Welcome to Flashes of Sanity! Your daily dose of flash fiction on 500 words or less.
Today’s entry: Playing Cards
Is this your whole hand? Dale Riderstorm watched what was streets full of stores and apartments collapse as the mech-suits entered the battlefield. He counted the cops lining up on the square. Eight. The decoys got out. All of them looked down.
“You brought your son to the battle?” Donald said.
“Yes, as did you.” Sam’s confidence radiated. “Sadly, his contribution was not what you had hoped for.”
“Kyle failed.” Donald didn’t let any reaction leak out to his voice.
Just as we suspected he would. Dale felt a pull on his coat. Carl signaled show time. Dale pulled at Carl’s coat back, and then he pulled Donald’s coat.
The signal traveled across the group.
“Your hat is the ugliest piece of garbage I’ve ever seen,” Carl said. His built up frustration put more force behind the words than was necessary. “Not even the dresses on runway world 1987 was worse.”
“My hat?” Sam gave the man an amused look. “You are losing and you care about a hat?”
“You are winning, and you don’t care about your hat?”
Dale held back a smile. Carl Messinger truly was something else.
“You know what?” Sam walked up the stairs and came up to the same height as Dale and the group. He walked up to Messinger. Dale glanced down.
“When I have finished you and your sad pack I will strip this hat of the red and it will be just the metal crown it once was. But I will have carved your eyes out so you won’t be able to see the magnificence of it.”
“Well, thank you! Like you think a crown would impress me. Do you know how clear it is that you have been buried these years?”
Dale pinched Carl’s finger. He scraped his foot against the ground.
And the signal traveled across the group.
Copyright © David B. Johansson 2021