The Ambassador

A dialogue-only flash that I hope to incorporate into a later novel.

“Hello, darling.”

“Welcome home, honey.”

“Sir, would you come with me, please?”

“Tracey. . ?”

“It’s okay, Tom. Sven’s . . . A little enthusiastic. I just need a word with my wife.”

“. . . Sounds ominous.”

“Life-changing, not ominous. You know that interview I have tomorrow?”

“Yeahhhh.”

“It’s irrelevant.”

“What? How?”

“Because I start training next week.”

“You’re going to make me drag it out of you, aren’t you?”

“The French Ambassador’s job.”

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The Aliens

Alf sat at the bar, caressing a pint of bitter as he stared into the glass. Every now and again, his ahoulders eaved and his breath escaped in a loud sigh.

Eventually, Jim decided he couldn’t take it anymore and approached his friend, greeting Alf with a back-handed slap on the arm.

“Hey up, mate. Why so glum?”

“They lied to you.” Alf replied, as he looked up and gazed at his friend. His eyes were red-rimmed and swollen, and Jim saw at once that his companion had been crying recently.

“Don’t worry,” Alf continued, “they lied to me, too. They’re lying to all of us.”

Jim frowned as he lay as sympathetic hand on Alf’s arm. “Who’s lying to me, Alfie? Who’s lying to all of us?”

“The aliens.”

Jim raised a sceptical eyebrow. “Aliens?”

Alf nodded. “We’re not real, Jimmy-boy. None of this is. It’s just a game.”

Jim huffed a laugh. “You’ve been watching too many conspiracy documentaries, mate,”

“Oh really?” Alf demanded, turning to face him. “If that’s so, I challenge you to take off your bracelet.”

Jim met the change in posture with one of his own. “What? My mother gave me that bracelet! I’d never take it off!”

“Yeah,” said Alf, turning back to his drink. “We all received these bracelets from our mothers. Funny how they’re all identical.”

“This isn’t a game, Alf. It’s life.”

“Prove it, then. Take the damned bracelet off.”

Jim stared at his friend as though he’d sprouted wings and a tail. “Alright, then. You’re on!” He tugged on the gold band and slipped it off his wrist.

The deceptively simple jewellery item fell on to the floor as its wearer vanished into thin air.

Sven’s Birthday

“Sven, what would you like for your birthday?” Pierre asked, as he hung up the brand new curtains in the living room.

Sven was draped on the couch, more lying with his feet planted on the floor, than actually sitting, while sweat dripped from his forehead and soaked his white tee shirt. He stared in disbelief at his husband.

Are you for real, Pierre?” He demanded of his husband, lifting his head from the back of the couch. “It’s the height of bloody summer! I’m in danger of melting into a pool of sweat here! And you’re talking about my birthday?” He let his head fall back against the fabric. “Way too early!!”

Pierre grinned, much less affected by the heat than his husband.

“It’s August, Sven. Your birthday will be here before you know it, and this time, I refuse to leave it until last minute.” He turned and threaded another of the curtain’s eyelets onto the rail.

“I understand that, Pierre, but my birthday’s not ’til January. At least wait until Autumn We have Christmas to get out of the way first!

“Sourpuss!”

Sven glared at his spouse. “Consider yourself lucky I’m too hot to throw this cushion at you.” He indicated the intended fluffy weapon with a limp arm.

Pierre blew him a kiss. “Yes, you are, Cupcake. Pretty sweaty too though.”

Sven folded his arms and let his eyes slide to the left as he sulked. “Don’t try to sweeten me up when I’m grumpy. . . And I’ve told you before about calling me Cupcake.”

“Okay Gummy-bear. . . Oh! I know!” Pierre clicked his fingers and beamed as an idea occurred to him. “How about a cruise around the Baltic?”

Jake’s Memory Stick

Another, particularly short, dialogue only story.

“It’s got to be around here somewhere!”

I’m not a stranger to the dark. . ,

“What are you looking for?”

Hide away, they say. . .

“I didn’t have it yesterday. Perhaps it’s under this cushion?”

We don’t want your broken parts.

“Have what, Jake?”

“Or did I have it yesterday?”

“We were at Ethyl’s yesterday.”

I’ve learned to be ashamed of all my scars.

“Oh. That’s right, love! We were. Thanks, Ana. . . Maybe it’s in the car, then.”

“What might?!”

Run away, they say. No one’ll love you as you are.

“I can’t remember having it in the car.”

