Daily Flash Fiction Challenge 82: The Hit

This is the 82nd in a series of 365 Flash Fiction stories I’m writing. You can find out more about the challenge here.

The Hit, by Jonathan L. Lawrence, 21st February 2013

Word count: 587

The story:

“Your choices are simple,” he announced the voice on the other end of the call, “Pull the trigger, or hang up and walk away. There are severe consequences either way. What’s it going to be Frank?”

Frank wanted to say ‘Fuck you’, but that was easier thought than said, the voice at the end of the call had explosives, Frank dare not piss him off, yet how could he shoot someone? Worst still, if he did what was to stop the voice detonating the bombs to hide the evidence.

“I’m waiting Frank,” the voice said.

Frank still had nothing to say, he was pondering whether he could run faster than the bombs, might be he could get away from the ones in the impromptu sniper nest, but that didn’t help the people in the train station. The voice’s target was going to be eliminated either way, but the explosives would kill and hurt many others.

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Daily Flash Fiction Challenge 81: The Fairy Godmother

his is the 81st in a series of 365 Flash Fiction stories I’m writing. You can find out more about the challenge here.

The Fairy Godmother, by Jonathan L. Lawrence, 20th February 2013

Word count: 669

The story:

“You can’t do this,” Lucy complained.

“I can and have, now get your things and go,” her manager Craig Roberts said indignantly, looking at her as if she were nothing more than a strain.

Lucy was determined not to cry, though it hurt. After eight months working here at Tyre Corp, to be fired so unjustly was almost soul destroying. She didn’t bother asking, begging or pleading, it wouldn’t help.

In a numb daze she gathered her things with all eyes on her she did the walk of shame when security approached. She sat numb on the bus ride into town, but even aware when someone took a seat beside her.

“Penny for your thoughts,” a smallish but deep voice said, breaking her depressing reverie.

“Sorry?” she asked.

“You seemed so troubled and far away,” the old woman that had lowered herself into the seat beside her said.

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Daily Flash Fiction Challenge 80: The Last Living Saint

This is the 80th in a series of 365 Flash Fiction stories I’m writing. You can find out more about the challenge here.

The Last Living Saint, by Jonathan L. Lawrence, 19th February 2013

Word count: 997

The story:

“Anything I do for you would cost me my soul, contact or no contract, ” Danny said.

“There’s no need to be melodramatic,” the gentleman said, “I have billions of souls, I haven’t come here for a single paltry. No, I just need you to carry a message for me.”

“I’m not really in a fit state to be messenger, if I was so much inclined,” Danny said.

“Your current state is what brings me here, you’ll be dead soon, so just pass a message on,” the dark figure said pressing his palm against the prostate form of Danny who was trapped beneath the wreckage of a car. “This means war,” the he whispered.

Suddenly Danny awoke in a cold metal box, draped in a sheet. He pulled the sheet from his head and tried to get his bearings. The box was small, he couldn’t sit up. After several experiments he found some kind of switch and a door beyond his feet popped open, he crawled out naked and cold. He wandered around and eventually found a changing room with ill fitting clothes in it, so he got dressed. It was quiet, he guessed through the fog that haunted his mind that it was night.

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Daily Flash Fiction Challenge 79: Spencer Saviour of the World

This is the 79th in a series of 365 Flash Fiction stories I’m writing. You can find out more about the challenge here.

Spencer Saviour of the World, by Jonathan L. Lawrence, 18th February 2013 (finally I’ve caught up, been one day behind every day last week).

Word count: 900

The story:

The odd thing about Spencer Redhill was that he had an aptitude for virtually nothing… Except for one solitary thing. He was a skilled hunter, not of games but of patterns. The guy was a genius with patterns, but he lacked qualifications, interpersonal skills, and ambition to put these skills to use commercially.

Nor was he like Sherlock who could pull patterns together from non-congruous data, it was a peculiarly singular and focused a special skill. If you were struggling on a word search, Spencer was your man.

