My slightly long attempt at flash fiction (420 hits)
Category: Quotes & StoriesRating: 1.5 on 10 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by realpolitik (View user info) at 2007-06-01 02:10:10 EDT
The sweat grew on his back, forming tiny, perfectly circular mountains. Every once in a while these bumps would merge and a river of salty water would quickly slide down his tanned skin.
Cool mojhito in hand and panama on his head, he slowly watched the scarlet sun sink down into the ocean as the mosquitoes came out to feed. The fan spun uselessly overhead.
Whump
Whump
Whump
He put his tall slender glass to his forhead in an attempt to alleviate a day's worth of oppressive heat.
He had stopped wearing shirts long ago; all they did in this climate was catch what felt like two pounds of sweat he secreted each day. Soon, his hide cracked and new brown bumps began to rise. Probably Melanoma. Fuck it.
That was his philosophy, his reason for being. Fuck it.
Fuck
It
Fuck it.
He said it once aloud, smiling at the absurdity of it all.
"It is so hard to get good booze down here." He idly thought as he stared at the sun through the tint of mint, sugar, limejuice, light rum and the shit club soda that they imported for him. He didn't really even like mojhitos; but he was in the Caribbean, and as they say, when in Rome . . .
He owned the only nice house on the peninsula. It was nothing fancy, just four cinder block walls painted bright yellow. Sandwiched between the lagoon and the ocean near the tip of the peninsula, the squat abode was both admired and despised by every native of the village. Sure, they appreciated the American's patronage at the local "shop" but they secretly resented the lifestyle his dollars could afford.
It was the same way back in the states. No one really liked him, no one really knew him. Perhaps that is why he retreated to one of the most remote regions in Belize to live out his final days in the lifestyle which made him feel most like the stoic badass he thought he was.
As the sun began to merge with the ocean, he took the first puff of the night's cigar and let the dangerous thoughts seep slowly into his head. The raspy aroma of the cigar brought about the violent, nearly cathartic reaction he had almost begun to enjoy. Deep hacking coughs bellowed from his lungs. Looking down at his hands, he realized they were now covered in a mixture of black mucus and crimson blood.
Puff.
Cough.
Puff.
Cough.
This absurd ritual continued until his hands and forearms were covered in roiled bloody mucus. He put his cigar out on the one of the arms of his rocking chair, slowly inhaling the dying fumes.
Methodically, he rose and began to walk across the dirt road into shallow ocean on the Mosquito Coast. Slowly, he submerged his blood covered hands into the water allowing the crimson from his hands to mix and intermingle with the scarlet the sun painted on the water.
He stood in the warm depths until it was almost dark, then turned around to face his house. He laughed to himself. His house was the only one on the entire Island that could withstand the Caribbean storms of the Rainy Season, all the others would have to be rebuilt. Yet he knew that he wouldn't make it to the Rainy Season, not even close.
Fuck it. He said aloud as he began to walk back, I might as well fix myself another stiff one.
User Reviews
Submitted by TheUniter (user info) at 2007-06-01 23:22:29 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
Submitted by rob_berg (user info) at 2007-06-01 20:15:36 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
cool!
Submitted by MidnightToSix (user info) at 2007-06-01 19:56:21 EDT (#)
Ranking: -2
This was perfect, except totally wrong. I think what you meant to say was:
The words "flash fiction" have begun to work as a curse. All of my intuition and creativity are switched off upon reading them, and I accept the thoughtless tripe for what it is.
This was shit.
---------------------------------------------------
Submitted by Fey (user info) at 2007-06-01 04:38:06 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
The words "flash fiction" have begun to work as a magic spell. All of my natural curiosity and desire for closure are switched off upon reading them, and I accept the window into a story for what it is.
This was cool.
Submitted by DeathJester (user info) at 2007-06-01 11:08:15 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
+2 Getting my account back.
Submitted by mockidol (user info) at 2007-06-01 10:52:07 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Crimson is a bit loaded of a word. Be careful, but I do it too. Just something about it.
Submitted by sexualchocolate1984 (user info) at 2007-06-01 07:47:22 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I actually want to be old enough to retire to paradise and smoke myself to death!
C'mon "elderlyness"
Submitted by Merlina (user info) at 2007-06-01 05:53:34 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by Benny (user info) at 2007-06-01 02:28:42 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Interesting short story.
Submitted by NotVoltron (user info) at 2007-06-01 04:39:42 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Shark says: I'm a shark!
Protagonist: Fuck you, shark!
Submitted by Fey (user info) at 2007-06-01 04:38:06 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
The words "flash fiction" have begun to work as a magic spell. All of my natural curiosity and desire for closure are switched off upon reading them, and I accept the window into a story for what it is.
This was cool.
Submitted by Benny (user info) at 2007-06-01 02:28:42 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Interesting short story.