Chuck Wendig’s Flash Fiction Challenge:
“I want you to write the last 1000 words of a non-existent novel.
In other words: “the ending.”
Now, you can be a bit meta with this — the ending in your mind may be a tidying up, a denouement, or you may instead choose to write a climactic end moment before imaginarily closing the curtains.”
So here goes.
As always,Comments & Criticisms are welcome.
I take another drink. She sits across from me and stares. judging? not judging? who gives a shit?
but then I know the answer to that don’t I? I do. I give a shit, but I’m trying my damndest not to show her that just the sight of her is killing me inside.
she smiles. I give a half smirk and take another drink. she tells me to listen. or says it. can’t tell.
she says she’s not trying to hurt me. I let out a laugh. louder than intended, but whatever.
she says That she explains that she has someone else. she starts that she knows how I feel- I interrupt that feelings are what I have only when there isn’t a bottle of gin nearby. I thought it was a pithy biting remark.
Instead she just looks….sad.
and my heart breaks all over again.
I keep it off my face. never let ’em see you bleed.
I shrug noncommittally as if we’re talking about next years playoffs.
Just another day. not my own personal Armageddon . I briefly consider how nice it would be if Armageddon or Ragnarok or the fucking Apocalypse,did come right now.
Then i realize if it was the Apocalypse, the Rapture would be first. and they’d take her and leave me.
And maybe before the devil comes to shove a plate of burning coals up my ass, he can sit down and we can have a drink.
I bet the devil hasn’t had a decent drink in a while. No liquor for thousands of years. That would make anyone evil.
‘sides, he seems like a tequila kinda guy.
I mention to her that the devil seemed like a tequila guy.
she’s givin’ me that look again. the sad look.
Shit, I’m drunk. She knows why I’m drunk. I know why I’m drunk. yet, I’m too goddamn stupid to admit it. too goddamn bullheaded. I thought we’d had something. fuck it. I was wrong. A guy can be wrong can’t he?
The bottle’s gettin’ empty. She turns her head as I pour another. I always tried not to drink around her. So much for that.
I shrug again and take sip.
She nods to herself, as if my silence confirmed whatever she was thinking.
She gathers up her purse and her coat.
I watch, really watch, ’cause this’ll be the last time I ever see her again. I watch as her hair dances around her shoulders. The way the earrings droop down against her neck. The way she does her best not to look at me.
but she does.
She stands up straight and looks at me one last time.
I smile and give a casual salute.
I’m fucking dying.
Every breath is like sucking in molten lead. My chest wants to cave in. My eyes feel like concrete.
I would give the rest of this bottle for a bullet to my temple right now.
She turns and walks towards the door. She pauses. just for a split second, but she pauses. Then she opens the door and walks out without backward glance.
Like that she’s gone.
He slides into her vacant seat across from me. he’s smoking some sort of clove cigarette and giving me that chilly fucking look.
” the big man’s gonna have fun with your sorry ass.” he sneers.
” yeah, I know.”
He grunts in approval and puts the funky smelling cigarette out in the ash tray.
I look back to him. ” So, your boss, you think he’s a tequila guy?”
” Your boss- He like tequila?”
” the fuck should I know?”
I took another drink.
” I bet he’s a tequila guy.” I said.
He looked at his watch.
“it’s time.” he said.
“I know.” I said.
He stands up and puts a hand on my shoulder.
” She was your one salvation y’know that right, Faust?”
I stare at the empty doorway. “yeah, I know.”