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: A Gifted Council
”Okay,” Nick said and wandered on and of between the curved walls. “We need something new. Something that makes our dynasty magnificent. Something extraordinary.”
“The red will come.”
Nick facepalmed with a sigh. “Mark, could you sow Tim’s mouth shut before we continue.”
“I could crush his jaw for you if that suits you better?” A muscular man said as he approached from the shadows.
“No, only sowing and don’t pretend you don’t know how to do it. I have seen the mittens you do when no one is watching.”
The muscles grumbled, but a needle magically appeared from his pocket.
“They are beautiful by the way.”
The grumbles stopped. The back got straighter, and shouts of pain from an annoyance turned to mumbles.
“Now.” Nick said from his throne and spread his fingers. “Madeleine as my PR advisor what do you think?”
“We should put out posters with invitation to join you in this war.”
“I like the way you think, Madeleine. The printers are down, though. What about writing with the blood of our enemies?”
The court agreed to the inquiry with exception for Piotr, but he was smart enough to remain silent when threatened to have his mouth sowed shut too.
“Our next point, what should our next target be? We got the city. It is only suitable to go longer.”
“How about going west to the coast,” Blaine, financial shark, said. “They have casinos.”
“No, too small. We need to prove that we are here to remain.”
“Why don’t you go for the presidency then?”
Nick froze in his chair. “That sounds scary.” He tasted the words. “I love it! Bjoern! I knew you would pay off, but this quick. You really are full of surprises.”
Nick snapped his fingers. Two grunts appeared.
“Please, go up and find some enemies for blood. I need you to write ‘Vote for Gift-box’ at every street corner.”
‘But I can’t spell,” one of the men objected.
“Those left can’t read either so everything evens out.” Nick returned to his court. “I feel like celebrating. Mark! Open the bottles in the back, and when you’re at it free Tim’s mouth. We are having a party for the centuries.”
Copyright © David B. Johansson 2022