So it was quite a shock to everyone when he became famous for saving the country from bankruptcy. It was all so shocking that this unassuming man would get tied up, be in a car chase, and a shoot out. It was a spy novel breaking out in real time, with the least likeliest protagonist.

I suppose I should start at the beginning for those in a coma or not yet born on the 5th October 2015.

Britain had just had an election, and a new government was in place. Almost immediately the national financial crisis hit home as the government was forced to default on payments. On the 5th October it was the third announcement in a row of defaulting on payments. It was a huge crisis, the credit rating had tanked, services were being cut to the wick, to no avail.

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Daily Flash Fiction Challenge 78: Vixen

This is the 78th in a series of 365 Flash Fiction stories I’m writing. You can find out more about the challenge here.

Vixen, by Jonathan L. Lawrence, 17th February 2013

Word count: 702

The story:

“Well that was a blast of fresh air. The girl I was just with liked it really freaky. I’ve been with plenty of women that thought that liked it freaky, but compared with tonight’s girl, there as vanilla as the yoghurt.

“Don’t get me wrong, I love vanilla, but cherry and spices made a real difference,” Craig the young man in the tight fitting expensively tailored beige suit said to his friends.

Each and everyone of his friends felt the instinctive desire to call bullshit. It was true that he seemed to have uncanny success with women, but blatantly he was prone to exaggeration.

“Okay,” Michael in the white open collared shirt said finally, “How did you meet this freaky girl?”

“Well I was in Bradford,” he started.

“Shit, you went out on the pull in Bradford. Do you not watch the news?” Tony in the blue rugby top asked.

“No why?” Craig asked bemused.

“There’s a serial killer targeting young men in night clubs. She’s been dubbed the Stairway to Heaven killer,” Tony informed his young boastful friend with relish.

“Yeah I was reading about that in the Metro,” Michael said.

“Oh if it’s in the Metro it must be true,” Craig observed drily. “Anyway, I can gaurentee, one night with me and she wouldn’t want to stab anyone anymore.”

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Daily Flash Fiction Challenge 77: Clean Up

This is the 77th in a series of 365 Flash Fiction stories I’m writing. You can find out more about the challenge here.

Clean up, by Jonathan L. Lawrence, 16th February 2013

Word count: 590

The story:

“Your name is Constance Sorrows,” the police officer asked.

“For the second time, yes,” the young woman said.

“So what were you doing here?”

“Oh, I was just in the area… Looking for a cash machine,” she said cocking her head to one side and treating the police officer to a warm smile.

“Okay,” the officer said taking note, “Bit of a dangerous place to be looking. There’s one out on the main road, about for streets that way.”

“Thank you,” she said then hurried off leaving the scene of the crime.

Constance didn’t go to the cash machine, instead she found her car that had been parked a few streets away.

As she drove she looked back at the flashing lights of police and ambulances. Hopefully they’d never know who took out everyone at a drug deal.

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Daily Flash Fiction Challenge 76: Space Swarm

This is the 76th in a series of 365 Flash Fiction stories I’m writing. You can find out more about the challenge here.

Space Swarm, by Jonathan L. Lawrence, 15th February 2013

Word count: 1000

The story:

“The odds are stacked against us,” the soldier, Private First Class Eric Whitehead stated.

“Yep,” the mysterious civilian said. Eric had some suspicions.

“We’ve barely got any ammo,” Eric pointed out.

“That’s true,” the civilian acknowledged.

“And I don’t know you from Adam,” Eric pointed out flatly.

“Funny my name is Adam,” the civilian said.

“Somehow I don’t believe you.”

“Fair enough, it doesn’t matter what my name is. I’m presuming you can put two and two together. I outrank you in this, so believe me when I tell you that if we don’t even try the Earth is doomed,” the civilian said. Eric was now sure he was Earth Defence Intelligence. “We’re in the ultimate behind enemy lines situation. This ship is on a direct course to Earth.”

“So the two of us are going to single handedly invade their cavernous engine room and destroy it?”

“I was hoping to be discrete about it, but that’s the general idea, yes.”

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