FLASH FICTION CHALLENGE: TEN RANDOM SENTENCES

This blog post was created for Chuck Wendig’s FLASH FICTION CHALLENGE: TEN RANDOM SENTENCES. The idea is to write a story including at least one of ten random sentences. I included se7en of the ten.


board-room


The memory we used to share is no longer coherent.

The old man’s wizened visage looked long at the faces surrounding the table before resuming his speech.

A glittering gem is not enough.

He punctuated his thought by thumping his fist down on the oaken tabletop. Pausing his speech, he made sure to look each and every member present squarely in the eye. Raising his finger, he pointed to the picture hanging above the mantle, then to the stairs at the far end of the room, and then to the ceiling above. With his finger still held high in the air, he continued.

The old apple revels in its authority.

The old man’s words were interrupted by an exasperated sigh. Looking down to the far end of the table, his gaze fell upon the young woman who vocalized her disquiet.

Rock music approaches at high velocity.

With her cheeks flush, the young woman quickly rose to her feet and interjected.

“Oh for the love of… Abstraction is often one floor above you. Obfuscation by way of ornate and convoluted speech does nothing to aid your point. At best, it bores. At worst, it obscures your point. Please drop the idioms and speak plainly.”

A middle aged gent sitting to the old man’s right smirked. With a nod to his elder, he slid in his remark.

“In our hour of discontent, Sixty-Four comes asking for bread. He thinks the big guy has taken the piss and the eye candy is full of empty calories. Clear as crystal.”

The red-faced youth’s stared at the middle aged gent. If her gaze had instead been twin lasers, she would have easily left two smoking holes in the gent’s skull.

However, the young woman was not the only person staring down the middle aged gent. Sitting across from him was an elderly lady. Her lips bore a tight, thin, and lopsided smile; but her eyes glowered with the intensity of an uncontrolled fusion reactor. The venom in her voice was practically palpable when she spoke.

“Fourty-Five and still alive. A voyage most fantastic.”

The middle aged gent shifted and squirmed in his seat as the elderly lady addressed him. Making a sweeping motion toward the far end of the table where the younger members sat, she added.

“The cheese does not stand alone. It takes the village to raise the children. The needs of the many out weigh the needs of the few.”

The middle aged gent’s face now was clearly flushed. Large, round beads of sweat formed on his forehead and his entire face was coated in a oily sheen. Quite abruptly, he stood up. His chair slid back across the hardwood floor with a loud squeal.

“Now look mum-”

The elderly lady cut him off as quickly as a warm knife slides through butter.

“Mum’s the word for most, but not for you. For an upright man, the proof is in the pudding. Now let your mouth cash the check.”

The middle aged gent swallowed hard. His mouth hung half open and his breathing was ragged. His eyes glistened with wetness. When his lips started to move, the elderly lady shook her head. The gent turned to the old man to his left, but the man just looked away.

Slumping his shoulders and hanging his head low, he glanced over at the young woman, still standing at the far end of the table. Closing his eyes, he began to speak.

“The master of our order, Sir G-”

The middle aged gent didn’t get a chance to finish his sentence. A tile on ceiling of the room popped open and a blinding blue beam of light streaked out from it, and struck the gent squarely in the chest. When the stars left the eyes of those present, there was nothing left of the gent, save a pile of ash left in his chair.

The young woman, and many of the other new members, looked on aghast. Standing up and clearing his throat, the old man pulled his silenced handgun out from underneath his suit coat and motioned for those present to do the same. As he started walking towards the stairs, he very quietly whispered over his shoulder.

The shooter says goodbye to his love.


The image in this post was used without seeking permission. I believe its use falls under fair use. If it is yours, and you feel its use is inappropriate; please contact me and let me know.

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