Flashes of Sanity #172: Forgiving Father

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: Forgiving Father

Enjoy!

“Lousy cretins, that’s what you are.” A bottle flew across the kitchen. It missed the wall and went into the living room. It hit Leo in the head and both crashed onto the carpet.
“Nothing but spoiled brats.”
Leo screamed his pain out into the room. His brothers stood beside him and looked. All except Felix. He was dozed off on the couch.
“What did I say about disturbing me?” Arthur came running into the living room He found the screaming son. He found the bottle. The cork came of. He poured the drink down his throat.
“I told you to never disturb me!”
The kid didn’t stop. Not even when Arthur grabbed the shoulders and shook the boy. He threw Leo back to the floor.
“I know how to silence you, you failed slobs.” Arthur disappeared into the kitchen. When he came back, he had another bottle in his hand.
“It took down that miserable sod of a brother you have. It will do the same with you!”
He pressed the boy’s cheeks together and forced the mouth open. The screams were muffled by the bottle. The blank liquid stopped them completely.
The boy coughed it up, Arthur pushed the bottle further down. “Drink, your miserable prick.”
Arms and legs fought to get free, but a father is always stronger than his sons. “Drink!”
The blankness went down. Arthur threw the bottle away and pressed his hands against the mouth when it all came pouring up. Leo swallowed while looking into the eyes of a father he once thought he loved.
“Now, go,” Arthur said and released Leo. He turned to the seven sons remaining. “Anyone else who wants to test me?”
The seven answered with silence as they watched their little brother stumble to the couch. Leo tripped and hit his head against the table. Not even a whimper left his lips, and the little boy didn’t rise after.
“I thought so,” Arthur turned back to the kitchen. “Now leave your father alone until dinner, okay?”
No son moved until dinner. When he called for them, they only hesitantly moved away from their corner in the shadows.

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Flashes of Sanity #171: Shades of Departure

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: Shades of Departure

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Gary Oliviallo turned back towards the beach. A bartender and a coconut-dancer waved him off. He waved back.
“I will see you soon,” he said.
They laughed back at him.
Right, he thought. I don’t believe it either. The water stretched for as long as he could see. Gary laughed.
“It is in shades!” He shouted.
The wind pushed him on until the grey swallowed his view in all directions. He pulled the ropes and glanced at the compass on his arm. The digital numbers above the compass told him it was dinner time.
He filled up on energy. So far, a pointless precaution. Once he reached outside of the states, he believed it to be necessary.
I hope the change won’t let my soul free. I hope my body will hold together.
The risk was there. It all hang on the wounds his body accumulated. Were they permanent? Or had they healed? The pain had passed at least.
That had to be a good thing, right?
“I don’t know Gray,” he mumbled with food stuffed into his mouth. “But we made it to a spaceship with a whole lot of I don’t knows, so I guess this will go alright too.”
It took him a day before the ship reached the border. He felt it in a chock travelling through his body. A soul keeping the being together reverted into its passive role. Lungs cried. A heart moved slow under bones. Thoughts became slow.
Please. Let. It. Work.
His breathe returned. A heart once dead found its normal beat among the living. The lungs pushed air out his mouth in celebration.
“I made it!”
The blood found its way through empty veins. Every part of Gary’s body stung as the emptiness was forced away. The soul fed the brain with thoughts. The brain took them all in and made them part of the being that died in war. He fell to the deck exhausted from feeding a body need all the energy it could find. He took sugar from the pantry and butter from the fridge. He stuffed himself with it all as fast as he could and felt the energy pushing his body out from the coma.
The man that was Gray returned.
“Do you like it?” He asked his body. “It’s in shades, just like me.”

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Flashes of Sanity #170: Holy Protector

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: Holy Protector

Enjoy!

