On the clock tower

‘Isn’t that dangerous?’ ‘It’s where the kids sit.’ Jim was showing me around, the first newcomer for over a year. The kids were high on the skeleton of a clock tower. ‘I wouldn’t worry,’ he said. ‘It’s stood like that for years. Since the bomb. Pretty stable.’ There were two up there. Girls or boys, I couldn’t tell. Just squatting. ‘Get a good view?’ He laughed. ‘Sure! Great view.’ Later, I climbed the tower myself. The gravel desert reaching out to the edge of the world. The track snaking away. The sun setting, huge, forlorn and dull through the dust.   © TheSupercargo The above was written for the Friday Fictioneers flash fiction forum curated by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. The prompt: … More…

Hanging on the telephone

I’m in the phone booth across the street. It’s trashed, but I’m hiding here. Calling on my cell. Why can’t we talk again? I’ll keep ringing! Don’t answer – I’ll keep ringing. Switch off the sound – I’ll vibrate in your pocket! But why can’t you answer? Saw your mother just now. She going to work? The store? All those things she said. I told you… Why didn’t you listen? Godsake. Pick up! When I don’t hear your voice things go… wrong. Can’t we talk again? I want to tell you… Sirens. Your mother’s called the cops! I can’t control myself. I’m coming… I just want to show you some… affection. Don’t leave me hanging…     © TheSupercargo The … More…