Tag Archives: danger

Short Story Of the Day (flash fiction) – Men With a Bow Saw by Bill Chance

Posted on by Bill Chance
“I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain.”
― Frank Herbert, Dune

I have been feeling in a deep hopeless rut lately, and I’m sure a lot of you have too. After writing another Sunday Snippet I decided to set an ambitious goal for myself. I’ll write a short piece of fiction every day and put it up here. Obviously, quality will vary – you get what you get. Length too – I’ll have to write something short on busy days. They will be raw first drafts and full of errors.

I’m not sure how long I can keep it up… I do write quickly, but coming up with an idea every day will be a difficult challenge. So far so good. Maybe a hundred in a row might be a good, achievable, and tough goal.

Here’s another one for today (#83) Getting closer! What do you think? Any comments, criticism, insults, ideas, prompts, abuse … anything is welcome. Feel free to comment or contact me.

Thanks for reading.

Men With a Bow Saw

Lucas spent a lot of time running on the Crosstown Trail. It was isolated and ran through some sketchy neighborhoods and that scared Lucas sometimes. One day it was cold and drizzly, with a thick fog rolling in, when he was out there by himself and he came around that bend, you know where it is, where it runs through all that thick brush. It’s like a green tunnel and even though it’s in the middle of the city, it is so quiet and dark it feels like you are out in the middle of nowhere. That’s why he liked it so much. But that day…

There were these two guys walking along. They were young and fit, muscular, and menacing. Lucas immediately saw them, before they saw him. They were walking off the trail and when he came across them they were looking into the woods and gesturing. They were looking intently, like they were seeking something or someone. But what really caught his eye is that one of them was carrying a bow saw – a big, heavy one. It looked like an odd but effective weapon and Lucas realized they were going after something they had spotted in the brush.

His heart skiped and a knot leaped into his belly and Lucas immediately jumped off of the trail and slid down into this little ditch where they could not see him. He had left his phone to charge and didn’t have it with him so he was on his own. He hugged the damp, cold earth on the side of the ditch, hoping the two men didn’t see him.

He could hear them talking excitedly, but the fog damped the sound and he couldn’t understand what they were saying. Then, Lucas heard the sawing. It was loud and hollow sounding and his heart kept beating faster and faster. He didn’t hear any screams, so their victim must be dead already. His mind raced with horror as the awful sound kept going. There would be a pause every now and then, and he could hear the men babbling, then it would start back up.

Lucas was about to go crazy with panic when the sawing finally stopped. But then, to his horror, he could hear the footsteps of the men as they walked off and he realized they were going down the trail right towards his hiding spot. When they reached his location, they could look down into the ditch right at him.

As they approached Lucas gathered his feet underneath and tried to brace his crouch. His only hope of escape if they saw him was to spring up onto the trail and bolt away as fast as he could. Lucas was a strong runner and hopefully, with the element of surprise, he could escape.

The second he completed his preparations, they were upon him. Now that they were closer, he could understand what they were saying and as he tensed, Lucas heard.

“Oh, these are just perfect.”

“Yes, we can coat them with urethane, not the glossy stuff, it’ll look cheap.”

“And they’ll support the shelves and will have just the look we want.”

He looked up at the two men. One still had his saw and the other was carrying a load of bamboo under his arms. Lucas remembered, there was a grove of bamboo around the corner… they were cutting bamboo for bookshelves.

There was a loud clatter as the bamboo hit the concrete trail. They had seen him. Lucas was covered with mud and loose leaves from his slide down and it must had scared the two men to death to find him crouched in the ditch like that.

There was nothing for Lucas to do but to go on with his plan. He sprung out, stumbled a bit, then picked up speed. He could hear one man screaming as he ran as fast as he could. He looked over his shoulder and saw the other one sprinting to the blue-lighted emergency phone a few feet back down the trail. Lucas realized he should have thought about that.