”These are hard times,” the man said,
”Very hard times,” his friend said.
”You don’t want to end up on the wrong side of the coin.”
Aaron studied the two men. “And you tell me you are on the right side of said coin?”
The two looked at each other. They smiled with intentions. Aaron actually could picture the intentions in his mind from times behind enemy lines. Those were not intentions one wants in a church.
“Yes, we are,” They both said.
Aaron’s grip hardened around the knife under his robe. His other hand prepared to crush two skulls against each other.
How long will it take before they come in larger numbers, he thought. Longer than if I let them live.
“How can I be sure your protection will be what is right for my church?”
The two smiles widened. It would be so easy to open their mouths from bone to bone with lips that stretched.
“You will know once you need it.”
Aaron loosened his grip around the knife.
“Please, come in,” he said and turned around. “Welcome to our sanctuary for those who cannot defend themselves.”
The two crocks followed him inside. Without looking back, Aaron knew they looked around in the large room.
They scan for things to take and places to break in.
“There is no one here,” one of them said. The bald one, Aaron recalled. The voice moved to the left.
“No, not yet.”
“How many do you plan on holding here?” The friend said.
“Hundreds. I keep my money behind the altar, follow me.” Aaron steered left. He intentionally stepped on the trap door.
They are warned.
He turned right. His grip hardened around the knife again.
“This place is perfect,” the bald one said.
“It truly is,” Aaron answered. He put his hand on a pedestal and pushed hard.
Spears grew out from the floor. The trap door opened. The crooks screamed.
“Remove all their clothes,” Aaron said. “Search for any recorder.”
“You will pay!”
Aaron turned. His robe rose from the air and his arm swung forward. The knife slit both throats. Screams turned to gurgle. Aaron punctured the lungs. He dropped the knife and grabbed the jaws. With a hard pull both let go from the bodies.
“No recorder, sir.”
“Thank you, Marshal. Now take them down. Make sure the kids don’t see a thing.”
The trap door closed and left was only blood splatter and two jawbones. Aaron crushed the jawbones with a hammer. The powder, he burned.
“Dear Merciful Lord,” he said. “Forgive me for I have sinned.”

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Flashes of Sanity #169: After party

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: After Party

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Bottles laid everywhere. Some broken. Most just forgotten in the never-ending party. Isa crossed the room unnoticed. The first day, he was scared that someone would see him, but that quickly proved false. The devils were either too drunk or too hangover to care about what they saw.
They had won after all. That was all that mattered.
As usual, a couple had found each other under a table and moaned loudly, but apparently not loud enough to awake the man on the table.
I killed myself for this, Isa thought. To see a bunch of redheads fuck each other’s horns of.
The irony hit him just as hard as the sadness in it all.
I actually killed myself. I did it.
It all felt so empty.
He crisscrossed out the back of the large meeting room. ‘New York’ it was called. It and ‘Los Angeles’ were the most popular rooms to party in. He walked through the hallway, pushing himself towards the wall at the right moment before a devil or some devils crossed his path. The elevator was open, but Isa disliked the risk of getting locked in with the enemy. He took the stairs, always the stairs no matter if he was on floor one or six. The only devils there were too busy fucking to even notice the stairs collapsing on top of them.
The streets closest to the offices were bursting with people but further away they quickly became empty, and at the prison cells there were only occasional guards. To be honest, those were not the for guarding, they were there for revenge.
For being creators with the holy mission of tending to sinners, the devils were dangerously similar to their victims.
When the light went out, we are all animals who fight for survival. Isa echoed the thought in his head as he walked the corridors between the cells. It was as close as home he could get. There was always a cell empty for him to sleep in too. Without his reflection trying to kill him.
Sobs echoed between the walls. The losers in a war. Isa didn’t care for either.
What do I care about? Isa thought. Really?
Sobs came closer, and disappeared behind him.
“Why?” A woman moaned.
Isa glanced into the cell. She was alone on the floor. Shit was everywhere.
“Why?”
Because you weren’t cautious, Isa thought.
“Why did you have to kill them?” She cried. “They were innocent. They were just kids.”
Isa halted. The heart of his soul screamed in pain.
Kids, he thought. They kill kids. Why?
He quickened his steps back to his cell. He sat by the wall.
“Why?” The woman moaned again.
Why? He thought. Kids. Is nothing sacred?

