Monday, 8 December 2014

"I'M GOING TO MISS THIS..." - Flash Fiction

My Flash Fiction accounts are stories of brevity, written in 5 – 15 minutes that follow a plot that invents itself as it progresses. It’s random and hasn’t got a specific conclusion.

We had all retired to separate bedrooms within the huge pub. The rooms were fantastic; amazingly spacious with traditional d├ęcor that maintained its ‘Old English’ theme. Queen-sized beds invited further indulgence and with the whisky providing its natural central heating inside our stomachs, it was a quick fall from consciousness – at least for me.

My dreams attempted to make sense of all the events that had occurred so far.

Escape from The Institute was represented by me sitting in the huge, futuristic science laboratory. There were people around me walking and talking--getting on with work I assumed--but my vision was blurred – not complete blindness, just an irritating fuzz over my sight that meant faces were distorted. I then began to lose teeth. As I rubbed my tongue along the bottom set, one would come loose. Then I would roll my tongue along them again and another would dislodge, slipping from the gums as if they were milk teeth.

The dream then switched scenes and I was underwater, drowning. I knew this was a symbol of not having sufficient time. The panic then transformed as my lungs adjusted and I was able to breathe in the water. This represented my ability to adapt to situations – no matter how arduous.

There was something in all of this though – a strange nostalgia behind it. I was about to lose something precious whether I liked it or not. It could have been the bliss that came with the brainwashing. It could have been the loss of someone, but I was going to miss it. 

Whatever it was, it made me feel slightly uneasy yet at the same time grateful. Appreciative. This needed to happen. It was a motion that had morphed from the realm of choice; ascended even. It had become obligation; duty to my well-being and overcoming The Institution’s unusual game that had wiped my mind of all my memories. Did I have a family? Did I have anyone at all in this world? 

Eden appeared to know me, but also seemed like she wasn't telling me everything. All that had been bestowed was the mission that we were to fly to Spain. Eden said we would find answers there. I was going along for the ride, because frankly, there was nothing else I could do. 

Tuesday, 2 December 2014


Two hours had flown by since my confrontation with Chad.

All three of us had drank heartily - and it had been needed. We were relaxed and joking. The flight to Spain and severity of the situation with The Institute...whatever it was, had evaporated completely.

Chad had turned out to be an alright guy. Not the arsehole he originally came on as, but jovial, a little boisterous perhaps, but an overall entertainer.

" I ask him, 'what weapon would you choose if you were to kill someone?'" said Chad, while attempting to hold back a wave of laughter.

"What did he say?" I asked.

"Get this, he says 'an icicle. A good solid icicle.' Now I know what you're thinking, but--"

"No evidence," I interrupted. "That's pretty clever stuff."

Eden lazily looked at the two bottles of Johnnie Walker Blue Label we had worked through and mumbled. "Why is that clever?"

"The icicle would melt and the water would evaporate," I said. "If timed correctly of course."

"Bit of a morbid subject," Eden grumbled.

Chad and I looked at each other and burst out laughing.

"Why are we talking about this?" Chad said.

"Well it began with fighting talk and moved into the perfect murder," I replied.

"Oh yeah," said Chad. "Well, I'd still win in a fight against you Chris."

"Sure you would Chad," I said, polishing off the remnants of my whisky glass. "I suppose we should get some sleep if we're to head to the airport tomorrow."

Eden groaned.

"Looks like someone went a bit too far," said Chad.

I raised my eye brows as I examined Eden. A few hours earlier and she would have won any global beauty competition...easily. Now, she slouched in a way that twisted her entire form and her eyes rolled uncontrollably.

"And she was so serious about this Institute business...yep, I think it's bedtime," I said.

"It is serious," said Chad with a sternness that changed my entire assessment of the man.

Tuesday, 25 November 2014


The feeling of absolute confidence didn't falter; not an ounce as I continued to stare Chad in the eyes.

The most important aspect of this look, is that it cannot reveal ferocity. It has to be stern and uncompromising, yet calm and passive. It's a game and you are showing how serious you are, but not revealing your full potential.

You let them know that they are most definitely, indisputably weaker than you are, but you keep them guessing, jumping between the possibility that you will hurt them a little, to the concept that you will bury them where they stand.

Chad was the average challenger. He had assumed from my British accent that I was some kind of ponce. He had relished my fear and confusion about The Institute and taken me for a sap, a coward, a child even. 

He had heard no protest from me and very little retaliation to his snide remarks – this was his 'comprehensive' examination. But this kind of person; they’re the weakest of all. Easily overcome if you can see right through the bravado that they use as shield to conceal their immense insecurity.

Chad continued to try and stare this out. I assumed Eden was enjoying this as she did not interrupt. From the side of my eye, I could see her sipping her drink. But you don’t want to think of that. Not now. Not midway. No distraction. Pure focus.

“Look I was just kidding,” said Chad extending his hand, then moving it to pat my shoulder when I didn’t respond. The pat on the shoulder? A show for Eden to make it seem like he was still in power. Still the man - he wasn’t. He knew it. I knew it. Eden possibly knew it. But this single minute would change the tone for the rest of our journey. And hopefully keep him in his place.