copyright Rochelle Wisoff-Fields
Brothers in the Fatherland
The guards never check the back, my brother Kurt had said.
I crouched in breathless darkness, rain Niagara Fallsing down the windows. Kurt was talking to the guard, getting me through security.
I gripped my pistol. Kurt was loyal but I knew that only a bullet in the tyrant’s head would set the nation free.
I heard a command and the van moved forward. We were in. Kurt thought this was intelligence bureau training. This would kill him.
I’m sorry, Kurt.
The van doors flew open. Rifles pointed at me. “I’m sorry,” Kurt said. “It kills me to do this.”
10 Comments | tags: assassination, betrayal, brothers, fear, fiction, flash fiction, Friday Fictioneers, night, rain | posted in Friday Fictioneers
The First Time
The Tower Bridge had always had good connotations for Robert before that night. He was waiting nervously by the north tower, as they had agreed, when the woman emerged out of the evening fog and walked towards him, high heels clicking confidently on the pavement. She was prettier than he had imagined from her voice on the phone. She walked past him a step, then paused and waited for him to fall into step.
“Where are we going?” he asked.
“A café near here I use for this sort of thing.”
“In public? What if someone notices?”
She gave him a mocking smile. “This your first time? Trust me, no one cares.”
She led the way to a small café and took a corner booth. She held up two fingers to the waiter and two espressos appeared as if by magic.
“Now,” she said, leaning forward. “What have you got for me? Come on; the first time’s the hardest, but it gets easier.”
“I saw my neighbor, Gavin Henry, reading an anarchist newsletter,” he mumbled. “He holds meetings at his house sometimes. Here, I have photographs.”
She held up a hand. “No need for evidence. We’ll find our own. You’ve done a great service to your country. You should be proud.” She took out a thick envelope.
Robert pushed it away. “Actually, I was hoping that you could give me information on my daughter instead. She was arrested five months ago. I can’t find anything about her.”
The woman grimaced. “Next time. For now, take the money.”
11 Comments | tags: Alastair's Photo Fiction, arrest, betrayal, dystopian, fiction, flash fiction, London, Tower Bridge | posted in Dusk
Copyright Jennifer Pendergast
Standing on the Edge of Realities
“I’m such an idiot! I walked through that arch, back to this world, and I find her sleeping with my co-worker. I came back—gave up paradise—all for her! Stupid! I can’t go back now—the magic’s all gone—and I’m stuck forever in this tepid modern world. I just want to belong somewhere: I’m only an outsider now.”
The cop was having a heck of a first day on the job. “That’s terrible, sir. Really. If you’ll just step back from the edge of the bridge, I’ll buy you a coffee and you can tell me more about it.”
58 Comments | tags: betrayal, bridge, fantasy, fiction, first day, flash fiction, Friday Fictioneers, magic, other worlds, police, suicide, woman | posted in Friday Fictioneers