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Flashes of Sanity #168: Conflict of Wat

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: Conflict of War

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It was a comfy chair. The cream of the crop didn’t want anything to disturb the thinking process, I guess, Susanne Queen thought.
“Correct me if I misunderstood,” she said. “We declared war on President Sloptokov to fight Xander Bylix’s cloud monster. Which proved unnecessary as a dragon randomly showed up and destroyed both himself and Bylix. The declaration of war is still active and as we speak, Sloptokov talks to the UN about possible outcomes because our nation has proven to dangerous since the dead began walking.”
“That is correct,” Marge said. “The UN have inquired you the president of the United States to defend our position.”
“Right. What is your take on this conversation?”
“Sloptokov has been searching for reasons to turn everyone against us. As the state of the country is today, he’s got a point.”
“Is there anyway we could convince them to side with us?”
“We must try. I suggest you take the stance that we will clean up the mess and bring this whole country back on track.”
Susanne nodded. She glanced at her desk. Her thoughts puzzled with the dilemma from all possible angles. “What do we have in case Sloptokov gets his will through?”
“Our army is impaired, but we hopefully can get it back on its feet with the rouges.”
The rogue Hunters and Witches of Xander. Not that reliable when Susanne thought of it.
“Our main strategy has been to take the war to the enemy. News reports from around the globe suggests that it would be unwise in our situation.”
Susanne glanced at the muted TV, probably the only TV in the country still working. Just like her communications with the outside world probably was the only working within the country. Criminals outside of the US still died. Within the borders everyone lived.
“No, the troops we send, if anyone would agree to it, would die on the battle field.”
“And the troops Sloptokov sends to us would become immortal,” Marge continued her trail of thought.
Susanne rested her eyes on the TV-screen. A reporter gave the viewers his personal opinions on what could happen. The reporter called it analysis.
“We need to win the UN over. We will press on the fact that the war declaration was enforced and we needed military action fast when our own was down. Do you have a recording of your conversation with Sloptokov?”
“Everything is recorded and backed up, but it will probably take too long to get the recording.”
“Try anyway. Otherwise, we’ll hope the UN trusts us and not Sloptokov.”
“I will see what threads can be pulled.” Marge picked up her phone and tapped the screen with fingers quick as thoughts.
“And Marge, I find it hard to believe Gool didn’t keep track on our country. See if you can find what people he had reporting from the streets.”
“On it.” Marge sank deeper into her phone.
Susanne corrected her dress.
Now, what should I do next?

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Flashes of Sanity #131: Red War

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

Today’s entry: Red War

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The two elves returned to the sleigh. Still laughing.
“Did you get him?” Sam asked.
“No, he got away.”
“So why the blood around your mouth?”
The elves giggled. ”We found another one.”
“Brilliant.” Sam turned to his human passengers in the back of the sleigh. “I will lead these haters into war. Where do you want me to drop you off?”
“Anywhere?” Mart said. He glanced at his co-passengers.
“Anywhere will be good.” Susanne said. The little girl in her arms had been drugged for her own safety. Considering that the two elves still licked blood of their teeth, for her sanity too. “Just leave a couple of elves with us to carry Dina.”
“Anyone who wants to carry a little girl?”
Every elf on the sleigh raised their hand.
“Why are they so eager to take care of a child?” Marge asked. Probably with the blood lickers on her mind.
“Children are like nicotine for them,” Sam said and pointed at two elves with no blood on their mouth. “You and you. Happiness leaks out through a child’s pores and the elves breathe it in. Christmas is built on that reward system.”
“Do you need to rehearse the plan?” He continued.
A choir of nos answered him. He raised his hand, and the sleigh slowed down. Within a minute, they were on the ground. Within another minute, they were back in the air. The little group disappeared into one of the alleys.
Sam smiled.
“It is time, boys and girls!” He raised his arms. “It is war!”
Thousands of arms joined his on the flying sleighs. They all cheered.
“Show man why you once were the most feared people on the earth!”
All the sleighs scattered. And soon screams joined the cheers.
Sam pushed his sleigh forward.
It was time for phase two.

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Flashes of Sanity #130: Doomsday Interview

