Welcome to Above Heaven, Below Hell! Previously called Flashes of Sanity. I am changeing the name because it is not flash fiction. It is a whole story with chapters!
Four times a week, a chapter of 500 words or less will be published. Monday, Tuesday, Thursday and Sunday.
Today’s entry: Held Promises
”Do I look like someone who don’t hold my promises?” Donald Diamond put his cup to his mouth with a smile.
”Do you really want me to answer that?” Carl Messinger said and entered the walk in closet. He scanned the jacket’s arms and smelled the fabric. ”How did you get Umeniando suits in all these sizes?”
Carl removed one from the hanger and slid it over his arms. The soft fabric settled on his body. He caressed the shape it formed against his waist.
”When SurgeRay became big, we needed to have extravagant suits for clients who where a little too picky with their sellers. To ensure that we never would need another visit at Umeniando’s store we paid him extra to tailor suits in all shapes and sizes.”
”Umeniando was rumored to be very difficult to work with,” Carl said. His focus was on the arms and the buttons on the sleeve. All buttons shaped like a boar.
”He was, and probably is.”
Donald put down the cup on a table. He inhaled the room. Some secrets, he had hidden well. Storage houses for when times went bad was one of them, and times had gone bad quickly. He walked up to a pantry. Inside was cans of food stapled in a neatly order as one would expect in a bomb shelter. He pushed them to the side a and flipped a switch. A soft click travelled across the wall.
“Will you help me with the cabinet?”
Carl looked up from the hangers where he had found matching trousers to his jacket.
“Don’t you worry, the suits are not going anywhere.”
With one last hesitant stroke across the fabric, Carl left the hangers and all the promises of comfort and style they promised. They put their hands against the cabinet next to the pantry and pushed it, the sliding door whined. Donald caught a glimpse of the wall behind it and smiled.
There you are.
They pushed the cabinet all the way to the corner before catching their breaths.
“What do you have here?” Carl glanced at his suit, and the dust the door had rubbed off on it.
“Carl.” Donald put a hand on the former police officer. “This is promises to all those who have wronged me.”
The rifles glimmered in the lamp light. Not even a particle of dust had fallen on the bottles behind them.
“I will show them what hell feels like,” Donald said.
Copyright © David B. Johansson 2022