Thursday Fiction
Just another little story I wanted to share :)
[Fast Fiction: The Wrong Place - February 2, 2006]
For Ben, the prospect of dying with his pants down around his ankles had never once entered his mind. It wasn’t, after all, an extremely popular way of going out.
“When I die, I want it to be quietly in my sleep, just like my grandfather,” he would often state, “not screaming in fear like his passengers!”
He wasn’t screaming in fear at the moment, but he wondered how long that would last. Already he felt its cold hand clutching at his chest, building the terror that demanded a vocalized release.
“Of all the gin-joints in this damned city, I had to come into the one that’s frequented by mobsters during a hit,” he whispered through gritted teeth, finally letting a tear drop.
He squeezed his legs in an effort to relax his muscles. The cramps were so severe his legs had gone numb. Falling on his face would do him no good now. His only option was to wait it out and hope someone would eventually walk in and see him.
Ben looked between his legs and into the bowl. The little red light continued to blink. “Booby-trapping a toilet is just wrong on so many levels,” he cried.
[Story (c) Mike Aragona]
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons License.
[Fast Fiction: The Wrong Place - February 2, 2006]
For Ben, the prospect of dying with his pants down around his ankles had never once entered his mind. It wasn’t, after all, an extremely popular way of going out.
“When I die, I want it to be quietly in my sleep, just like my grandfather,” he would often state, “not screaming in fear like his passengers!”
He wasn’t screaming in fear at the moment, but he wondered how long that would last. Already he felt its cold hand clutching at his chest, building the terror that demanded a vocalized release.
“Of all the gin-joints in this damned city, I had to come into the one that’s frequented by mobsters during a hit,” he whispered through gritted teeth, finally letting a tear drop.
He squeezed his legs in an effort to relax his muscles. The cramps were so severe his legs had gone numb. Falling on his face would do him no good now. His only option was to wait it out and hope someone would eventually walk in and see him.
Ben looked between his legs and into the bowl. The little red light continued to blink. “Booby-trapping a toilet is just wrong on so many levels,” he cried.
[Story (c) Mike Aragona]
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons License.