I’ve been pretty much ‘phoning-it-in’ for my Daily blog post for a several days now, mainly because NaNo has been sucking up most of my time. So to both liven things up and to give my brain a little break from NaNoWriMo, today’s post is going to be a bit of random flash fiction.
Using the titular structure of ‘The ‘X’ and the ‘Y’, I headed to my trusty random word generator and generated two random words. Now I’ve just got the flash fiction itself…
Here you go…
Flash Fiction: The Panther and the Ivy
Sierra kicked open the door to the shack. The door flew open and slammed on the wall behind it; the light bouncing off the dust that gently floated in the darkened doorway. He hadn’t been here in a while, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have guests.
He gripped hard on the metal pipe in his left hand holding it behind his head, readying it for attack, while the other hand reached inside the door and felt for the light switch.
The air was filled with a humming noise as the overhead lights pinged on one at a time. The room was dusty and hadn’t been disturbed for a long time. A couple of cupboards rested on the walls, a metal bed-frame with nothing more than an old stained mattress sat on it, littered one of the corners of the room and an old fridge rested in another.
The sun was starting to burn his naked back, but he couldn’t enter until he knew it was safe. So he stood there listening .
After a minute or so he realised that nobody was in there, and that he may be safe at least for a little while, but he kept the metal pipe raised, just incase.
They had tracked him down, and murdered his family. They had shot his wife and his daughter right in front of him. If his dog, Reaper hadn’t jumped on them, he would be dead as well. Of course Reaper was another in a long line of deaths he needed to payback. He needed time though, he was wearing only a pair of shorts and his only weapon was the metal pipe.
They didn’t know about this place. It was his old shack when he used to hunt for a living. Usually he would hunt animals but he had been known to hunt criminals and when times were hard, people who had made enemies of the wrong person. He used to be known as The Panther. He was quick, silent and lethal and no-one had ever escaped from him.
That was before he met Sadie, his wife. When he was with her, she calmed and soothed him until he could no longer kill; until he no longer wanted to. She turned him into a loving father and husband but Sadie was gone now and he had to put that life behind him. There wasn’t any room for the loving husband, he had to be the killer again. He had to survive to kill those responsible for their deaths.
He stepped fully through the door and looked outside to check nobody was following him. When he was sure, he swung the door closed. Now he was inside away from the harsh sun, Sierra shivered. The first thing he needed was some clothes. He always kept a spare-set in here. Opening one of the cupboards, he saw a pile of his clothes. He put on the jeans, boots and an old shirt and his mind was filled with nostalgia. It was if just wearing the clothes of his past, turned back the clocks. He had changed a lot since those times, his fatherly waistline struggled against the tight-fitting clothes.
‘I have to lose some weight’ he thought to himself and as if to answer him his stomach rumbled. He hadn’t eaten since this morning, and that was before all the shit went down.
Sierra walked across the room and began to open the fridge, realising when the door was only slightly open and when the light didn’t come on that the fridge was broken and even if not, he hadn’t been here for years so there was no chance of anything edible being in there. Sierra slammed the door.
‘Huh.’ grunted Sierra his voice breaking slightly from the dust in his throat ‘Maybe just something to drink then.’ He opened a cupboard, the door only just hanging on by its lone hinge. Sat upon the shelf was a single bottle of whiskey, he had opened it but it was only short a swig or two. He picked up the bottle, pulled the cork out with his teeth and drank.
Whisky was another of those vices he had given up for Sadie, it gave him the type of courage he hadn’t needed when he was with her, but as he drank, more and more of his old life flashed in his mind.
Then he noticed them. There were other fingerprints in the dust on the bottle. Were they his? No. He hadn’t moved his hand since he picked up the bottle.
Almost in answer, the bottle began to blur and his head started to become heavy.
‘The Panther I knew would never have allowed himself to be so easily captured.’ Said a female voice from the door way.
Sierra turned to face the voice; the movement sending him stumbling dizzily to the floor. He tried to stand up but the drug had already weakened him too much.
Through his blurred vision, Sierra saw the blonde woman walk towards him. Even with blurred vision he knew she was very attractive by the way she walked, with a cat-like elegance. She knelt next to his face that was resting on the dirty floor, his body becoming numb.
‘Don’t worry sweetie’ she said ‘we’re not going to hurt you… yet.’
Wrapped around her leg reaching up past her thigh was a tattoo of a vine, it snaked around her leg and disappeared into the clunky pair of leather boots she was wearing.
‘Who the hell are you?’ Sierra asked laying on the floor locked in a contorted position.
‘Don’t worry about.’ The girl said while running a smooth tanned hand over his face ‘There’s plenty of time for introductions later.’
Sierra didn’t know who this girl was or why she was so keen on keeping him alive, but he didn’t have much chance to think about it before the paralysis reached his face. His expression remained a confused stare, and his eyes slowly closed.