Flash Fiction for the Purposeful Practitioner: Kidnapped


“What is this place?” Alec asked. 

“Oh, um, meeting someone here, is that okay?” Robert said.

“I guess, so man.” Why did you have to meet somewhere so deserted? Alec wondered. He  felt as if he was separated from the entirety of civilization in this empty parking lot. “Why is there a parking lot here anyways?” 

” Oh,” Robert said, he looked nervous and was fidgeting, “there is big concert near here every August. Big Valley Jamboree, have you heard of it? It’s actually quite fun, I’ve been a few times.”

“Oh, yeah?” Alec said. “What kind of music is it? Seems to me this is one of those huge music festivals that goes on for days.” 

“Exactly, man,” Robert  muttered, wringing his hands and rolling his shoulders,” it’s country music. This year I think Carrie Underwood is the big act, last year it was Lady Antebellum . . . oh here’s the guy I’m supposed to meet.” 

A black pickup truck parks haphazardly and a guy with dark sunglasses approuches.He looks at Robert and then at Alec. “This him?” The man asks. Two other men bald and large like bouncers are behind him. Alec begins to back away.

” What do they want with me, Robert?” Alec asks confused. Robert shrugs and smiles, walking away to his red car. The men grab Alec and blindfold him. A rag full of chloroform is put up to his mouth and nose.

When Alec wakes up, he is in a club, his favourite in Las Vegas. He is dressed exceptionally and all his buddies are around him drinking and being loud. 

Robert approaches Alec remorsefully. “Sorry to do that to you buddy, but we wanted it to be a total secret. I really wanted to surprise you. Happy Stag party.” Alec grins.

” You’re a dead man Robert!”

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Writing 101:Day 13 – The Drug House


Prompt: Play with the word count. 

 

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There is a house across the street where the people come back and forth, even at 4:00 a.m. In the day, a black truck sits infront of the house grumbling and rumbling making a horrible noise; the driver probably thinks his truck is cool. It runs forever sitting there, polluting the air.  It could be a house where the rooms are rented out or maybe some couple or family lives there. 

But there are always people arriving, leaving, and smoking. We wonder what else they do in this house. Do they sell drugs there?  Is their clientele the people coming and leaving? It would make sense with all the arrivals and departures, at all times day or night.

 While I wonder, I’m sure that I see a scruffy man on the coach do a line of cocain from a dirty coffee table. In the back people are smoking Marajana, I can smell it, it doesn’t bother me except that in this house it could be a ‘gateway’ drug. I wonder whose life is being ruined by the drugs these people are selling. 

But then again they could just be neighbours and I really haven’t seen anything weird going on; I’m just surmising and imagining the worst. My mind has slid to a place where I’m judging these people and I’m expecting criminal activity. Better shut the curtains.