Flash Fiction | My Dark Side

Of course I'll be posting pieces of flash here, mine and hopefully yours. Please feel free to send me any piece of Flash you would like to see here.

Let's have fun!

Flashes Of Darkness?
Susie Lehto

I didn't want to leave Patti and Jack alone that night, I had a hindering feeling that something bad was going to happen. When I woke the next morning I wanted to call to tell Patti not to let Jack go to work that day, but I didn't.

Jack worked hard all day in the heat without any breaks in the day because of a hard driving boss. That evening as Jack was driving home from work his pickup was seen leaving the highway and he was dead.

It wasn't the long hard day, it wasn't from staying up half the night with Patti's embraces. A blood vessel in his heart broke and he was gone.

The next day Jack was captured on camera at the scene of the accident.

This is a true story, but names were changed.

Cheated To Death
Alex Crabtree

E

very couple of seconds the windshield wipers gave Janice about a half a moment's unobstructed view of the darkened roads. It was flame-fueled emotion that gripped the wheel of the car. Not the flames of anger, but that of excitement and passion.

Frank had phoned to tell her that it would be well into the night before he got home. The Jacobs project needed a major overhaul before tomorrow's presentation, and the re-work would take more than a few hours.

She silently thanked the Jacobs Corporation.

Her adrenalin driven thoughts were taking her into the realm of aching anticipation. She couldn't get to the hotel fast enough and was controlling the car just enough not to slide.

She was brought to a halt by the traffic light at Powers Road and Route 134. The longer she sat there the faster her heart would beat wanting blood into her veins. Heated desire took over and drove the accelerator to the floorboard.

She glanced over her left shoulder just in time to see two brilliant lights filter through the rain-speckled window.

***

Terri sat at the foot of the bed and looked at the alarm clock on the nightstand. She began to worry. Her lover had called her over an hour and a half ago and said to meet him at the hotel. He said that he bought a few hours and was needing to be with her.

She checked her cell phone for the third time, and sure enough, it was on. She got up and poured another bourbon and decided to distract herself by turning on the TV.

"......... the scene of a dual fatality accident on Route 134."

All sounds were silenced as Terri's senses were channeled to sight. She saw, in the waning rain, two cars that had fused together into one mangled heap of twisted metal.
Horror rained upon her as she recognized Frank's BMW in the floodlit scene.

Celebration Of Stupidity
Alex Crabtree

The party was set. Balloons, food, entertainment, and even fireworks were ordered. The rented hall was decorated with banners and flowers. Invitations were sent.

Clyde saw the envelope on Delbert's kitchen table, "You got one of them too, huh?"

"Yep, but I can't read it."

"Me neither."

The First Annual Illiteracy Jubilee was a bust.

Storm Litter
Alex Crabtree

Another storm had roared through the valley. It was late spring and atmospheric disturbances were fairly common. Some of the outbursts left great messes in their wake.


"It sure came down hard."

"Yep. Left a helluva mess too."

"At least it wern't cows and goats."

"Yep. Cats and dogs is easier to get with shovels."

Lynching Lucy
Alex Crabtree

"Who?"

"You know, that Xena chick."

"Oh. Lucy......ummmm......Lucy.....dang."

"Yeah, her."

"Let's take a look."

When Curt opened the trunk of his car Rod saw a woman who was hogtied and gagged.

Rod said, "WOW! Now that's really Lawless."

Forged Existence
Alex Crabtree

Claude was in the "box". He knew it was just a formality, because he had already confessed to Detective Robinson, the fact that he had killed his wife. The good Detective was just using the interrogation room for the recording of Claude's confession.

Robinson sat across the table from Claude, pen in hand, "At what time did you kill your wife?"

"Last evening, at ten thirty." Claude shifted slightly and adjusted his tie.

The well-built, black Detective took a sip of his water and continued, "Was there an argument beforehand?"

"Not an argument, just a minor disagreement." Seeming to brush something from the sleeve of his expensive looking pinstriped suit, Claude went on, "She knew too much and was going to go public with it."

"Knew too much about what?"

"My counterfeiting."

Robinson sat back and rubbed his baldhead, "Counterfeiting?"

"Yes. It's my life. My nature. It's what I do best." Claude sat erect, as if he were being asked a question in English class rather than being interviewed about a murder.

"What do you counterfeit? Money? Bonds?"

"Why everything, of course. It's more of a lifestyle than a means to make a living. And, I employ no one else, because there are none who can live up to my standards."

"I still don't get it. Everything?"

"Yes. Money, bonds, certificates, passports....everything. You saw that 1969 Camaro in my driveway, right?"

"Yeah. Special edition, with the 'vette engine. Correct."

"Absolutely. Only three hundred and fifty were made. Worth over a hundred grand." Claude smirked, "Mine is a fake. Built it myself. It would take a fairly extensive metallurgical examination to uncover it as bogus." Claude's slight body leaned forward a bit, "Even the way I murdered Sharon was replicated."

"How so?"

"Three shots through a pillow, into her head. I saw it on one of those forensic science shows. I mimicked every detail. Even handcrafted an exact replica of the pillow used in the re-enactment."

