Hope all had an amazing week. Mine was great. Got little writing done, but I did finish the cover for the next book. It will be released soon. When I have a date I will post it. For now, I’m going to focus on this Flash Fiction.
Hope you enjoy.
Remember let your imagination soar when you read.
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If under 18 please leave the site.
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Bright red and blue lights flashes. Yellow crime tape stretched around my apartment building, or what was left of it. There was a huge whole in the front and dust covered bricks and water spewed from torn pipes. I’d closed my eyes four or five times, hoping that each time I opened them everything would be back in its correct place.
“Sir, Sir,” fingers snapped in front of me. “You can’t be here.”
Why couldn’t? It was my home. I had not where else to go. No family. No friends. No clothes. No textbooks. I’d only been gone for fifteen minutes. Long enough to walk to the store and grab some milk.
“Sir, did you hear me?”
I opened my mouth to . . . the world faded to black.
“He’s coming around.” Some rich deep toned voice floated though my mind. It soothed me and allowed me to forget what had happened for a few minutes. The man talked to some woman, explaining that he’d came to remove him from the crime scene and he’d collapsed. Landed in his arms.
“Why is he in your police cruiser?” The woman asked.
“Where else was I to put him?”
He could have taken me too his home. Could have offered me some kind of reason for the huge hole in my apartment building. Explained what I was supposed to do next. I had only a few pennies to my name after buying my milk, and my checking account had less than five dollars in it.
“Shit.” I groaned and pushed up into a semi-sitting position.
“Hey there.” The rich deep tone man said.
“I know that.” I waved my hands at the trashed building. “That.”
“Oh . . . I’m afraid I can’t say.”
“What?” Why not? He lived there. He had the right to know. Didn’t he? “That’s my home.”
“Oh.” The man ran a hand down his face. “I’m sorry, but . . .”
“I know. You can’t tell me anything.”
“What’s your name?” The woman asked and pulled a small notebook from her pocket.
“I can give you the name of the hotel that is holding rooms for the residence of this place.” The woman scribbled something and handed it to me.
I looked down and bit back the groan. There was no way I could afford such a nice hotel. I couldn’t even afford a dump one.
“Guess I’ll be going.” I stood and used the door to balance myself. “Sorry I passed out on you.”
“Understandable.” The rich deep tone man. “Sight to come home to.”
He could say that a thousand times and it would do little to ease me.
“Thanks.” He shoved the paper into his back pocket and walked towards the yellow tape, ducked under it and looked up and down the street.
“Tom, hold up.” Rich, deep toned man said.
“Nice to meet you.”
“I don’t’ . . . I mean,” the man looked around then lowered his voice another octave. “I’m not supposed to do this, but if you want to . . . I mean . . . I have a . . . spare room.”
“Thanks, but . . .”
“Listen, I know that most of the people living here have little to their name.” Boy what a way to put it. Most of the ones living there were drug addicts or criminals. Another reason he knew that two-thirds of his building had gone to the streets to stay. Not something I wanted, but what was my other choices.
“All I’m saying is you can stay there until the reason behind this is found out and some insurance or whatever is paid out.”
I knew defeat was written all over my face, or something had to be, because Kevin motioned to the park across the street. “Wait over there for about twenty minutes and I will be able to leave. I have to work the rest of the night, but I can take my lunch break to take you to my place.”
Best offer he’d get and it beat the streets. “Thanks.” I nodded and headed to the park.