Lucas doubled his speed. Now, instead of racing the two men with the saw, he was trying to get out of there before the cops arrived. He didn’t want to have to explain about all that.

He did make a mental note to come back with a saw of his own. That bamboo was a great idea for bookshelves.

Short Story Of the Day (flash fiction) – Racing With the Wind by Bill Chance

Posted on by Bill Chance
“Faeries, come take me out of this dull world,
For I would ride with you upon the wind,
Run on the top of the dishevelled tide,
And dance upon the mountains like a flame.”
― William Butler Yeats, The Land of Heart’s Desire

I have been feeling in a deep hopeless rut lately, and I’m sure a lot of you have too. After writing another Sunday Snippet I decided to set an ambitious goal for myself. I’ll write a short piece of fiction every day and put it up here. Obviously, quality will vary – you get what you get. Length too – I’ll have to write something short on busy days. They will be raw first drafts and full of errors.

I’m not sure how long I can keep it up… I do write quickly, but coming up with an idea every day will be a difficult challenge. So far so good. Maybe a hundred in a row might be a good, achievable, and tough goal.

Here’s another one for today (#82) Getting closer! What do you think? Any comments, criticism, insults, ideas, prompts, abuse … anything is welcome. Feel free to comment or contact me.

Thanks for reading.

Racing With the Wind

Roger and Annette had to rush to the van from the basketball court. Annette ran with her oldest daughter’s hand in her own while Roger brought their young son, no more than a toddler, carried in his arms. A huge black angry cloud was building rapidly to the west and the boiling thunderstorm was beginning to kick up a cold fast wind.

As they piled into the van the humid heat of the Texas summer was shoved aside by a blast of cold storm outflow air. The second they settled in, locking the toddler into his car seat and making sure the girl had her belt fastened the wind rose to a howling gale. Dust and leaves rose in a shooting cloud and the van rocked from the power of the wind.

To watch their daughter’s game they had had to park across the street in the lot of a small shopping center. It was anchored by a big hardware store and the wind suddenly began grabbing the hundred shopping carts piled out front and sent them shooting across the lot like rockets, right toward Roger and Annette’s van.

They flew in a wheeled phalanx, upright and racing, some swerving a bit due to a wonky wheel, but most moving straight with amazing speed. Roger and Annette could do nothing but watch them come. Most were driving in a rumbling mass to the south of the van, where they watched them pass, hit the curb, and then tumble out into the street.

A few veered to the left and came close to the van, but due to a lucky act of providence, not actually hit them, although some only missed by inches. Roger, Annette, and their daughter sat there helpless, and felt a great relief and the sudden windstorm died down and was replaced by fat, pelting rain. They felt very lucky they had not been hit, though it would have been a nasty dent at worse.

The toddler, of course, thought the whole thing was a blast and laughed as hard as he could as he watched the shopping carts fly by.

Short Story Of the Day (flash fiction) – A Man Walks Into a Bar in Ouagadougou by Bill Chance

Posted on by Bill Chance
I went home with a waitress the way I always do
How was I to know she was with the Russians, too?
I was gambling in Havana, I took a little risk
Send lawyers, guns, and money
Dad, get me out of this
― Warren Zevon, Lawyers Guns and Money

The bartender pouring the absinthe, note the clear green color.
Pirate’s Alley Cafe, New Orleans

 

I have been feeling in a deep hopeless rut lately, and I’m sure a lot of you have too. After writing another Sunday Snippet I decided to set an ambitious goal for myself. I’ll write a short piece of fiction every day and put it up here. Obviously, quality will vary – you get what you get. Length too – I’ll have to write something short on busy days. They will be raw first drafts and full of errors.

I’m not sure how long I can keep it up… I do write quickly, but coming up with an idea every day will be a difficult challenge. So far so good. Maybe a hundred in a row might be a good, achievable, and tough goal.

