Wednesday, November 3, 2010

Flash Fic Party, Day 6: Me? ME!

Here's the story that started this whole thing. It's not much to look at (and, like many others, is on the violent side, with vulgar language to boot), but it's the first thing that came out of my head when I decided to try writing a random flash fic out of the blue.

There are no familiar characters, no familiar setting. It's Just Something Different, a short teaser of a scene to give my brain something to focus on for a half hour.

More people have responded than I expected, and it's really exciting to see what they came up with--there are enough fics to post every weekday for another week or so, so drop in and check them out when you get a chance. The comments section is great for letting the guest authors know what you think!

Author: Bika
Word Count: 564


Droplets of sweat mingled with coin-sized spatters of blood on the cracked pavement. More of both ran into her mouth. She tasted something vaguely electric in the flavors of salt and copper, sparking odd memories of summer days spent counting and collecting pennies for candy, of forgetting to wash her hands before peeling the wrappers.

Breathe, goddammit!

Her lungs refused to work.

The gritty asphalt kissed bare skin; her knee stung and her jeans were ruined. She didn’t care. There were other pants.

“Gonna stay down there all night, sweetheart?”

“Fuck you, Carl.” Finally able to draw in a wheezing breath, she spat, hoping to get rid of the lingering rancid-metal taste. Wobbly, winded, Bonnie rose to her feet.

The evening air was fresh and sweet to her starved lungs. There was no hint of the baked-garbage smell that late summer usually brought to the borough, just cool, wonderful air.

“Such language. Are you ready to cooperate or do you need more encouragement?”

Carl’s tone was warm, companionable and friendly. Concerned, even. But she know better, that wasn’t what Carl meant, and while it might not do her any good to know it, that was his you’re on my shitlist, fuckface voice.

“I don’t need any encouragement from the likes of you.”

“Is that a no, then, darlin’?”

“Save the pet names for your sister, fatass.” She flashed him the brightest smile she could manage. It hurt like hell. Her split lip reopened and a fresh trickle of blood ran down her chin. At least three of her teeth felt loose in their sockets.

Saints be fucked, he actually looked hurt.

“Now now, love, swagger doesn’t suit you. Mayhap it looks good on the boys down Lorimer, but comin’ from you it’s just tacky.”

“Tacky. Tacky like lawn flamingos, or tacky like grown men hittin’ girls half their size?”

He shoved her shoulder-first against the alley bricks, hard enough to peel skin from her upper arm, and used his considerable weight to hold her there. She laughed, and he pushed. Her impudent laughter rose into a shrill cry of pain, and he looked into her madwoman’s face with his cheeks burning a dull crimson.

All the tough talk and posturing in the world couldn’t cover the blood-smeared tear-tracks and streaming eyes that met his own, refusing to break.

“You need help, Bonnie.”

She spat in his face with a simultaneous cackle and sob. “You’re a bully, just like Ted. Fuck you, and your mother, too.”

“I’m taking you home,” he said, twisting her arms behind her back and holding them there, tightly, with both of his hot, meaty hands. The shining gob of spit under his left eye, that was real. She knew for sure that was real. “To your mother.”

“NO.” Her stomach flopped. She was horizontal, the ground cold and slick beneath her, mint-green tile reflecting florescent light. She howled.

The tile was real. The tile was always real.


Carl’s face was a wreck. His lower lip was split and bleeding and his jaw was swelling rapidly. Bonnie raised her broken hand to strike out in protest but was pinned under Carl and both of the pink-suit orderlies; the needle went in, the fight went out of her like piss down her legs, her pants ruined again, real, not-real.

“Teddy, please don’t tell mama.”

She closed her eyes and slept.


  1. That was an awesome read. I loved the descriptive and colorful wording for...well, pretty much the whole thing.

  2. Good, if kind of gut-wrenching once you realize what's really going on.

  3. Thanks guys :)

    Poor Bonnie indeed.