be there, Mrs. Collins and why don’t you just make that check for a cool half a million?”
She nodded slowly. “Just bring the negatives and I’ll bring the check.”
************************************************************************ When the senator arrived at home, he found a note with his glass of brandy that read “Edward, it’s been a long day. Forgive me for not joining you this evening. Love, Grace.”
She stood by her bed and stared down at her collection of pill bottles. With a trembling hand, she picked one and held it to her breast.
************************************************************************
When the announcer had finished speaking, the donors stood at their tables and applauded. The band started playing and the audience dispersed to dance and gather drinks at the bar.
Mrs. Collins waited until the crowd had thinned a bit and ordered a brandy. She stood for a long time, watching everyone around her. After she made sure no one was paying attention she turned and dropped four small pills into the glass. While she waited for them to dissolve, she concentrated on controlling her breath.
She delivered the beverage and took her seat at the table. She smiled at the band and kept time with a light tap on the table. She watched her husband smile and talk and felt the knot in her stomach. When he put his hand to his forehead, she rose from her seat and looked around the room.
“Are you ready to take care of some unfinished business, Mr. Walters?” she asked with a forced smile.
He nodded and finished off his drink.
“Good. Hector has my car outside. Please come with me.” She took his arm and they left the room.
After they settled themselves inside the warmth of the limo, she let the smile drop from her face and held out her hand. “Now, Mr. Walters, would you please be so kind as to give me the negatives and any printed photos you might have?”
“You’ve got the money then?”
“It’s in the trunk. I’ll have Hector get it for you when we stop.”
“Great. Here you go.” He tried to hand her the package but his vision failed him and dropped it. When he tried to pick it up, he could not keep his balance and fell forward.
She watched as he tried to sit up and ended up slouching in his seat. With ease, she leaned forward and took the package. “Are you not feeling well, Mr. Walters?”
“No. I’m feeling very weak. I think I’m getting sick. Let’s just pull over and you can give me my money and I’ll not bother you again.” He tried to stay alert while he spoke.
“You’re not weak. You’re dying.” She said as he tried to frown. “You see, I love my husband more than you could ever understand. And he loves me. But he’s got a big heart. I’ve always known that.”
Mr. Walters tried to nod but instead he let his chin rest on his chest. He struggled to reach for something in his pocket.
“Don’t try. Your muscles are relaxing and you soon your heart will join them. Let me finish. I knew about Amanda. I’ve known about her since the beginning. She is not a plaything and more of a woman than you would have ever been able to print in your terrible paper.” She listened to his shallow breathing. “And I love my husband too much to ever let someone like you destroy his career or his happiness.”
The car stopped and Hector pulled Mr. Walter’s body out of the car and threw it against the curb. “Are you okay Senora?”
She closed her eyes and nodded slowly. “Please just take me home.”
“Si. Your husband called. He is waiting.”