Here’s another one for today (#79) Getting closer! What do you think? Any comments, criticism, insults, ideas, prompts, abuse … anything is welcome. Feel free to comment or contact me.

Thanks for reading.

A Man Walks Into a Bar in Ouagadougou

When Sarah decided to major in Botany and pursue it as her life’s goal her mother’s first (and only) reaction was, “Oh, dear, now you will never find a husband.”

Jobs for botanists are few and far between and she was eager to take the most extreme and exotic assignments. It didn’t take her long to end up in backwater West Africa doing research on plants used for traditional medicines.

She found herself in the City Resto Bar having dinner with a local businessman that she agreed to meet because he seemed harmless enough and could at least carry on a conversation. The place had the best sushi in Ouagadougou, which wasn’t saying much. Burkina Faso was landlocked, after all, and a very long way from the ocean.

The door opened and a large man entered. He had a jagged, angry crimson scar running from his left ear to his jaw. Sarah couldn’t help but stare.

“You find him attractive,” the businessman said. “Odd, I assumed you were a lesbian.”

“Why do you think that?”

“I thought that only a lesbian would be able to get as far as Burkina Faso without being caught by a man.”

“You don’t think I’m hot enough to snag a man?”

“On the contrary, you are the most attractive woman in Ouagadougou.”

“What about them?” Sarah gestured to the six gorgeous young women lined up behind the bar.

“Oh, the Russians?” the businessman let out a hearty laugh. “They don’t count.”

“Why not? They are very pretty. I can see that, even if I’m not a lesbian.”

“First, they are professionals. And I don’t mean professional bartenders. Take a sip of your Mojito and you will understand that they aren’t. Cheap rum and Mojito mix… that’s the extent of their mixologist skills.”

“It is a shitty drink. But if that is the first reason they don’t count, what’s the second?”

“They are spies.”

“All of them?”

“Oh yes. That is how they end up here. Desperate men, American or British or Japanese or Chinese, are scattered everywhere in the third world looking for love in all the wrong places.”

“Even here?”

“Especially here. They will marry some unfortunate expat sap, follow him home… and he is doomed. That’s why the Russians send their young women to places like this.”

Sarah didn’t buy that story but didn’t feel like arguing it. She understood the businessman was showing off and just making conversation. The scarred man settled in at a table and a cloud of gray smoke rising from the shisha he was smoking partially obscured his face.

The businessman followed her gaze. “Do you want to meet him?”

“You know him?”

“Very well.”

Sarah thought for a moment. “What the hell, see if he’ll come over.”

The businessman walked to his table and chatted with the man while he took up another hose from the shisha and shared the tobacco. They picked up the smoking apparatus, carried it over to Sarah’s table and sat down with quick introductions.

Sarah reached out for a third tube from the shisha.

“I don’t see very many women smoke,” said the man with the scar.

Sarah only replied with what she hoped was a haughty smirk and nod. In truth, she had never tried the shisha smoke before, though she had thought about it. It made her dizzy, enervated, and a little nauseated.

With very little prodding, the man with the scar told his story. He was in the army in Yugoslavia and then Bosnia but forced to bolt the country when his general Ratko Mladic, “The Butcher,” fell. He fled to Congo where he became a mercenary in Kisangani for Mobuto Sese Seko. He had to take off again when that dictator tumbled from power. He ended up in Burkina Faso.

“There is always work for a man that can use a machine gun,” he said.

Sarah’s head was still swimming from the shisha and she was drowning in waves of being attracted and repelled, excited and frightened… all at the same time. She realized how far from home she was. She finally understood how dangerous the world was. She decided she wanted to hear more. She decided to start with the obvious.

“Where did you get that scar?” she asked.

“Oh this?” he said rubbing his hand along the line across his face. “I left a bottle of Perrier out in the sun. Stupid. Didn’t realize how hot it was. When I tried to open it, it exploded.”

“Perrier?” asked the businessman.

“Yes.”

“Never liked the stuff,” said Sarah.