Welcome to Flashes of Sanity! Your daily dose of flash fiction on 500 words or less.
Today’s entry: Doomsday Interview
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.
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.
Copyright © David B. Johansson 2021