Friday, January 20, 2017
This prompt is from Alison. 50 words or less flash fiction.
The dice weren't lucky after all. As Mike plunged past the fifteenth floor at nine point eight meters per second squared, he finally understood why they were blood red.
He wouldn’t survive, but he could still save his soul.
He opened his hand and let the dice go.
Tuesday, January 10, 2017
Cesily pushed the silver lock button on the round bathroom door-handle, then pushed it again just to make sure it was actually locked.
She turned from the door and stepped back. A violet bathroom. She would never have suspected, based on the beige interior of the rest of the house. The silver-framed mirror above the white sink showed not a streak. No water spot in the sink or ring on the counter. The whole room was probably cleaned with one of those microbial towels that are supposed to destroy every bad thing. Rebecca wouldn't allow nasty cleaning solutions in this house. But she must have used some sort of air-freshener, cause the room smelled like sea-water tumbling upon a sandy shore.
Cesily unclasped her small silk tote, pulled out the brown envelope, and dumped a portion of the crushed dirty leaves into her palm. She turned to the toilet.
Orangish yellow splotches surrounded the water's rim and a brown streak disappeared into the hole.
Seriously? Clean mirror and dirty toilet? Ugh.
There was no time to clean it, though. She dropped the foliage in. Dirt separated from the leaves, sinking while the leaves spread along the surface. The water began to swirl, but the mixture didn't include toilet cleaning in its magical powers.
Cesily spun back to the mirror, stifling the urge to vomit. She gripped the rim of the porcelain sink and tried to steady her hands.
"One last time," she whispered to herself.
One. Last. Time.
She took a deep breath, pulled her lips into her mouth in an attempt to not swallow anything, turned, and plunged her head into the toilet water. Then she reached up and flushed.