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: Dawson
Hugo Dawson knelt by the slurry of bodies. In the mass an eye moved. He caught it and lifted it so it looked straight into his own grey circles.
”Who were you?”
The iris widened just to fall back into a dot in the middle of the globe.
”Stabber?” He continued without letting the tiny dot out of his sight.
”We need shovels, a lot of them. And gasoline.”
The tall man disappeared. The eye vibrated in Dawson’s hand. The pressure became too much and the orb turned into squishy goo. Like the rest of the body.
”Have anyone found anything resembling Mart Adamson yet?”
His troop answered in a choir. None of them had. Dawson put his finger on the mic by his ear.
”We can confirm your suspicions Mrs. President. All of Mart and his troops were immobilized.”
”Thank you Dawson. Do you see any signs of Donald Diamond or his crew?”
”They have fled the premises.”
Stabber returned from a shop down the street. He dropped the shovels on the ground and ran off again.
“Inform me if you find any clues of their whereabouts.”
The line went back to white noise. Dawson tapped the mic again and arose. He grabbed a shovel and joined forces with his team. The bodies became a pile of blood, bones and tissue. Stabber poured the gasoline on it and with the flick of a match the bodies were aflame. A pillar of smoke arose into the sky.
“Do you think it will work?” Stabber asked.
“I don’t think Stabber, I know.” Dawson inhaled the warmth. “We will get our own monster, and when we do, the world will crumble. Little Mrs. President won’t know what hit her.”
“Do you hear that, brothers and sisters?” He continued to the smoke. “The world will crumble at our feet.”
Copyright © David B. Johansson 2022