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.

mels-midweek-writing-menagerie

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.

Poem: It Would Never Be Enough

It Would Never Be Enoughturbulence
By Cassie Newell

It would never be enough
to only call you my friend

It would never be enough
to walk hand in hand

It would never be enough
to slip on a wedding band

It would never be enough
to start and raise a family

It would never be enough
to dance, to sing, to laugh with you

It would never be enough
to have a few years left

It would never be enough
to say goodbye in a short breath

It would never be enough

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All rights reserved by the author.
This poem was inspired by 30 Days of September writing prompts (11Sep2014).

If you enjoyed please show by “Liking”, “Sharing” or “Commenting” below.

Writing Prompt: HS Reunion Assassination

WR101 Prompt Series – 30 Days of September.  (05Sept2014)

HS Reunion Assassination
By Cassie Newell

I wanted the ground to open up and swallow me whole. I had been spotted.

“Heather Lancaster!” Squee. “OMG you look fantastic! Books did the body good, huh? Have you seen Peter? Gosh I haven’t seen him Arma di Seduzionein like twenty years or something.”

I mean who in their right mind, forgets where they buried the body? Apparently I do, after so many years the brain begins to fade, on all the crappy shit you said and did, when you were youthful. Unless they were said or done to you of course.

Trying not to engage with Buffy to much, to cause a scene, “Hi. No, I haven’t seen Peter since graduation and he left for the military.”

This high school reunion seemingly wise to come to, was bringing it all back why I escaped the clutches of this small town. Had I come here under good pretenses versus adding to the body count in which my employer paid me for, I might try to chat with the old inmates of the town. However it wouldn’t be Peter since he died at my hands decades before.

Buffy starting bouncing looking behind my shoulder, never a good sign. “Kiera, Mary and Shannon, check out who this is — Heather Lancaster!”

There I was completely side tracked with the pom squad who is now commenting on my dress and physic while directing personal questions of my life, that personally I would rather eat the bullet I have than place it strategically in the new congressman’s heart. Lord, have divorces gotten messy now, it’s murder that is easy, poor fella.

I don’t remember what the four horsemen of the apocalypse where rambling about when I saw my target, I just remember that I walked away waving goodbye when I saw the guard to the congressman approaching me.

Stopped in my tracks. “What the…”

Peter smiled, “It’s good to see you too, Heather, it’s been a long time.”

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I hope you enjoyed my flash fiction/short story. It’s written for the WR101 daily prompt series – 30 Days of September.  I used the sentence starter and had a great time just writing for a bit.  Who knows, I’m think I may expand later; I’m starting to enjoy Heather!

All comments welcome, likes adored and sharing is caring. Check out the other WR101 Writing Prompts this month!

All creative rights reserved to 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