“For the last time, Jake! What on Earth are you looking for?!”

“My memory stick!”

“. . . It’s still in the USB dock, at the front of the computer, you nugget.”

Thanks for reading. Any comments or suggestions welcome. 🙂

Two Brothers (Flash Fiction)

Tim lay on his back in the dark, hand cupping his head as he stared at the ceiling. Downstairs, his parents argued. Again.

Tim sighed, then let his head fall to the right, where his younger brother, Loki slept soundly. Tim was supposed to be sound asleep too, but he’d never been able to sleep when he sensed his parents were just waiting for the boys to go to bed before the latest storm started.

He couldn’t take it anymore. Tim got out of bed and dressed in the dark, aided by the light of the full moon, which streamed through the small, grimy window.

The five-year-old stood and gazed at two-year-old Loki, then twisted to glance behind him to his teddy bear beside his pillow. With bare feet, he tiptoed over the wooden floorboards and reached for his prized possession, then pushed it through the guardrail of Loki’s bed.

“I won’t be needing him anymore, Loki. I’m a big boy now,” he whispered. “You have him.”

Tim paused again at the door and cast a final, fond look at his brother and his teddy. Then, he tiptoed downstairs, pulled on his Paw Patrol shoes, then paused and listened.

“Me or my brother, Grace!”

“Oh, Pete!” sighed Tim’s mother. “It’s not that simple. You know that.”

Tim suppressed a nervous giggle and reached for the handle of the front door. Mummy was so silly. His daddy’s name wasn’t Pete. It was Aiden.

The door was unlocked and swung open easily. Without another glance, the little boy ran out towards the gate.

“Hey there, Mini Me!” said a familiar voice. “What are you doing out here at this time of night? You should be tucked up nice and warm in bed.”

With that, strong arms swept the boy off his feet and positioned him on their shoulders.

“Daddy!” cried Tim, forgetting the argument in the house.

(Thanks for reading. Any feedback or suggestions welcome).

Dialogue Only Flash Fiction

“Sven, shall I tell you a story?”

“No.”

“Sour-puss!”

“Pierre, I’m trying to watch out for the target.”

“Once upon a time-”

Pierre!!!”

“-there was a sour-puss called Sven. . . Oooh! It’s a good job looks can’t kill!”

“Yeah. For you!”

“That’s what I meant.”

“I might be a sour-puss, but you’re the Cheshire Cat.”

“I get the better deal, then, don’t I?”

“You’ll be wearing these binoculars, if you don’t shut up.”

“Darling, you’re the one wearing the binoculars – not me. . . That’s another death-stare.”

“I’m surprised you can even see the look I’m giving you, as it’s so dark!”

“Exactly – so why are you looking through the binoculars for anyway?”

Rustle

“What was tha. . .? Pierre, you’re hurting my arm.”

“I’m a chauffeur – not an agent!”

Rustle, rustle

“There it is again! Ooh, Sven! I’m scared!”

“Shhh!”

“It’s a good job this is only a training exercise, isn’t it? You two would’ve been dead by now.”

“Phew! It’s only Tracey!”

“What do you mean – it was only a training exercise. . . Ma’am?”

“Do you really think we’d leave you two in charge of detecting an enemy? You need more training. Both of you.”

The Cliff

“Liam, don’t be a fool,” said Shauna, as her twin brother raced away from her, down the beach, and towards the cliff face.

Liam ignored her as he drew to a stop and stood, iudging the cliff, shielding his eyes from the glare of the sun.

Liam!”

The fourteen-year-old indicated the imposing, dark grey rock in front of him with his head.

“I could climb it, Shauna. I know I could climb it,” he called as he twisted around to glancd back at his sister.

Just to the left of him, some loose rocks took that moment to fall from their precarious position, high above the teenagers, to the sand beside Liam, and fell with a series of dull thumps.

“It’s not safe, Liam,” Shauna insisted in a last ditch attempt to talk him out of it. “Let’s just turn around and go home.”

An ominous rumble sounded from deep within the rock was followed immediately by a large boulder that started to fall towards his head. Shauna grabbed her brother’s arm and dragged him away in the nick of time.

“See? I told you it’s not safe!” she glared at her brother.

Liams’s eyes were huge as he stared, slack-jawed at the boulder, standing in exactly the same place as he’d been just a moment before. He gulped and nodded, then put an arm around her shoulders.

“You’re right, sis. Let’s just go home.”