Category: Flash Fiction

Jack had picked up Dimitri, as the CIA told him. He needed to get exfiltrated as soon as possible, the message was, because his cover had blown. Therefore, Jack and him had to leave country by the least suspicious method known to man, a hovercraft across the tundra, towards the icy polar sea where a submarine would await them.

Dimitri pulled out his vodka, offering some to Jack who politely refused, he probably should remain sober on a journey this dangerous. Dimitri shrugged and downed it all. He probably was done for the day.

Jack was very surprised to find Dimitri keep his cover even when drunk, chanting “death to the capitalists” and like a good commie would do. He asked Dimitri if he maybe could stop that, now that the submarine was in sight, what would the commanders think, when Dimitri slurred something about a being a double-triple-quadruple agent. And indeed, shortly before they reached the submarine, a missile from an Ekranoplan destroyed it, shortly followed by a space laser destroying the Ekranoplan, shortly followed by Hitler in a UFO destroying the space laser.

The Nazis had won after all, Jack thought just before he froze to death.

He didn’t get woken up by cars, usually rolling quickly through the cobbled street. He didn’t get woken up by birds, the geese, the seagulls, none of them had said anything. Neither had the helicopters, the sirens, usually passing by frequently, reminding him that the world was not okay. What happened? Was it him? Or was it the world?

He chose to believe the former, and started going to his home office. It had to be, for the latter would be too devastating to be true.

The silent crowd was cheering her on. No matter what she did. No matter if she wanted it. They’d always write the same sort of overly supportive messages. Why? She hadn’t done anything special. Were they being sincere? How could they praise her even if she intentionally messed things up? Or did they just do it for attention, out of a mis-guided feeling, confusing cheering, an inherently one-way action, with love?

Whatever the reason, it probably was best for her to play along, while always being highly cautious. Just in case they thought they were entitled to anything. Entitled men were just too dangerous.

Mortred thought the city was strange the moment she came into it. There were no trees around for miles, no animals, only a few grey birds. The buildings were boxy and tall, but did not appear to have a roof. But man, were there a lot of people. Every window of every building had one, if not more, and she had to find the right person, and kill him.

The person was male, it said. More than half of the people she saw were.
The person was tall, it said. Quite a few people less were tall, but still a lot.
The person was wearing a suit, it said. Everyone was wearing a suit here.

The list went on for a bit, but each detail seemed to fit on way too many people, and even if she knew who it was, it would be way more difficult to find him than usual; usually, the location alone would be reducing the number of targets to a few dozen.

A scream was there, somewhere from below. Someone must have found the corpse, or at least half, of the important looking man who asked her to show a permission for her two swords.

She almost gave up on her hunt when something in her mind started highlighting something. Of course, the Oracle knew best who she had to kill. And of course, the target was sitting in the highest building in the highest floor. Which she had to climb up on.

Or just continue waiting, until he’d come down.

The city was strange from the moment she entered it. But the many lights in the city made her wait worthwhile.

It was a regular and warm Friday evening. The insects were doing their noises, the frogs were ribitting, the ducks were quacking, and overall, it was nice. Until I noticed a little frog instrument sitting on the wayside. The idea with these things is simple, you just rub a piece of wood onto it and it makes a noise not too unlike a frog. And with all these things making noise, I thought I may just join in with my newfound voice.

The frog instrument was loud. Like a shockwave, it sent the entire lake into silence. Then, a single ribbit. I answered, with a more careful stroke of the instrument. Suddenly, the entire lake started boiling with frogs coming towards me. I ran away, but the frogs came from all sides. I ran and ran, and just as the frog-flood was about to catch up, I finally was in my apartment and closed the door. But the worst was yet to come.

Deafening croaking from all sides. Little eyes reflecting through the windows. The frogs stacked up higher and higher, with the lowest layers of frogs turning into sludge. Soon, I’d be trapped in here for good.

Frogs started to pour in through the toilet and sinks, a window shattered, the bedroom was lost. I climbed up on the balcony, worked up my courage and jumped right in, or rather, on, the frog pile. The slippery bastards gave way, but only to some extend. I slid down the pile like a water slide, and ended up on the street, only to be covered by frogs again.

There only was time for one last prayer.

Suddenly, the croaking ended, and the frogs were gone. What had I done?

“Ah, here it is”, said Jesus. “Dad thought he’d lost it in Egypt a long time ago”.