January Flash runner up: Unfinsihed Business, by Roxie

“What ya got here?” Detective Hardy said as he approached the scene.
“It’s Judge Robert Buckley, sir.”
“Buckley? Of ‘The Buck Stops Here’ fame?”
“That would be him, sir.”
“What happened?”
“Face is all swollen and his lips are blue, looks like stings all over his face. Coroner’s office is on the way”
Borrowing a phrase from Harry Truman, Judge Buck, as he was commonly known, made a name for himself for his tough stance on crime. He established his reputation by issuing unorthodox and humiliating sentences. He once made a father who was delinquent in his child support payments attend a NOW convention wearing a placard that read ‘I’m a Deadbeat Dad.’ He required a teenager with a drunk driving conviction to spend two weeks in the county morgue. He was a champion of the conservatives and a bane to the ACLU. Fancying himself somewhat the cowboy, although he’d always lived in the city, he kept a leather belt with an enormous silver buckle in the shape of Texas on display in his courtroom. For each conviction, he made a knotch in the belt. Now the mighty judge lay against the curb in the clubhouse parking lot of the Riverview Golf and Country Club, decked out in formal garb, tux, silver tipped bolero tie, snakeskin cowboy boots.
“Anybody see anything?” Detective Hardy said.
“”Nothing, sir. Grounds keeper found him this morning.”
“How’d he get here?”
“Guess he walked over here from the charity ball last night.”
“What about the tire tracks?”
“Don’t think they’re related. Probably just some rich brats doing donuts in the parking lot in Daddy’s Benz”
“Anything suspicious?’
“Not really, sir, just that he was wearing a Medic Alert bracelet and had a full Epipen in his jacket pocket, guess he didn’t get a chance to use it.”
Now isn’t that ironic? Detective Hardy mused as he walked to his car. The notorious Judge Buck, taken down by something as small as a bee.
*****************************************
It was 1972, they met in high school and fell in love. They were full of hopes and dreams, marrying shortly after graduation. Robert attended State University, Linda supplemented his scholarship money by working at the local bank. Their resources were limited, but they were young and in love. They made a promise not to touch the trust fund that Robert’s grandfather had set up for him. That money was for a trip to Hawaii for the honeymoon that didn’t get to have, and a down payment on their first house. They managed to get by. Linda would pick up some extra work catering from time to time to supplement their meager income.
Then came law school and a move to their next locale. Linda again found work at a bank and they leased a small apartment near campus. The years slipped by and she was content with their simple lifestyle and big dreams, he would be a politician or a judge, or maybe even both. She would always be content to be by his side and anticipated the lavish lifestyle that awaited her.
Linda thought Robert was beginning to be a bit aloof, but she passed it off as pressure from his studies. When he got a summer job clerking at Rosenberg, Weisenthal, Anderson and Arnold,she felt he was beginning to look down on her. And when he began having drinks with the fellows from work and didn’t come home until late, she knew something was wrong. She knew the relationship had changed, but she was ill prepared for the bombshell he dropped.
“I just don’t think I love you anymore, I think I’ve outgrown you.” he said, after she begged him to talk to her.
The divorce was simple, save for the trust fund money. The court ruled that Linda was entitled to none of it since it belonged to Robert prior to the marriage.
*************************************** Ovarian cancer, back for a second bout. She knew the odds and couldn’t muster up the fight she did the last time. She glanced at herself in the mirror, straightened her wig. Not too bad as a blonde. The most recent round of chemo had stolen the last traces of her hair. She painted on some eyebrows and tried to put on the false eyelashes, but ripped them off because they liked a couple of tarantulas on her eyelids. She looked quite svelte in her slinky black dress, thanks to the latest chemo induced thirty pound loss. Wonder if any of those snooty bitches will know I picked it up at the outlet store.
She thought about her sister. They had been the best of friends, could tell each other anything. Not twins, but couldn’t have been any closer if they were. After her sister’s suicide, both her parents died, and now Joe was gone, she did not think she had the strength or the willpower to wage the cancer battle again. She thought about her joys and disappointments over the years, the down side was weighing heavily.
She knew she could pull it off. All those years in the catering business, she knew how such functions went and how the so-called elite conducted themselves. She could slip in unnoticed, blend in with the crowd, she didn’t need an invitation, just follow a group in, mingle with the crowd, nobody would notice her.
*************************** The Furs and Spurs Annual Charity Ball was the social event of the season. Every A lister in town scurried to buy tables for this soiree. The limos lined up outside the Riverview Country Club to deliver the local movers and shakers. She arrived a little late, parking her aged Taurus in the parking lot of the golf course clubhouse.
Judge Buck attended the function solo. His latest bride, some twenty years his junior, couldn’t be there because she was recouping from her latest surgical enhancement in Puerto Vallarta.
She made her way halfway around the room before spying him. Judge Buck was engaged in conversation with a few other gentlemen as she quietly joined the group. It took a moment, but they finally made eye contact. His eyes widened, but the ever composed judge maintained his stoic demeanor. She smiled graciously and extended her hand.
“Hello, Judge Buckley. You remember me, don’t you?”
“Why of course,” he said as he shook her hand.
Judge Buck introduced her to his colleagues as an ‘old friend from high school.’
She joined the polite conversation for a few moments before pulling Judge Buck aside.
“Can I meet with you alone for a few minutes? I found something, a necklace, I think it’s probably belonged to your mother.”
He nodded in agreement.
“Meet me at the golf course clubhouse in fifteen minutes.”
****************************************** Alone in the parking lot, she waited beside a well used brown Taurus.
“Ok, so what’s this all about?” Judge Buck said, breathless from the long walk. “Why are you here?”
“Just like I said, Buck, just wanted to give you this necklace. I found it in an old jewelry box when I was doing some spring cleaning. I’m pretty sure it belonged to your mother, just wanted to give it back to you.”
“So why didn’t you just give it to me in there?” he said.
“Thought it might get too complicated to explain,” she said, “Me being your ‘old friend from high school’ and all. Anyway, it’s right here in the glove box.” she said as she pointed to the car door. “Have a look for yourself.”
He opened the glove box to be greeted by a small nest of yellow jackets, who were none too thrilled about being trapped in the dark, hot box. The wasps swarmed his face and he looked like a mad man flailing and swatting at the angry little demons.
“P-p-pen, Epipen, p-pocket,” he said as his face began to swell to grotesque proportions, his tongue so thick he could barely get the words out, gasping for breath.
“Here it is.” she said as she slowly retrieved the cylindrical object from his coat pocket. “Just a little stick,” she said as she jabbed the object into his arm, “Here we go.”
She watched as he wriggled and writhed and then stopped moving at all. She placed the Montblanc pen she was holding in her evening bag, took a quick look around, and got into her car.
As she was leaving, she just couldn’t resist the temptation to squeal the tires and yell as she drove off.
“This one’s for Linda, you son of a bitch!”
******************************************** Rhonda savored the sweet taste of revenge as she mentally checked that one off the list of things she wanted to do before she died.

