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.