This week’s flash fiction comes from my own life experience right at the time. We all face choices each day we live, but sometimes there are more than we can handle. That’s where I found myself lately, but I made it through them and came out on a good side of the results. This is how this week’s blog post came about.
Have a great week.
Let your imagination soar when you read.
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If under Eighteen leave the site, please.
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“Time has run out, son.”
Couldn’t have. The situation arose two days ago. There was no way, anyone, let alone him, could make such a life decision in such a short time span. Why had his life spiraled out of his own control? How had he not known any of this was even possible? What was he to do? The choices sucked no matter what he chose.
“Son . . . I know this isn’t easy on you.”
“How the hell do you know that? You told me you never faced this option. So how do you know.”
Stupid ass man had come to earth chose a woman off the street for the sole purpose of impregnating her and abandoning her to raise his son. She had dropped him off at some fire station, without a name. He’d grown up floating from one foster home to another because he had a deformity. No. Not a deformity, but his natural birth mark Two small bumps, more like stumps, on the top of his head.
“Fine. You have me there, but it does not change the choice at your hand. Nor does it change that your time to make up your mind ran out.”
His biological father sigh irritated him more than the fact that the man had shown up on his twenty-first birthday and told him he was the heir to some underground world and it was time for him to come take his place beside his father.
“Who the hell do you think - -“
“Son, I’m not going to listen to this again. You have your choices. Make it.”
“Go to hell.” That’s where he’d be going if he chose to take his spot beside the man whose sperm created him.
“Is that your choice?”
“No. That was a comment.” He thought. Maybe it had been his choice. Had it been?
“You’ve two minutes. Decide. Join me. Or Join my brother.”
One hell or the other. What did it matter which way he went? He hated choices.