January Flash runner up: Wrongful Death Suit, by A.J.

On the outskirts of the crime scene, a young girl was sobbing on her mother’s shoulder, her bike lying against the railing of the Denby Estate. Apparently she’s literally run across the guy’s hand with it.

Detective Johnson wasn’t exactly happy to have been called out so early. It was Sunday, and he’d been hoping, for once, to have a lie-in. Nothing much happened around Greenwich, but it seemed like it always happened on his day off.

There wasn’t much to go on, but the first officer on the scene had pulled a card from the deceased’s wallet with the name of a big shot lawyer, on retainer to the Lambini family. One of them had a sprawling Roman villa in the area – an eyesore in the genteel suburban landscape. In the dead man’s hand they’d found a spent bullet. It would be hard to identify, but the prevailing idea was that it was a symbol of some kind, maybe a warning to others? Another officer had had the brilliant idea of flipping through the bible lying on the ground next to him – any fingerprints would now be smudged. The only clue the fumbling idiot had yielded were the words “And anyone who has committed sins will be forgiven.
Confess your sins” underlined with a thick oily pencil. An eye for an eye? A tit for tat execution-style murder? Detective Johnson scribbled a note on his pad to remind himself to check for recent murders in the city. He knew for a fact there hadn’t been any in his jurisdiction. But he knew from experience that the family never messed around in their own backyard.

The one thing no one could figure out was the shoes. The guy was wearing a bow-tie, a black sash and an expensive suit – an Armani tux – yet on his feet were a pair of filthy Nikes, with holes in their soles. Go figure what the hell that was supposed to mean!

***


Ronald Merkin had felt his legs buckle, and before he knew what hit him, he lay sprawled by the side of the road, his mind filling with fog and his body refusing to respond to the simplest command like “Reach for the phone, NOW! Go on, reach, reach, REACH!” But by then his arm had felt like it belonged to someone else. It remained stuck, twisted beneath him and he could feel the blood stop flowing there already, but he couldn’t for the life of him make it move.

