Daily Flash Fiction Challenge 128: Frigging Frigates!

 This is the 128th in a series of 365 Flash Fiction stories I’m writing. You can find out more about the challenge here.

Frigging Frigates!, by Jonathan L. Lawrence, 7th April 2013

Word count: 815

The story:

The Captain pushed his little fighter into a spiral to dodge around the crimson beam of light fired by destroyer.

“Gamma flight leader,” the Captain said into his microphone as he desperately tried to keep his fighter ahead of the destroyer’s firing solutions, “Wing down. Last survivor, destroyer Kremlin has crossed the border and is attacking.”

Having sent his message he pushed his little vessel for all the acceleration it could give to give him space from the fourteen plasma impregnated laser cannon aboard the Russian Federation destroyer.

“Gamma flight,” a message came back after over a minute of the Captain’s hard flying to stay alive, “Reinforcements are inbound, two minutes. Stay alive Captain, that’s an order from the Admiral.”

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Daily Flash Fiction Challenge 127: Round and Round

 This is the 127th in a series of 365 Flash Fiction stories I’m writing. You can find out more about the challenge here.

Round and Round, by Jonathan L. Lawrence, 6th April 2013

Word count: 1,000

The story:

“One day you’ll go too far with theses plots of yours, and I’ll have to execute you,” the the Queen said through the bars of a cell.

“Don’t you see? This is it,” the wiry man, dressed in fine robes from the other side of the bars. “Your reign is over, my brother will make himself king.”

“I’m sure he’ll make a fine king,” the Queen said, “Except my Kingdom has a Queen.”

“There’s no taking with you is there?”

“Reuben, did you expect different? You took my castle, you snuck men in under the promise of peace, and you took my castle. You didn’t take the kingdom, and so now you’re here to convince me give me up my rule, my authority, my reign,so that you can have my kingdom,” the Queen said sitting daintily down on a bench, as gracefully as if it were a throne.

“I’m here to argue for your life,” Reuben said, “You don’t have to die today. You can live, go into exile.”

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Daily Flash Fiction Challenge 126: Cruel Hands

 This is the 126th in a series of 365 Flash Fiction stories I’m writing. You can find out more about the challenge here.

Cruel Hands, by Jonathan L. Lawrence, 5th April 2013

Word count: 328

The story:

“You shouldn’t be surprised,” I told him, rather bravely at this point.

“What’s that meant to mean?” it asked, impatiently.

“You’re a god, maybe I believe just a little that you are the God, nothing I can do can surprise you,” I said, you know really baiting him. I’d been through as literal an interpretation of hell as you could ever get close to in your worst nightmares, and I felt owed this.

“I don’t think you understand the position you’re in,” it said, it’s words dripping with ire, “I don’t know who or what you think I am, and I do not care. What I do care about is that you didn’t finish the job.”

“You can’t expect me to do what you asked, you can’t expect anyone to do that. It was a baby,” I said, painfully aware it’d moved me past any answers. “Why don’t you do it?”

The next thing I know I was flying through the air at high speed with no way to control myself. I could see the Earth far below, and getting rapidly closer. Then abruptly I stopped.

“Will you do my bidding,” a voice boomed from the sky, as loud and menacing as thunder.

I was scared, “No!” I shouted despite my fear. I was stuck, just hovering there, hundreds of feet above the ground, no way to move, and no where to go if I did. It just left me there.

Finally after what seemed like hours I was lowered to the ground, I looked around to find myself surrounded by nothing but sand.

“This my punishment?” I shouted at the sky, but it never answered. It was done with me.

Fortunately as I was waiting for the response I caught faint sounds of civilisation somewhere to the West. I set off across the desert, altering my clothing to protect myself the best I could. It didn’t take long to find Las Vegas. It was somewhere at least.

Daily Flash Fiction Challenge 125: The PM

 This is the 125th in a series of 365 Flash Fiction stories I’m writing. You can find out more about the challenge here.

The PM, by Jonathan L. Lawrence, 4th April 2013

Word count: 645

The story:

Life returned to normal slowly. The war, the insurgency, and the victory, they had taken months, but life after was slow.