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

Today’s entry: Doomsday Interview

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The first time was scary. The other too. Now when Bjoern actually gave it a thought, it was always scary to put yourself in the line of fire. Even though the first bullet confirmed your suspicions.
But it brought in the scoops of a lifetime. Which gave connections in governments. Just because so few wanted to risk not being a saint.
He tapped the microphone in his shirt button. The camera was the button below it.
“It is go time.”
The door complained. A fresh breeze of a city at war pushed away the stale indoor air. He kicked the corpse crawling right outside his window.
“Not today, Glenn. Today I am after the bigger fish.”
The corpse fell over and tipped over the dock and into the sea.
“You son of a” Glenn said before the water took jis last words.
The bigger fish was the mysterious Gift box. A man quickly rising in the crime world after the war began. Named after his process of picking his opponents apart and putting them in neat boxes.
Apparently, he was considered quite a nice guy in the underworld.
Shadows wandered across the horizon. Bjoern directed his camera towards them and tapped it from above.
Hope those are your ships, Mr. President, he thought.
They were supposed to meet at a supermarket a mile into the city. Sunny Mart. Or the invite had said ‘where the sun shops’. And sunny Mart was the only shop in town fitting that criterion.
“Recording, September 21. Today I will interview Gift-box. Wish me luck.” He released the microphone and whistled while he walked the road to the city.
“Hey, shit face,” a man said in the distant. “When will you interview me?”
“I already got enough of failures on my tapes, Lars.”
“Fuck you, Bjoern.”
“Is that your official statement.” Bjoern continued to whistle.
The morning sun disappeared as he walked between the buildings. The supermarket was visible now. It was as empty as it always had been.
Broken windows and broken spirits, Bjorne thought.
The sun peaked in between the buildings again. Bjoern stopped his steps.
How come Sunny Mart was in the shadows today?
He looked back at the shadow casters. His hand reached for the camera. Tap.
He tapped again. And again. As the convoy passed above him. His eyes remained wide open, his mouth too.
“What the…”
He turned his fingers around the button to zoom.
“Is that Santa?”
The man in the red cape glared down at him. The face with too many holes to be considered a face grinned. He pointed his fingers in Bjoern’s direction. Two elves peaked over the sledge. They laughed and jumped down to the street.
Bjoern’s camera caught it all. Then he ran.
He stumbled and fell down a sewer. He hit his head. And all went dark.

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Flashes of Sanity #129: Resurrected Father

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

Today’s entry: Resurrected Father

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“Where is Mitch?” Little Leo locked over his shoulder as if the lost brother would miraculously appear behind him
“We don’t know Leo,” Felix said. He swallowed. With what’s showing on the news. That could only mean one thing.
The ten had become nine.
Two fists hammered against the door. Again.
“You lousy rascals, let me in!”
“Please, make him stop.” Dan said. His glasses fell of his left ear and hang across his face.
“Is this how you treat family? Lock them out? Force them to stand outside in the rain? Is that really the Sooly-way I have taught you?”
“Maybe we you should let him in?” Oliver asked.
“Are you thick?” Felix punched Oliver so hard he fell into Greg. In a reaction to the sudden hit Greg spat out all his cereal. Greg stretched for another spoon full of cereal and found comfort in the crunches between his teeth.
“He will kill us!” Felix continued. “Do you want to die?”
“At least then I will meet Mitch.”
Felix’s hand stopped mid air, hovering centimeters from Oliver’s shoulder.
“Yeah, I would like to meet him too.”
“You know what?” The father outside said. “I don’t want to play nice anymore! You will pay for not letting me in. You will pay for not visiting my grave!”
“Do you think he has been drinking?” Adam sad.
“Probably.” Felix sighed. “As immortal he probably is drinking all the time.”
A window shattered in the kitchen. A father’s laughter raged inside the house. His steps created vibrations in the wooden floor.
“Papa, is here for you now!”
“I want to hide,” Leo said. “Why don’t we hide?”
“Don’t you worry,” Felix said. He put his arm around his little brothers. He remembered how Mitch always stood between them and the punches. He swallowed. “You can hide behind me.”
Arthur Sooly stood in front of them. The red eyes popped out of the once dead body.
“You are mine.” He panted. “You are all mine.”
Felix stared straight into the fire. He prepared himself. Behind them the sobs of eight brothers strengthened him.
“Welcome home father,” he said. “I have been waiting for you.”

