One of my fellow writers alerted me to the above challenge/competition, full details of which can be found on the following link http://www.nycmidnight.com/Competitions/FFC/Challenge.htm in a nutshell you are given a genre, location and object and thereafter you have 48 hours (yes only 48 hours) to write a flash fiction of no more than 1000 words. Everybody gets two challenges and the best progress through the remainder of the year. This all kicks off on the 22nd July and I am still undecided whether to enter as it is not a small fee (55US Dollars) however there are many cash prizes to be had and I do love a challenge! I thought I would give it a trial run and asked my daughter to give me a genre, location and object. She came up with horror (genre), cove (location) and spoon (object).
LUCKY CHARM
The boys huddled around the injured animal which lay whimpering at the feet of Sam. A look of warped triumph contorted Sam’s handsome features. Ben, Tim, Ralph and Rory looked on with apprehension at what Sam would do next. The rough bloodied rock was still clenched firmly in Sam’s fist and he delivered the final, fatal blow with purpose.
The boys, rather than digest the dead rabbit, all stared at Sam. Ben and Rory in awe, Ralph with disgust and Tim looked as though he may faint. Sam carelessly cast the rock aside and reached inside his sheath for his hunting knife. With swift accurate strokes he dismembered the rabbit’s feet and handed one to each of his friends, who took them without question.
“Tis lucky those boys, keep them close, keep them safe” he insisted.
“Didn’t bring the rabbit much luck” muttered Ralph.
Sam slit the rabbit from throat to genitals and Tim gasped in an attempt to smother his cry. Sam looked up at him menacingly. “What’s the matter fat boy? You gonna piss your pants again?”
Ben and Rory sniggered, whilst Ralph leapt to his defence.
“Leave it out Sam, we’re all mates here”.
Sam stared at Ralph and held his gaze, without turning away he said to Ralph’s younger brother “hey Rory, pass me that spoon out of your tin.” All the boys carried identical tins which the home provided before they were kicked out of the door at sunrise. Rory rushed to adhere to his beloved Sam’s wishes.
“There you go Sam. Watcha gonna do with it?”
“There you go Sam. Watcha gonna do with it?”
Without answering Sam turned back to his prey and with both hands pulled the rabbit skin apart. Blood splattered and tainted the warm air. He glanced at his audience, before using the spoon to shamelessly scoop out the insides of the dead animal. It was too much for Tim, the contents of his butty tin together with last night's supper projected uncontrollably from the pit of his stomach, all over the bloodied remains, all over Sam.
“You fucking idiot” Sam spat and without warning lunged for Tim, knife still in hand. Ben and Ralph quickly wrestled the knife from Sam and pulled him off, whereupon Tim took to his feet and shot off, faster than his voluminous body should allow. Sam knocked Ben and Ralph out of his way and hurtled after him.
“Jesus Christ” stated Ben.
“He’s a fucking lunatic” Ralph responded.
“What do you think he will do if he catches him” asked Rory.
Ralph looked at Rory and winked “I still have this” he said holding up the knife “so hopefully nothing too ruthless. Come on let's go and find them.”
The three boys stumbled across the steep sandy banks down to the cove which was situated on the other side of the bay. It was a scorching summer day and they seemed to walk miles, their clothes drenched in sweat and clinging tirelessly. They did not see Sam nor Tim on their journey and before long they tired of calling out for them.
Rory started to jump perilously on the precariously sharp cliff face. “There he is, there he is” Rory cried.
The boys turned simultaneously and followed the direction of Rory’s pointed finger. They all recognised the rounded shape of Tim who was sitting, head in hands, on a grey rock close to the shoreline. They made their way down to the cove and as they approached, Tim jumped up triumphantly. “There you are, I have been looking for an age” he declared.
“Where the hell have you been Tim, and where is Sam?” questioned Ben.
“I outran him is what I did, can you believe it, not such a slow fat kid after all am I?” said Tim.
Rory laughed “if I were you mate I would keep on running, he was as mad as hell and he knows where to find us.”
“I will buy him some fags, that’ll do it” giggled Tim.
“What the hell is that?” Rory exclaimed.
They all turned to see what Rory was looking at and realised that the rock they thought Tim was sat on was a beached whale. “I found it” Tim stated proudly.
“Is it dead?”
“Yes it is definitely dead Rory, I checked” replied Tim.
“Poor bugger” sympathised Ben “what shall we do with it?”
“We could try and get it back into the sea” offered Ralph.
“Not a chance, it will weigh a ton! Let’s just leave it be” said Tim.
Ben raised his eyes “I know what we can do, I once heard that a whale was opened up and precious stones were found inside, oyster pearls or something like that, worth thousands”.
“Oh god no, haven’t we carved up enough animals today” groaned Tim.
“Let’s do it Ralph, please, come on, if Sam was here he would do it in a heartbeat” pleaded Rory.
Ralph hated his younger brother’s approbation of Sam and he could feel his hackles rising. “Sam wouldn’t do it Rory, beast is already dead, no torture, no fun”
“Oh I think he would” Ben responded “he is probably watching us all now, wondering who is man enough to slice open this beast. Come on Ralph, you have the knife, open him up. Make us rich”.
Ralph looked at three pairs of eager eyes expectantly awaiting his compliance and for the first time he saw pride and admiration in the eyes of his brother.
Ralph turned, leant over the creature and slowly inserted the knife into the cold grey skin. Ralph was surprised how easily the knife penetrated the dead whale and he easily severed the beast open. He stood back as the contents of the whale spewed out onto the baked sand.
All four boys stood open mouthed as they gazed with horror into the dead eyes of Sam, well the top half of Sam, detached from the waist down, still holding onto the spoon, and just like that, Tim threw up again.
The End