It wasn’t hard for Doctor Hammersmith to understand why, everywhere you looked signs of the occupation stared you in the face. Empty homes, possibly from those that fled the cities not yet to return, most likely they were slaughtered.

Still life went on, and it was Doctor Hammersmith’s job as Prime Minister to make sure it did. Which was why this very day he was sat behind his desk at his office in York about to sign into law an order for mandatory service for everyone over the age of fourteen to apply for no more than ten years.

It was the most extreme law he had passed, but a nation in shock and mourning would not survive, life must go on.

“Margaret,” he called, and in moments the Prime Minister’s secretary popped her head round the door.

“Yes sir?”

“Fetch me Cooper Sinclair,” he instructed her.

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Daily Flash Fiction Challenge 124: The Quarry

This is the 124nd in a series of 365 Flash Fiction stories I’m writing. You can find out more about the challenge here.

The Quarry, by Jonathan L. Lawrence, 3rd April 2013

Word count: 625

The story:

Callum dug himself deeper into the coat rack inside the fashion store. He waited warily, he could hear his pursuers inside the shop kicking things over trying to find him.

It had been two hours of relentless chase, and they were determined. Breaking into the shop had been Callum’s act of desperation, it was the only thing he could think of, his energy was spent, he needed time to recharge.

“He’s in here somewhere,” growled one of the pursuers.

“We’ve looked, what if he’s not? He might have broken the door to distract us,” another said.

“Right, I want a watch on the front and rear exits, the rest of us will spread out see if we can’t pick up his scent,” the first voice said.

Callum breathed a small sigh of relief. It was in that moment he felt his drained powers starting to return finally.

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Daily Flash Fiction Challenge 123: Potential

This is the 123nd in a series of 365 Flash Fiction stories I’m writing. You can find out more about the challenge here.

Potential, by Jonathan L. Lawrence, 2nd April 2013

Word count: 639

The story:

“You understand your here to learn, not play,” the man said seriously.

“Yes, John,” the boy said dismissively.

“John isn’t even my name,” the man complained, “You can call me Mister Simmons.”

“Whatever you say John,” the boy said.

“Okay, let’s just talk for a bit, Michael,” Mister Simmons said taking a seat opposite the young teen, “Man to man, okay?”

“Whatever,” a Michael said, uncertain at the new approach.

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Daily Flash Fiction Challenge 122: Meadow Hell

This is the 122nd in a series of 365 Flash Fiction stories I’m writing. You can find out more about the challenge here.

Meadow Hell, by Jonathan L. Lawrence, 1st April 2013

Word count: 278

The story:

“You must be joking,” the police officer said.

“Do I look like I’m joking?” the army sergeant said, “Someone’s stolen a nuclear missile.”

“That’s why we need your help, there are teams coming in from all over the UK, but we have to get moving now,” the sergeant said.

“Okay, okay, what does it look like?”

“Are you joking now?” the sergeant asked, unamused, “It’s long and pointy, on a flatbed truck.”

The police officer turned away and used his radio to call dispatch. “Your kidding?” the police sergeant said, “And you’re sure? I don’t believe this.”

“What is it?” the army sergeant demanded.

“Three soldiers with it?” the policeman asked.

“Yes they’re missing too,” the sergeant said.

“Could have mentioned that, though I’ll grant you a missing nuclear warhead probably does take precedence,” the police officer said with no particular sense of urgency.

“Thankfully it’s not got a war head,” the sergeant said. “Now what did they just tell you?”

“Oh yes,” the policeman said, as if just remembering, “Three men in fatigues are currently arguing with a traffic warden about an illegally parked massive truck in the Meadowhall.”

“Your kidding? This is no time to be joking? Is it true?” the sergeant demanded in a torrent of questions.

“I’ve told the police officers in their way there to detain them there,” the policeman said, “If you hurry, I’m sure you can diffuse the situation.”

The sergeant rushed off to his Land Rover, leaving the police station without stopping to say thanks or even bye.

The policeman went to tell the whole station, not that anyone would believe the army had misplaced a nuclear missile in Meadowhall.