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Flashes of Sanity #128: Indoor Protection

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

Today’s entry: Indoor Protection

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“There is dangerous world out there ma’am. For a lady like yourself our services can prove crucial.”
The three men outside her door smiled those crocked smiles she always saw on TV. It was the bad guy smile.
“And if I don’t want you protection?” She asked just as her heroes Marta McToomb would. She even got the accent right.
“We will make sure you learn how dangerous the world can be.”
With those words they pushed her away from the door and walked in.
“All we ask for is your sons and daughters for our army and our entertainment.”
“You can’t take my son!”
The men stopped her mouth by pressing a knife against her throat.
“It is our fee, okay? It is a fee you will want to pay.”
What would Marta McToomb do? She thought. How would she save the day?
She would give them what they want just to take them down with a genius plan she came up with on the way to her son.
“He is up stairs.”
“Thank you for your cooperation.” The knife disappeared from her throat. “Show us the way my lady.”
As she walked up the stairs, her brain searched every corner for an idea. She was not an idea-woman like Marta McToomb, she realized. She was a worry-herself-into-an-ulcer-woman.
They came to a bedroom door. Two voices moaned from the inside.
“Harder,” the female moans burst into explosions of ecstasy.
‘Yes,” the man panted.
“Looks like we got the jackpot, boys,” one of the men said and slammed the door open.
The smile on all the men’s faces went away. With mouths open they looked at the middle-aged man on the floor.
“Mom!” The man screamed. “I have told you to not disturb me when I am playing videogames!”
The two dolls in his hands were as naked as dolls can be. Their bodies were entangled.
“Is this a masturbation cave?” One of the three men asked.
“No! I am playing videogames.” The man on the floor looked up at his visitors and the teenage rage ran off his face.
“Really?”
”I mean.” He looked at the turned off computer and TV. Then he looked at his own bulging crotch and the two dolls in his hands. His face reddened.
“Yes,” he said. “This is a masturbation cave.”
One of the three men turned to the woman standing right behind them. Her face was red too.
“You will receive our protection,” he said. He glanced at the overgrown teen. “For free. If you need anything more, just tell us okay. Shit, this was just.”
“Sad,” his two companions filled in.
The three left the house with their mouths still open. They took the rest of the day off.

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Flashes of Sanity #127: Field Work

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

Today’s entry: Field Work

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Donny looked out from behind the wall.
“All clear.” He gestured towards Donna to come.
They entered the highway and searched every car for something and anything that could satisfy their starving group.
“Remind me again why we search abandoned cars for food, when we could go through the supermarkets.” Donna said, in her hand she held a forgotten banana peel that probably had been rotten already when the car was forced to halt.
“Because all the supermarkets already have been raided.” Donny reminded himself for the thousand time this day that she only was a teenager. Nothing more. Just a teenager capable of murder if the rumor was correct. “People raided them probably on hour one, or two if there was an electronic store on the same street.”
“So, we are hoping to survive on candy bars parents hid from their kids.”
“Pretty much.” Donny searched the glove compartment and found a bar and a soda bottle.
“That would be a lot of candy bars in that case.”
“You have no idea,” Donny said and thought of the mountains Brutal Joe and Cat-Scratch Bill usually ate. Them and Bella. The feeling stung in his chest and travelled up his throat in nauseating pulses.
She is dead…
“Wait!” Donna pulled herself out of a passenger seat. “Did you hear that?”
Donny froze and pushed away the nausea. Yes, there were people laughing. Right below them. There were also people screaming.
Donna and Donny sneaked towards the edge of the highway. They looked down at the streets below.
A man laughed again.
“Your money doesn’t matter now.”
Hanging in their feet three men and two women hang in their feet. Their clothes were torn, the women’s much more than the men’s. They were all bleeding.
In front of them a mob laughed while exchanging turns on dealing punches.
“Please,” one of the men sobbed.
“Shut it! I never asked you to speak.” A knife slashed through the man’s shirt and chest. He screamed.
“And you.” The slasher turned to one of the women. “I always wondered what the jugs of yours felt like in the night, maybe I should take one of them with me home and test it out?”
His knife slid in under what was left of her shirt. She didn’t scream, she didn’t cry. Even when the knife pierced her skin, she didn’t move a muscle.
“You should not see this.” Donny took Donna under his arm and forced her face away just as the blood trickled down the woman’s neck and her face.
Donny looked away too.
They probably did something similar to Bella, he thought.
“Should we leave?” Donna sked from his armpit.
“Yes. Yes, we really should get going before they notice us.”
The two sneaked of the high way. Another man screamed.
“Hi,” one attacker said. “Do you like nachos?”
All Donny could think about was his beautiful Bella in blood, and the knives tearing her apart.

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