Flash Fiction Short Story: A Situation

I’m participating in Mel’s Midweek Writing Menagerie #7 and chose to use the first sentence starter.  Enjoy!

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A Situation

The first time I died, I was nineteen years old and resigned to my fate; the second time was a different story. Life with it’s strange plot twists, I think back, and my fate of dying with cancer was more dignified than where I am now. I fought the fight. I freaking kicked its ass! Let’s be clear here, it was no walk in the park. I had many conversations with the Almighty and my doctor’s who thought they were the almighty, about my situation. It was just that, a situation. One last option – surgery.

I died on the operating table…coded, flat lined. Sayonara everyone, that’s all she wrote. Okay, well she put the pen back down but dang if she didn’t wait a good thirty seconds before she jumps starts my heart.

Clear! Pow!

Clear! Pow!

In case you’re wondering, that shocking back to life f*cking hurts! So yeah. I was technically dead at nineteen, well at least three whole minutes. When I came to, life was ahead of me. Cancer was kicked to the curb, although it’s headline stayed with me for a year until I was given the all clear sign from the almightys.

So here I am ten years later, trying to shield some innocent girl during a freaking convenience store robbery and who gets shot? Nope, not me. Oh no, that’s not what happened. That would have been better, a hero’s death.

The innocent girl gets shot. I pull her out of the way. She was in her early twenties, who was weathered from life at a young age, not all that different from me. Although I was bald at her age – thanks, chemo, she had a headful of rainbow colored hair. She was crying and clutching her side that was soaked red.

Squeal of tires and the rev of the car engine sent the message the robbers were outta here.

“Hey? You back there?”

I looked around the corner and saw it was the owner behind the register.

“You okay?”

“I’m good, the girls been shot.”

Me, the owner, and another bystander rallied and had the girl, Mandy, bandaged up when the ambulance and medics arrived and took over. She asked I grab her backpack and ride with her. Okay, so I might have thought we might have a moment here. So the good guy I am, I did exactly that. She wasn’t typically my type, but you don’t mess with fate, right? Wrong.

I should have known better when she claimed I was her boyfriend to the medics so that they would allow this request. Let’s just say I was flattered and went with the flow. Why not, she looked like she needed me.

Nope. It was the backpack she needed, not the chemo surviving IT guy over here.

How do I know this while she is in surgery? It’s because I’ve been in the waiting room for three hours, and I decide to invade her privacy. Seriously, don’t judge me – you know you would do it too. Well, any guy would right, gotta figure out who this Mandy chick is?

Backpack contents:
1 – semi-automatic handgun
5 – bundles of $10,000 cash
2 – tee shirts
1 – small toiletry bag with makeup and a toothbrush and,
the piece de resistance 1 – picture of me sitting at my desk at work.

What the- Sh*t!

There is a mother and father sitting in the left corner holding hands waiting for news on their daughter in OR 2. On the right of me, is an elderly man who keeps nodding off and waking up most likely waiting on someone in OR 1. I’m there waiting on OR 3 or was about two minutes ago until I looked into that backpack. I shrugged it over my shoulder and headed for the elevator. Self-preservation is kicking in; she targeted me for something. There is money in here. Okay, I can’t ignore the gun either, was that convenience story robbery just my lucky day or a plan gone wrong?

I’m a nobody. The average looking decent guy who is good with computers, but not like super computer guy. When I step out of the elevator, I leave the backpack there. I look to the left and the right and realize I’m not in the lobby, strange that was the floor button that I hit. This area was a part of the hospital they are doing construction on, wires are hanging down, plastic sheeting is everywhere.

I get tackled from behind; a bag placed over my head, my hands are zip tied behind me. Not a big struggle from me, because the obvious muscle throwing me around like a rag doll has got to be Dwayne Johnson’s twin brother or something. Finally, I’m knocked out cold.

When I come to, I’m in a box of some kind. No, longer head bagged and hands-free of the zip tie. Feeling around it feels like a coffin, it’s dark, and there is little air, it smells like salt water. I also feel wet, did I pee myself?

Yes, this isn’t how I thought I would die. How do I get in these situations?

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Sure was fun participating in this week in the prompt, it’s been awhile since I participated.  You can participate and check out Mel’s Midweek Writing Menagerie.  Loads of fun and some good entertaining stories to boot.

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If you enjoyed my flash fiction/short story, click like below and let me know.  If you have a critique of the above I welcome that too.

Cheers.

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All rights reserved by the author.

FF#29 Armageddon and Unprepared

Armageddon

Weather

Angry and Mad

Rips through Concrete Landscapes

Floods away Remains of Yesterday

Displaced

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Unprepared

Trapped

Disaster Affronts

Closing Off Doors

Howling Wind, Rain, Darkness

Isolated

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Winner stampThese cinquain poems were inspired from Featured Fiction’s #29 Disaster Thriller prompt. Challenge accepted for cinquain poem and featured theme: “The world is plagued by a series of strange weather phenomena. You find yourself trapped in a city, completely unprepared and cut off from the rest of civilization.”

Armageddon is in syllable pattern (2,4,6,8,2) and Unprepared is in word cinquain pattern.

Check out other entries and vote (click on link this weekend) it’s always great fun.

If you liked/loved my poems let me know, by liking, sharing or commenting below. Also any tips for improvement always welcomed, we should learn something new everyday.

All creative rights reserved by author.

Want to learn how to write a cinquain poem?

