Sunday, July 8, 2012

He Lives to Fight


The Sunday Flash Factory 5 to 50/55 challenge prompt words in bold.

Steel the Ancient lives to fight, even if the prize is no more than a free bottle of tequila. Eight brutal fights in four months, all of them wins, has made him a legend in his impoverished neighborhood. At least that's what his brother tells him. Steel's memory is lost.

Tuesday, July 3, 2012

The Note


First published in Kings River Life

The note said, "Meet me on the corner of Walnut and 14th this Saturday at 8:00 p.m." and was signed Emily. Someone had left it scotch taped to the front door. I looked around and didn't see anyone suspicious.

"Who is Emily?" my wife asked, peeking around my shoulder.

I shrugged. "I haven't known anyone named Emily since high school."

"An old girlfriend?" Her eyes narrowed. "Why is she contacting you now, and why not just ring the bell?"

"There's no way this could be the same Emily." I reread the note.

"How do you know?" Karen stood, hands on hips, her nose raised. Her bathrobe fell open exposing the short, yellow nightie. She either didn't notice or didn't care.

I wadded up the note.

"Don't do that." Emily grabbed the mangled paper and smoothed it out.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"Meeting Emily Saturday night."

After ten years of marriage, I knew better than to argue with the look on Karen's face.

***

I saw the bag sitting on the bench at the bus stop. I didn't notice my name printed on the brown paper until we reached the corner.

"Billy?" Karen said. "I thought you didn't like being called Billy." She reached for the bag. "Is that what Emily called you in high school?" She glared in my direction. "Billy." It was more of a grunt than a statement. I grabbed the bag out of her hands.

"This is ridiculous. We're going home." I started toward the car.

"No, we're not," Karen said and took the bag back. She ripped it open. A piece of paper fell to the ground. She picked it up and walked to the street lamp. "It says to go to the Shop and Save on 14th and Maple." Before I could respond, she headed west on 14th.

***

Six blocks later we stood on an deserted street corner, looking into a store that was empty except for the Arab clerk standing behind the counter reading a magazine.

"This is stupid," I said. "Let's get back to the car and go home. It's getting cold." I hugged myself to emphasize my point.

This time it was Karen who eyed our surroundings. No one magically appeared. "I guess you're right. This was probably some neighborhood kid's prank. They like to do that to teachers."

"Oh? How do you know that?" I cocked my head to one side and smiled.

***

We arrived home an hour and a half after we'd left to a dark house.

"Did you turn off the living room light?" Karen asked.

"It's on a timer. I rarely go near it."

Karen bit a knuckle and hooked her other hand in my arm.

"We should call the police," I said, reaching into my pocket. "Damn, I must have left my cell home." Our closest neighbors were all attending a party across town, so they couldn't help. "Did you bring yours?"

She shook her head, her mouth frozen in position. I felt her body shiver. I was certain it wasn't because she was cold.

"I haven't seen any movement since we got here," Karen said. "Maybe the bulb blew is all." Her face told me she didn't think that was what happened.

She pulled my arm, and we crept up the sidewalk. A board squeaked as I stepped on the porch. We froze for a few seconds. Nothing. I unlocked the door and inched into the foyer. A noise emanated from the living room. I reached around the corner and flipped the switch. When I did, a dozen bodies leapt out of their hiding places.

"Surprise!"

I turned to Karen and held out my hands, as if to choke her.

"Gotcha," she mouthed.

She was right, but her birthday was in two months. I'd get even.

Sunday, June 24, 2012

Best Laid Plans


The Sunday Flash Factory 5 to 50/55 challenge prompt words in bold. [I overshot the word count this week, so sue me. :)]


My obituary wasn't in the morning paper, so I headed to Target. I entered the store and there she was. Red shirt, curly, grey hair, hunched shoulders. I smiled as I walked by, still unable to speak to her. But today I had a plan. 

I headed to the flower section to purchase a bouquet of green balloons. My passion wasn't the only thing left deflated when I was told about the helium shortage.

Sunday, June 17, 2012

Missing Person


The Sunday Flash Factory 5 to 50/55 challenge prompt words in bold.


The drought had turned the lake into a pond. The trunk of the white Mercedes, her prison, glinted in the sunlight. Boots floated in the rear window. I thought she’d run away. Now a mental checklist scrolled through my mind, as I wondered what I’d done to lead us here. 

Wednesday, June 13, 2012

The Houseguest


"Who's that?" Carl asked about the man standing near the fence.

"Says his name is Angel Lopez," Jake replied.

"For real?" Carl moved to one side for a better look.

"I know. He doesn't look like a Lopez," Jake said.

"You got that right." Carl listed to the left and shaded his eyes. "What is he, Chinese?" 

"Does it matter?" Jake turned and walked away, dragging his right foot, the one that got run over and cost him his job right before the company declared bankruptcy and went out of business.

"What's he want?" Carl said to the air.

"Says he needs a new home." Jake bent down and picked up a Cheerios box. "Wants to know if he can stay with us while he checks out the area." He peered into the box and threw it back on the ground, away from his home. "He was snooping around our stuff when I got here. Said he was checking out the accommodations." Jake looked toward the fence. The guy named Angel Lopez was taking a leak. "Like we're some kind of hotel. I should have asked him if the minibar was to his liking."

"Does he smell?" Carl asked.

"Not that I noticed." Jake continued his housecleaning by throwing a tattered shirt into the neighbor's concrete yard.

Carl straightened and turned his head toward Jake. "Did you tell him our carton is hardly big enough for the two of us?"

"Of course, I did," Jake slapped the back of his neck. "Damn mosquitoes are bad this year." He wiped his hand on his shirt and continued cleaning up the area. "He said he didn't take up much room." Jake looked at Carl. "I told him to take a hike."

"Guess he didn't hear you." Carl walked over to where Jake was standing. "Maybe we could let him stay for a couple of days. It'd be a shame to throw him out on the street." Carl put his hand on Jake's shoulder. "You know how that is."

Jake looked at Carl and smiled. "Why you old softy. You know that's why I love you."

Carl shrugged, his face flushed.

"Okay, he can stay," Jake said. "We've been sharing the same blanket anyway." He stepped back and pointed a finger at Carl. "But you  gotta wear some pants at night."