Robinson wiped a little sweat from his head as he began to feel that Claude was feeding him some kind of cock and bull story, "You said she knew too much, yet it seems that counterfeiting and forgery are what you thrive on. How could she not know?"

"Oh, she knew most of it," Claude smiled. "In fact we got together because I forged her asshole of a boyfriend's signature on an IRS check, so that she could cash it."

"Well then, what constituted 'too much', in your eyes?"

"She found out that I had counterfeited our marriage license. This upset her so deeply that she was going to turn me over to you guys."

"Damn," Robinson uttered. "You've got quite a tale started here."

"I assure you that it is all true, Detective."

"Well Claude, I'm gonna have to read you your rights..."

"Ummm...actually...it's Claudia. And I... am....a...well....a clone."

Deeps furrows instantly fortified Robinson's forehead, "What was that?"

"Yep. Even my birth certificate is bunk."

Jus then, three uniformed policemen and a man in a cheap suit burst into the room.

"Okay Bo, it's time to go home," the suited man directed towards Robinson.

With a look of deflated surprise, Robinson said, "But I ain't even got a doughnut yet."

"We'll get you one on the way out." The three Uniforms escorted Robinson out of the room while the Suit sat at the table.

"What's this all about?" Claudia asked.

"Well, Bo is a resident at Spring Days Mental Health Center. He is a delusional psychotic who believes he is the greatest gumshoe alive. That coupled with a flair for the confidence scam allows him to pick up citizens on convoluted charges, after his frequent escapes. He's then, somehow, able to bring them in and interrogate them, right under our noses."

"I thought there was something strange about his procedures." Claudia paused and then asked, "By the way, who are you?"

Getting his badge out, "Detective Marty Samuels. I hope there was no harm brought to you, and this was just a minor inconvenience."

Claudia's pencil thin moustache spread wide across her narrow face, "No detective. No harm."

"Are you planning litigation against the department?"

A slight chuckle as Claudia relaxed in her seat, "Oh no. It was all quite fun."

"Then you wouldn't mind signing a waiver?"

"Show me the dotted line."

"I'll be right back. I have to get the form. May I get you a coffee or something?"

"Not unless you have latte." She laughed.

"Outta luck there." Samuels left the room.

While the Suit was gone, Claudia had a change of heart about the confession. She had come clean to a mad man and was given a chance to walk away from the mess, at least temporarily.

Samuels returned and set the form and a pen on the table. He pointed to the dotted line and Claudia signed it.

Claudia offered her hand and Samuels shook it saying, "I'm so glad you're being such a good sport about all this."

"Oh, this has been such a delight. It will make for many a retell." With that Claudia left.

As Samuels was filing the form, he noticed the signature. "Rich Little," he mumbled loudly.

Saving The Day At Massimo's
Alex Crabtree

"Gee Rollie, you got in da papers." She said while smacking her gum.

"Yeah Doll. Big hero, ain't I? Da guy runs right into me an' I couldn't help but ta knock him down." Cigarette dangling from his lips.

"I see you was watch shoppin'."

"This? Nah, I just didn't think Massimo's would miss it."

Dementia 1974
Alex Crabtree

"You killed Pops?"

"Hell yeah. I figure it'd be cheaper to bury 'im than to put 'im in a home."
"What the hell?"

"Seems he seen Julia Childs holdin' a butcher knife an' thought she was gonna slash up on
ol' Dinah Shore. Put his cane through my new color television tryin' stop the attack."

Destiny? What Destiny?
Alex Crabtree

Gabe Joshua, ace investigative reporter for The Daily Trumpet, had landed an exclusive interview. He was sitting at the mahogany desk of G. Iam, CEO of Universe Systems. Iam hadn't spoken directly with anyone publicly, much less granted an interview, in years.

After the initial bio type questions, 'Where were you born?', 'What was it like to be an orphan?', 'How old are you really?', Gabe started to put forth some hardball inquiries.

"Destiny is a word that has been stapled to your name quite often through the years. Some folks, in fact most folks, believe that you control every move in your organization and have hands on execution of even the most minor of your precise plans. Is this how you see it?"

Iam leaned forward and folded his hands on the desk. The quality of his thick white hair and beard made him to appear ageless in some peculiar fashion, "I always find it amusing that people can think that I am so talented and hardworking that I could actually manipulate every aspect about everything that goes on here." He chuckled and continued, "Even Henry Ford, whose concern was much, much smaller than this one, told the world that he didn't have his hands in everything his company did. No, I had complete control, oh so many years ago, when I first fired this thing up. But, it had been my intentions from the beginning to just sit back and watch it all happen, at some point.

Then with a deep grin and an impish twinkle in his eye (the twinkle that was the model for the brightest star in Ursa Major), G. Iam said, "Destiny is not priority one; sometimes, shit just happens."

Where's The Greenhouse Effect Now?
Alex Crabtree

The sign read 'End Global Warming! Shut Johnson Chem Down!' Adam Johnson chuckled as he put his binoculars on the sill. Protesters always look foolish, he thought.

Adam called the news station. He had to share this joke.

He threw a log on the fire. There was no end to this cold snap.