Friday, September 16, 2011

Flash Fiction

This is a short flash fiction I wrote about a year ago and just found in a notebook.

Rick carried his plate of meatloaf and pasta toward his table. The silverware clenched in his right hand beneath the plate made clinking sounds as he walked. Rick put his glass of chocolate milk down on the table first and then his plate and silverware. 
"Hey," Rick said as he sat down.
"What's up?" Jason said. 
"Nothing man, just glad this week's almost over. It's been a bear. You comin out with us tonight?"
"Yeah, I guess. I mean it - SHIT!" Jason's eyebrows lifted higher than Rick thought they ever could. 
"What the hell, man?" he said. 
"I think I just saw a bear outside the window." Rick's voice was serious. 
"You saw a what, where?" Rick flipped around in his seat. This was going to be one of those stupid, "made you look" sort of things, he could tell. But Jason had sounded so shocked that maybe just maybe - Rick felt his own eyes widen. The hinge of his jaw opened just enough for the bottom of his face to hang. It really was a live, freaking bear!
Rick leapt out of his seat and cringed at the sudden shrieking in the room. Other people had seen it, too. At least that meant he wasn't crazy. But it also meant he could become bear chow any second. Suddenly, Rick was being jabbed with elbows and assaulted by the screaming. 
Somebody shoved him into the table until his solar plexus met with wood and he slammed his face into the plate of meatloaf. Someone grabbed his shoulder and used the leverage to climb on top of his back. Rick screamed as three of his ribs cracked. He could hear neither his own scream nor that snapping pop ribs made upon breaking.  
Rick coughed, trying to pull some air into his lungs. He looked down. He didn't remember putting ketchup on his meatloaf. The thought was torn away as someone drove a spiked heel in between the tiny bones in his wrist. Rick could no longer feel his legs. The table began moving, pitching sideways. Rick tried to blink and focus on the dark cherry wood. He could no longer hear any screaming or see anything other than a small knot in the top of the table. His eyes blinked closed and refused to be reopened. 

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