Why had he swallowed that drink at the Richardson’s? He hadn’t even checked his blood sugar before going out, and he’d left his insulin kit in his dressing room because it made an unsightly bulge in his tailor-made tuxedo. He hadn’t touched the hors d’oeuvres because he’d been mesmerized by the stunning brunette George introduced to him. When she said she was calling it a night, and he offered to take her home, she refused because she wanted to walk. He could have asked for her number; he was already feeling light-headed. But no, he insisted. Not alone, at night, in the deserted countryside.

This is it then, he thought. My last memory will be of a starlit sky in Connecticut, only a mile or so from my beame, with not a witness except an indifferent owl hooting nearby.

No. Not even an owl. The hooting stopped and in a quiet flutter, he heard the owl depart and a throbbing silence fill the emptiness left behind.

What’s that sound? Steps? Friend or foe? Do dangerous animals still exist in suburbia?

The sound neared, but Ronald couldn’t even turn his head in the direction it came from.

Less than a foot away from his head, the source of the noise stopped. A disheveled man looked down on him and kicked his shoulder. Not hard. Just to get a reaction.

“Hey man, you okay?”

Do I look okay? In his mind he was shouting, but no words came out.

“No, you’re not I guess. You look like shit man. Too much hooch I bet. Or maybe THEY got you. Is that it? Got me once too. Came down outta nowhere, put something in my head so I couldn’t think straight no more. Now there’s noises, people talking all the time. Is that what you got too?

“Not in the mood to talk, huh? Happens to me sometimes too. Tha’s okay. I can dig it.

“I guess you want to be alone, huh? No problem. Only thing, hope you don’t mind, is your shoes. If you’re not using ’em, I will. Mine’s got holes, big ones.”

Helpless to stop him, Ron felt the stranger remove his shoes, and in a pestilent clod, take his own off and slip them gently on his feet.

“There. That way you won’t get cold feet. Hey, that’s a good one. Cold feet. Get it?

“Here. I’ll leave this for you too. Doesn’t look like much – you probably think it’s just a scrunched up piece of metal, right? Well it’s not. It’s a Lone Ranger bullet, I swear. If you hold it in your hand – common man, keep your fingers closed – it’ll keep THEM from getting’ you again. You’ll see. When you’re feeling better, you’ll wanna thank me. But I’ll be long gone. Doesn’t pay to stay too long in one place.”

Chuckling to himself, the man walked away into the darkness. Emitting not a whimper, Ron was filled with a howl of despair only he could hear.

With his ear scrunched against the pavement beneath him, he felt the rumble of an approaching car before its headlights flooded the surrounding countryside. For a moment Ron was terrified it wouldn’t see him and he would get run over by it.

The car came to a screeching halt only a few feet away after it skidded to avoid him. The driver’s door opened and a woman jumped out screaming louder than her tires had.

“Oh my God, Oh my God, Oh my God...” Ron could tell from the way her feet slapped the pavement that she was wearing sensible shoes. When she came near enough he could smell her, he felt relieved. A mixture of soap, mothballs and strong mouthwash. She would know what to do.

Suddenly she was by his side, on her knees, reciting a well-known sequence of words.

“And their prayer offered in faith will heal the sick,
and the Lord will make them well.
And anyone who has committed sins will be forgiven.
Confess your sins to each other and pray for each other so that you may be healed…”

Normally Ron was known for his even temper. But if he’d been able to, he would have slapped some sense into the woman. Can’t you see it’s an ambulance I need? I won’t need to repent if you would just call one, RIGHT NOW! Please?

As though she’d heard his thoughts, the woman stopped praying and stood up. “We don’t believe in cell phones. But I wouldn’t call even if I had one. You should be ashamed of yourself. Roaming the countryside with the devil’s brew on your breath. I’ll pray for your soul.” She turned around and ran back to her car. Even though she wasn’t being any help, Ron panicked at the thought that she was going to leave him alone in the dark once more.