I did, and this is what I found out! The cinquain (pronounced ‘sin-cane’ not ‘sin-kwane’) or also known as the quintain or quintet; is a poem or stanza composed of 5 lines.  The cinquain poetry is similar to haiku in that the rules for writing them are based on syllables.

Cinquain syllables in the following pattern:

Line 1 – 2 syllables

Line 2 – 4 syllables

Line 3 – 6 syllables

Line 4 – 8 syllables

Line 5 – 2 syllables

An alternative version of the cinquain poem, often called a ‘word cinquain’ is based on words, instead of syllables.

Word cinquain is in the following pattern:

Line 1 – 1 word

Line 2 – 2 words

Line 3 – 3 words

Line 4  – 4 words

Line 5 – 1 word

There are various opinions on what makes a good cinquain poem.  Some feel it’s best to organize to tell a story and admittedly I enjoy these kind due to the mental construction it leaves behind for the reader.  However, poetic devices such as assonance and alliteration can be used to help make cinquain poems memorable.  It’s purely up to your creative juices as there is no real wrong way to go about poetry.

Cinquain sample common story telling pattern:

Line 1 – Subject

Line 2 – Description

Line 3 – Action

Line 4 – Feeling

Line 5 – Conclusion

Leia’s Loss of a Son – Featured Fiction #13

ff-newAll that it was, and all that it could have been, was now irrevocably broken. The family was now once again torn apart from both the light and the dark, what Leia had feared since her children revealed their abilities in toddlerhood. Her vow and head council member to the New Jedi Order was to uphold the Jedi beliefs, morality, honor and justice. What could she do now, abandon her own son?

“Leia, look at me.” Han gently turned her face and she complied. “I know what you’re thinking, so stop it right now. Jacen is a grown man and choose his own path, it had nothing to do with you.”

Angered that he’d say it out loud, “It has everything to do with me, this family! How can you say that? The Jedi traits don’t come from you Han, they are me, all me!” She leaned into him and he held her while she cried. The sobbing was insatiable, it was tears for her sister-in-law and for her son. Jacen as a boy running through the fields, and taunting his sister. It was a blessing to have twins, it was a restart to life she’d never known from her own brother in those formative years. Now, her son was responsible for her brothers pain, her pain as part of her heart dissolved away into oblivion.

“Shhh, oh Leia.” The silence was heavy. “Can we bring him back? Maybe Anakin could…”

“No! Anakin can’t go anywhere near him he’s only 13 years old and in school. We don’t need him influenced by his brother.” Her solum look mirrored her husbands as she looked up from his shoulder, “Anakin will not take this well, and we need to protect him as long as we can.”

Han’s eyes where heavy with grief and resolve, “He is lost to us then.” Still holding his wife, Leia shook her head in agreement as the tears continued their retreat in silent mourning. He was her rock and she needed him, and he was here with her in all the pain.

There was a knock at the door, and Jaina opened the door slowly stopping at the edge of the bedroom, “Mom, Dad – – is it true?” Her youth was replaced with the worry and stress.

Unfolding herself from Han and reaching out to her daughter, “I’m afraid Jacen is dead and in his place is was born Darth Caedus.”

Jaina sat between her parents in stoic shock. “Aunt Jade is dead. Jacen… Darth Caedus, killed her didn’t he?”

“We don’t know for sure, sweetheart.”

“Dad, I felt it. I know…” Knowing Jaina’s connection to Jacen was special, she’d hoped she would be spared. “I felt the disturbance as well honey.”

“No, Mom you don’t understand. I felt his turn before, his tampering with boundaries. He’s always wanted more, you must know this.” Shaking her head to clear it. “I felt more than Jade’s life force being released, this was… was visual.”

Looking at Han, Leia stood on her weakened legs slowly as her voice strengthened. “Can you monitor him now? Do you know where he is? I don’t sense him anymore.”

“No.” She could feel her daughter lie. “It’s inconsistent, I can’t force the visions, they just happen.” Jaina looking to her father, “He’s not going to let anyone near him, except me. He thinks he can turn me, because of our connection. I think he’s waiting to find me.” Her stoic stature was starting to crumble.

“Waiting for what? Oh sweetheart, you’re stronger than your brother, always where. He’s no longer your brother, mourn for him now. Don’t pity him when you do see him, he’s no longer who you think he is.” Leia gritted her teeth and nodded to the strength of her husband’s words.

They were a grieving family in this moment for a choice and a history that was on a repeat loop in their family, but this cycle would be broken. It had to be, no more would Skywalker’s be turned to the unholy Sith Lords. By her last breath, Jacen is the last. Darth Caedus would not touch this family or jeopardize other innocents ever again. This wasn’t a vow as a Jedi council member, this was a vow of an angry mother.

Senior Prom 1991 Sonnet – Featured Fiction 10

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To be brave and ask her to the school dance;

My heart is thumping, and pulse is racing,

Sweat is peaking, and legs are shaking;

My approach is now, I dare the chance.

Her smile is friendly that gives me the cue;

Starting is weak, about a test in last class,

It was lame,and now I’m choking on glass;

The sigh she nods, deceives this won’t fall through.

The comic I am, I theatrically reach for her hand,

Twirling her in a dancers dip, her eyes twinkle a glow;

Confidence strikes, student applause grow.

The dance is the question, her answer grand;

A parachute saves my falling heart, months past the dance

Lest my diary prediction, one day a wedding band.

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I hope you enjoyed my Sonnet.  It’s written for entry in Featured Fiction 10 contest.  Featured word challenge accepted: Diary, Parachute, Comic.

All comments welcome, likes adored and sharing is caring.