Flash Fiction: The Mailbox

The death march to bataan otherwise known as the walk to my mailbox. It stares at me when I leave in the morning and when I return at night. I try to put it off for as long as I can but after a week, I get home and envelopes are sticking out every which way. Today I decide to wait until I get home. There’s enough fear and loathing in that God forsaken grey world of XXXX customer service department. Sorry, I’d probably get sued mentioning their name. “You better watch your ass Bob, this economy is bad and you don’t want to lose your job for being late do you?” Simon my “supervisor” then laughed heartily and slapped me on my back with his red, plumb, damp hands. I think I was about three and a half minutes late and that was because some idiot decided to run into a brick wall embankment and held me up over 2 hours in Atlanta traffic. I hope his head fell off. I usually leave the house hoping for only an hour traffic and I go have breakfast, relax before I have to deal with those “wonderful” customers. But here I am giving the evil eye to the unassuming wood and metal object. The wife’s home with little Will, my pride and joy. I think they are inside watching the sprout channel or something along those lines. I really don’t know anymore. All I do is sit up at night wondering how much longer we have here. I swallow the bile that had started to rise up in my throat,...

#friday flash : Coming Home

The Bus pulled up to the Greyhound station at one twenty two in the morning. Betty his wife was standing in the corner of the station huddled in the red and white bomber jacket he gave her two years before. He’d been waiting for this moment for so long, it seemed unreal that it was actually here. Stepping down the stairs of the bus, he inhaled deeply. The familiar smells of home filled him with comfort, safety. The small town he’d grown up in was still the same. Everyone and everything around him was still the same. He put the smile he felt, on his face and walked to his beloved Betty. When Betty saw Robert, she couldn’t contain herself. On the way to the greyhound station, she told herself she wouldn’t cause a scene. She would wait until they got home before she jumped all over him. She would wait until they were behind closed doors to show him how much she missed him. Those things should be done in private after all. All of her planning went out the window when she saw Robert. His day old beard cast a shadow on his slim face. His dark brown eyes, as bright as she’d always remembered them. The dimples that marked only his left cheek greeted her and that did it. She hauled her five foot five frame at her husband. Dodging the few patrons that lingered around the station, not caring if anyone saw or felt her excitement. She reached Robert and threw herself into his arms and held on for dear life. Her eyes closed instinctively...

#fridayflash Building Blocks

A knock sounded at the door. “Thomas?…Are you okay in there?” It had been over forty five minutes since Thomas locked himself in the hall bathroom. “I’ll be out in a minute Mom.” The ever caring Judith, thought Thomas. Always worrying about her baby boy. Although he was twenty eight, Judith never missed a chance to let Thomas know how much she loved him and how much he means to her. Every second he thought about what he was about to do, made his stomach tighten and his head spin. He looked at himself in the bathroom mirror and started to feel the pink walls closing in on him. Immediately, he turned on the faucet and flashed a handful of ice cold water on his face. Thomas knew a panic attack was coming, and he needed to stop it before he lost his nerve. He sat on the side of the tub and started to arm himself. The self discipline he gained when he succeeded in losing the sixty three pounds he put on after high school, he placed in his right back pocket to push him along. One step at a time. The courage he learned he possessed after he fought with his best friend against three bear sized bullies in 10th grade instead of running and hiding, he placed in his right front pocket. The loyalty he showed when he didn’t go away to college like all of his friends, but stayed at home, and found a job to help support his family because they needed it, he placed in his left back pocket. The honor he...

#fridayflash Oh What A Nightmare

Mark knew he was dreaming, but he couldn’t wake up. Cold air surrounded Mark as he walked, hunched in his raincoat traveling north on 3rd Avenue. He passed restaurants, clothing stores, a dry cleaner and a shoe repair shop all closed up for the night. Mark was alone. No one else traveled 3rd Avenue at this time of the night. He wasn’t afraid of being alone. He rather liked it. He didn’t have any responsibility to anyone else. No wife, or kids or dependents. He didn’t even have a pet. There was no one he had to take care of, and no one to take care of him. The moon followed directly above shining full and bright. He walked these streets every night, it was familiar. He could navigate it with his eyes closed. Tonight was different. The air felt heavy and Mark could swear he heard his name being called as the wind blew. Then he heard it coming from behind him, footsteps. Mark looked around as he walked, listening through the sounds of HVAC systems humming and cars a few blocks away, to the sound of unseen footsteps. It started as prickles at the back of his neck, then it made its way down Marks back to his feet. Fear. The sound and pace of the unseen footsteps sped up with the beat of his heart. Mark walked faster, the footsteps followed faster. Smoke rose up from underground cellars, limiting Marks vision. Marks breath quickened and he started to sweat. He was almost home. He only came out to call his mother from the pay phone to...