— Slowly, slowly! don’t rush me, the first thief said. He was currently working on decoding the lock to the safe.
— The shift of the next guard starts in 3 minutes. You’ll have to hurry if we want to do this!
— You telling me that there isn’t much time left isn’t gonna make it easier to crack this safe.
— Stop defending yourself! I just wanted to give you a time frame.
— I don’t care about the time frame, it’s not going to pick itself faster magically just because we have very little time left!
— Well, alright, then I’ll say nothing anymore.
— Good. Now let me continue.

The thief started focussing his attention towards the lock again. But he hadn’t really started again when his friend started bugging him again.

— Frank, there is…
— … not much time left, I know! Can’t you shut up about that for a god damned second?
— That’s not what I wanted to say, there is…
— … a guard coming, said the guard, who just came in.

— Come on, bring my boat to the ocean, said Dabchick, pointing at the former can of tuna, that had a hole cut out for him
— What, why? it’s in the middle of winter, you’ll catch a cold, I replied
— That is precisely why you should bring me there. We will explore the new found third pole of earth. Right here, right now, else we won’t be the first to explore it and get famous!
— What would you do with this fame?
— Name it the Dabchick pole, obviously!
— Alright, Dabchick, go ahead, but don’t expect me to get into the cold water with you.
— Doesn’t matter. You could’ve brought your own boat. Let’s go!

A while later, I was standing at the village lake, Dabchick in one hand, his boat in the other. The other side, which was perpetually shielded from the sun due to the many big trees around it, was somewhat frozen.

— Let me down! I can go explore the rest of this pole by myself.
— Have you prepared a speech before you venture into the unknown?
— No, but you can come up with something before I return. If I return, that is.
— You don’t expect to drown in this lake, do you?
— I fear not death, I fear not the cold! Long live the regime!, Dabchick cried out, waddling towards the shore, and then stopped.
— What is it, Dabchick?
— What is it, he asks. Very funny. Ruining another grand moment. If they had sent you on the moon, the first thing earth would’ve heard was you farting while climbing down the ladder!
— Good thing they didn’t send me to the moon then. So?
— So? Give me my damn boat before I process you to fish food!

And there he went, thinking about his glorious return when earth would no doubt bow for him and name him the finest explorer.

Some kids came by and saw Dabchick struggling to sail his boat across the centimetre-high waves. He was almost 5 meters in to his long journey. The kids started skipping stones, not for fun, but to hit Dabchick.

— The enemy is engaging, Dabchick screamed, — open fire!
— I’m not going to punch children for you, Dabchick.
— Then take them hosta – – – at this moment, a stone hit and promptly sank the boat.
— SAAAVE ME!

I told the kids to stop throwing rocks and went into the water. It was hip-deep by the time I reached Dabchick. Dabchick gasped after air, clinging onto the can that was now barely swimming, and then finally jumped onto me.

— Let’s go home, I said.
— That’s probably for the best.

Peter heard a cry. It almost sounded like a woman, but.. weird. “Shall we check it out”, he asked Luke, “we might save someone’s life”.
Luke answered that there was no way that there were others this far out in the woods, and that they probably weren’t able to help anyways. Besides, they shouldn’t lose the path they took so long to get to.

Peter couldn’t handle the thought of someone else dying and not even attempting to help, so he went on alone. He thought he was getting closer to the cries, but whenever he reached a point where he thought the origin to be, the cries already had moved on to another place. Maybe it was someone screaming and walking?

Peter went and went, until he finally saw a little shack. In the shack was nobody, but there was a warning to not wander out alone, no matter what – wild beasts might attack, and there was no help in sight.

Peter was torn between going on and waiting for Luke. It was getting dark, and the cries seemed to have stopped, so he decided to message Luke with the walkie-talkie that he found a good place to rest for the night. Luke agreed to come, Peter only needed to signal the light.

Peter waited. He radioed Luke some more times in between, until Luke told him that his battery was getting low and he should only use it in an emergency. After what felt like hours, he heard another cry, clearly from a man this time, shortly joined by the woman’s cry form earlier. Peter worried about Luke, and because Luke didn’t respond by radio, Peter ventured out again to get him. He went on a hill and quickly saw a light source moving. He ran down to it, only humans can operate flashlights after all, but when he arrived, he only saw the remains of Luke. Eaten, by a mountain lion.

A mountain lion, which now looked at him and cried, almost like a woman, but… weird.