Within seconds she was back. There was hope yet. She deposited a heavy object on his chest. “Here. When you feel better, read this.

“The Lord’s word saved me If you let it, it will save your life too!”
The woman rushed off, got back in her car and in a squeal of tires, sped off to tend to what to her, no doubt, were more urgent matters. Ronald swore, on the bible, though not in a way the woman would have approved of.

One by one, the stars above him dimmed. His breathed only sporadically. One long difficult breath, then nothing for a while and then on their own it seemed to Ron, his lungs sucked in another load of oxygen and he was alive again, but for how much longer? Little by little, he stopped caring, or wanting to fight for his life. He just didn’t have the strength for it. Any moment all the stars would go out, and there was nothing Ronald could do to stop them. He felt himself slipping away into deep dark slumber.

Without any warning, a car flew by, kept on going and stopped. Almost as fast as it had gone by, it came back in reverse, in a professional-looking straight line.

Alert once more, Ronald saw a pair of shiny shoes walk briskly from the car toward him. A man bent down and peered at him, using a pen-sized flashlight. He placed his fingers on Ron’s wrist and said nothing.

He was taking his pulse! Finally someone with a rational response. Nearly a minute went by. He dropped the hand he was holding to the ground and took a cigarette from the inside pocket of his jacket. Still crouching, he exhaled a cloud of smoke and blew it in Ronald’s face wordlessly.

The way he stared at him, Ron thought the man was just going to watch him take his last breath.

At last, he put a hand inside Ron’s jacket and pulled out his wallet. Ronald remembered his medical I.D. was in it. Now the man would know he was a diabetic going into insulin shock. Maybe he would know what to do. If nothing else, he would call an ambulance.

Ron couldn’t see what he was fiddling with, but after a moment, he put Ron’s wallet back where he’d found it, and pulled out his cell phone. The last thing Ron heard were the first words that came out of his mouth: “Memo to self. Check paper in the morning. Find out if the guy – one Ronald Merkin – has any living relatives. Wrongful death suit? Make a change from my usual criminal cases.”


Steve’s comment:

This sentence: "Find out if the guy – one Ronald Merkin – has any living relatives. Wrongful death suit?"

Causes me problems. First, as I said, because it immediately makes my head jump to the suit he's wearing, but secondly, I realise now, because I've no idea what a 'wrongful death suit' is, anyway. I'm presuming, by the reference to the living relatives, that he's talking about somehow suing them for this man's death, but it makes little sense to me in the context. If he said something along the lines of 'find out if there are any living relatives I can slap a wrongful death suit on' or 'find out if there are any living relatives I can sue for wrongful death' I would at least understand immediately that he was a lawyer (which is the more important point) and blame my lack of comprehension of the charge on the American legal system (or the French one?). One thing I particularly like is the shininess of the shoes. I'd be tempted to add little gold decorative buckles.

Winter, now

A Poem by our newest member, Catriona

ALOOF
(OPENING/CLOSING)

I detest feminist movies
You said.
And now you’re seated next to me
Aloof and impersonal
Wrapped in the warmth of
Your red jumper.
You’re rumbling complacently
With eyes turned inward.
While
The crowd is buzzing with refined

Intellectual sounds.
And me standing in the middle,
Beside your self contained bulk.

It’s cold today.

