Terrible Minds – Flash Fiction Challenge Part IV
A note from Samantha Gluck: My friends, and even those who read my work without ever engaging me, know full well that I’m a journalist and content strategist and that I feel profoundly blessed to be able to make a living doing what I love and, more importantly perhaps, what I love. Those same people probably have heard me post something on G+ or elsewhere about my inability to write fiction that anyone, anywhere would want to read.
My 16 year old son, Iain, writes fiction (and “surprise” poetry) almost every day, often to the detriment of his studies (we’re working on that). Iain, you see, doesn’t have the time — or desire — to maintain a blog. So, he asked if I could publish his contribution to this flash fiction challenge (his first, ever, outside of the school setting) on my website.
I came upon Chuck Wendig’s blog, Terrible Minds, quite by accident. when researching a psychiatry topic for a client (don’t ask). Wendig’s blog posts don’t talk about content marketing, journalism trends, or social media tools. But he shares his knowledge in a way that makes me giggle, sometimes with a blush. You see, he’s quite the potty mouth, but the dry way he slips these little gems in his posts just fascinates me to no end.
Anyway, despite the occasional potty word, I allow my 16 year old to read most of the posts, after I’ve reviewed them. Iain wanted to try to add some words to the already-in-progress flash fiction challenge. I warned him that these were most likely adults who have a lot of fiction writing experience and, while that’s a daunting thought for him, he still wanted to do it.
He added to HPetterson’s contribution from last week. Take a look below and share your thoughts with Iain in the comment section.
I looked at the man warily, sure, he looked like he just left a crack house, but there was something about him that I found… threatening. Maybe it was the scar on his dirty face, running from the corner of his eye to his jaw. Or maybe it was the fact that he seemed inhumanly still, his blue eyes never leaving mine.
“So, Mr. Hemmingway, I think you’ve realized by now that you are in a bit of trouble. Lucifer doesn’t appreciate you messing up his business. I’m sure you received his, ah, offer, and if I might say so, it is quite a generous one. If it were anyone besides you, Hemmingway, he would have simply killed you.”
I held his gaze steadily, praying to God that he wouldn’t see my hand creeping under the table for my silver xiphos.
“Yes it is quite a generous offer,” I said evenly, my hand gripping the familiar leather grip of my blade under the scarred wooden table,” but unfortunately, I am going to have to refuse, demon spawn. Go tell Lucy to fuck himself.”
As soon as the words left my lips, he lunged, black talons extended, right at my face. I jumped from my stool and whiled out of the way, bringing my blade around in an arc of death, severing his head and spraying the floor with acidic blood. The bartender stared at me in shock and fear. Not knowing what else to do, I threw some coins down on the table and sprinted out the door.