Flashes of Sanity #107: Urgent Matters

Welcome to Flashes of Sanity! Your daily dose of flash fiction on 500 words or less.

Today’s entry: Urgent Matters


This was the president’s quarters. A very few were allowed to enter. Yet, here Marge stood. She balanced on her high heels.
The president was just elected a week ago, she thought. This is a disaster.
“Now be quite Mr. Narson. This is for your own good.”
The man sitting behind the desk the president usually welcomed his guests from peeled the nail of his finger with a knife. He didn’t even flinch.
“Please don’t kill me,” the president pleaded again.
“Kill you?” The man’s face became long as he looked at the president. “Do you really think I can kill you?”
One of the men holding the president in place leaned forward and jerked the nail holding the body up.
The president screamed.
“I have been to hell,” the man behind the desk said. “And I came back. Every one who ended up there has come back in one way or another. And none of us can return. You know the funny thing I have noticed. Hell was riddled with people like you Mr. Narson, and they are all stuck here nowadays.”
The chair suddenly got empty. And the man stood by his prisoner. “That makes me believe you too cannot die.”
He shoved the knife into the president’s chest. Then he pulled it out and stabbed the president in the gut.
The president screamed through it all.
But he never died.
“And you…”
Marge took a step back as all attention suddenly fell on her.
“I have heard so many things about you Marge Umington. The woman who pulls the levers. The queen of our entire nation. You are the one we really should pin to the wall. That should paralyze this country.”
“Why don’t you do it then?” Marge felt her heart run amok. It took all her willpower just to keep her breathing in place.
“That is quite simple actually.” The man let go of the bleeding president. “I want you to create chaos. And I know you will. I want you to start a war. After all, your country is in danger. Crooks have taken over. And we are not stepping back without a fight.”
The man’s breath hit Marge’s face. His knife tugged at her blouse. A button snapped under it.
“Run before I change my mind.”
Marge fell. The man laughed. With his peeled hand he grabbed her by the throat and threw her out of the office. It hurt like hell.
But she never died.
“Run my little queen,” he cried. “Your country demands it.”
Marge took to her feet with the man laughing in her tracks. She picked up her phone. A secret button on the back tapped three times and the phone rang a number.
“They don’t dare threaten me,” she said.

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Copyright © David B. Johansson 2021

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