Latest crew micros

Bacchus Interruptus, by Chuck

"Are you gonna drink that, Ed?"
Ed holds the cup to his face and smiles. "I used to think the destruction of mankind was inevitable, you know? The angels, they smiled upon us and we cried..."
"If you're not going to drink it can I have it?"
"It's like poetry really, isn't it? The great iambic pentameter of the universe. No doubt, no doubt."
"I sure could use that drink."
Ed turns his massive head toward Billy and stares at him through half close eyes. "You want this?"
"Yea, yea, yeah. Please."
"When all is crushed and ruined around you, the soul of man ripped and tattered, all you can think about is this...little...cup?" Ed holds the cup high into the air, then close to Billy's face.
Billy stares at the cup for a few seconds.
"I, I wa, wa, want it," replied Billy.
"Then my dear young scoundrel, you shall have it."
Ed holds the cup out in front of his massive body. Billy snatches it and quickly consumes the contents. Ed stares at his little friend.
"You want more, don't you?"
Billy squirms.
"Don't you my good friend?"
"Ye, ye, yes, I do."
Ed flings his head back howling with laughter. Bouncing the tip of his cane on the linoleum floor, he slowly catches his breath. Billy jumps up and down in time with Ed's cane.
"Billy!" Comes a voice, "You get away from there and leave Ed alone!"
Billy scurries off, only to be stopped by the Head Nurse. "Have you been at Ed's medicine again? Have you?"
Billy bows his head.
Head Nurse looks over to smiling, Ed. "Oh, Ed, if you can't be trusted to take your meds, I'll have to feed them to you myself!"
"There are worse fates, my dear. Many, many worse fates than that." Ed leans back in his chair and studies the ruins around him.


***

Duel , by Roy


It was dawn.
Two figures stood back to back, swords drawn and held with points close to their right temples.
The first shouted. “Ten paces, on my mark.
The other said, “Let’s get on with it.”
“Ten… nine…” Each took large steps straight ahead.
At the count of seven one man snickered. The other broke up at "Four!" and hit the ground laughing.
The director yelled “Cut!” and screamed for the prop man.


***


Unintended Consequences, by Vee

It slams into the bark of a slender birch tree with the force of gunfire penetrating human flesh. And I, John Andrews, the newest star of the best law firm in the city, am guilty of this terrible thing.
Dread is not a kind emotion, and right now, it’s telling me that the powers-that-be at Lawson and Bridges will not look kindly on my intolerable act. Bridges is so ancient he calls me `Ron’, so I don’t have to worry about him. But Lawson has a history of firing young lawyers without notice. He won’t tolerate any kind of negligence.
Dear God, here he comes. I gulp down the bile that just climbed up into my throat.
I struggle to smile. But surely that makes me look like an ass.
“Andrews!” He barks like a mad dog on an August day. Three of his four jowls are shaking.
“Sir?” I hear my voice quivering as badly as his jowls.
“Made me feel good, boy. Thought I was the only golfer in the country club to keep hitting that damned tree. Now I can tell them to cut the freaking thing down. Good lad.”
“Sir,” I can lie with the best of them, “That’s precisely why I did it.”

A Piece of a Tail, mini-micros by A.J.

“There isn’t a good time to say what I have to say, so I might as well say it now. I’ve decided to get a divorce.”

Rose lowered her eyes to hide a pyrite glint, flashing bright as the mid-day sun on the shimmering surface of their pool. Her grown children lifted their heads in unison. Why now, and why was she telling them?

Trying hard to look concerned, Herbert, the oldest, cleared his throat. “What on earth for? Aren’t you happy here, like this, with all of us?”

“Happy? Happy isn’t the point, is it?” Rose answered before pouring the rest of her drink into the water and walking away, the tip of her tail peeking out from the rim of her bikini.

***

“Did you see that?”

“What?”

“Oh come on, don’t pretend you didn’t notice anything.”

“I don’t have the faintest idea of what you’re talking about.”

“She dumped her Daiquiri. When was the last time you saw her waste a perfectly good drink?”

***

“Hey, Rosie, get us another round, would ya?” An old guy wearing a heavily stained mechanic’s overalls flicked Rose’s padded backside as she picked up the empty bottles from the table. She shot him a steely glance before her face relaxed into a smile as she snatched the bill from between his fingers.

“No problem Harry, so long as you’re payin, I’m playin.”


***