Tag Archives: #nycmidnight

Break One Mind to Create a Monster

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Synopsis

Adolphus is at a crossroads. His mother recently died which caused Adolphus to consider his future, what he aspires to, what his next step will be.
Then he finds the waterfall.

(WRITTEN FOR ROUND 1 OF #NYCMIDNIGHT #FLASHFICTIONCHALLENGE2023 – SUBMITTED JUNE 2023. Didn’t make Round 2)

A young boy in a grey suit, lavender coloured shirt, holding a dandellion, sitting on a bench

Adolphus slumped upon a flat boulder in the dark of the cave. He was cold and surprised. Moments ago he’d been quietly at breakfast attempting to peel his morning egg, with his cat, Blondi.

His beloved mother had recently died, and Adolphus was alone. While breaking his fast he contemplated his vision of an ideal world.

Distracted, he dropped the egg and watched it lazily bounce and roll away. He shrieked as the egg disappeared through a crack in the wall. Startled, he stood. Blondi left him to the strangeness.

Adolphus stepped toward the crack and pushed through his hand then his shoulder. With a deep groan, the crack widened enough to absorb Adolphus.

In summer pyjamas, napkin tucked beneath his chin, Adolphus explored the cave as well as he could without light, finding no evidence of bear or beast. But plenty of evidence of mankind, including wall art.

Fresh water from a spring flowed via a channel in the floor. There was bedding and other personal items scattered around.

An impenetrable waterfall formed the fourth wall. Adolphus carefully surveyed the cave and found no escape route.

People use this cave, he thought. They will return.

Adolphus stood eager and unafraid when he heard voices. He was surprised by the appearance of two ape-like men. Broad in face and body with strong bone structure, heavy eyes and brows with deep dark eye sockets and deeply brown skin.

They seemed like monkeys to Adolphus.

One shouted nonsense words, and waved his arms aggressively. The message was clear to Adolphus. Leave the cave now, or, consequences.

He positioned himself at arm’s length to the wild men. They indicated he should  lead the way. He looked at the waterfall and again saw no way out and shrugged his shoulders.

As Adolphus stood wondering what would happen next, a gentle giant took him by the arm guiding him carefully through a thin water veil. Out into the brightest sunlight, the bluest sky. This horizon free of the arrogance of man and his architectural debris.

Adolphus saw a vast plain and more men, with women and children, working and playing across a  campsite. A low fire burned in a pit.

In moments they were surrounded. By smiling children (keen to touch the stranger) dangerous men, and unimpressed women.  The tribe wore little clothing and the women’s breasts swung like pendulums.

Adolphus was pushed to the ground, while the ape-men conversed heatedly. It appeared there was no consensus about what to do with him. Many glared at him, telegraphing their intention.

The women were calm. They began to smile at him. They checked his hair for pests. Fingered the materials of his nightclothes. Some marvelled at his bare, white feet. He was tickled and he laughed involuntarily. The ladies laughed with him.

The men looked angrier than ever, at this cuckold in their nest. Then descended upon him, scattering women and children like petals into the wind.

Adolphus curled into a foetal position to protect himself from the clear displeasure of these men. Their feet acted as drums, causing the ground to rumble. Their voices carried clear menace, even though Adolphus could not decipher their words.

He thought, I am a stranger here. I don’t belong. I am not wanted. And this is what happens to the cuckold, to the foreigner. To those not the same.

A large ape-man plucked Adolphus from the ground and as easily as tossing wood onto the fire, so he threw Adolphus.

Adolphus lay in the fire pit, his brain trying to understand what had happened. Then as the burning heat registered on his hands and knees, he screamed and propelled himself like a jack in the box out of the fire. With bare hands he tried to dampen the flames clinging to him. The ape-men hounded him with sticks, back toward the waterfall.

Adolphus obliged and trudged along, more concerned with his burns than the irritating sticks herding him. Like cattle.

As he pushed through the veil of water he screamed to them.

What shall I do here? I have no food, no clothes, and no way home!

He was ignored.

Adolphus held no hope of returning home. The fluke of a magic gateway happening once did not guarantee a return ticket.

He picked up the egg, cold now, and juggled it from hand to hand as he considered options.

Eat it? Who knew how long before his next meal. Or, keep the egg. It may be needed to get him home.

Adolphus paced the cave trying to find a sign of where he came through. A large fissure, disturbed soil, perhaps a breath of air crossing the divide from his home in Linz to this place.

He found a spot where it looked right but the gap was too small to crawl through. Measuredly, with no display of panic, he weighed the egg in his hand then rolled it gently at the wall. The egg disappeared.

As Adolphus crawled to the gateway, he heard the plaintive miaows of his beautiful cat.

Then he was through, sitting on his dining room floor, with Blondi crawling all over him.

Hold, my darling Blondi. I am well and reborn. He smoothed her white coat, gazed into her blue eyes. I understand my duty. It is to keep my Volk pure and free of outsiders.

As Adolf began his new life, the gentle ape-man finished his latest work of art. A small, white, moustached child-man standing quite erect. Hovering over his hand was a giant egg.

Perhaps it crossed his mind. That was one strange brother.

Author Note:

The judges didn’t seem to get what I was imagining here. 

This was an imagined Adolf Hitler, when he was Adolphus. 

His mother had recently died. He was considering what his future looked like. 

He dropped his boiled egg. I rolled away to an ‘opening’ to another time.
With early ‘monkey-like’ man. 

This frightened him, at a heightened emotional time in his life, and put the nail in the coffin of his attitude to life. 

The baseline would have already been there. His cat was named Blondi after all.

He could have gone either way. He could have remembered the fear, but then the stranger who helped him. But that’s not how the story went. 

The monkey-like beings frightened him as the ‘other’. And he would never be other. He would be the bogey man.

He would create a world where blond, blue eyed, Aryan was the predominant type. And he would never fear again.

Absolutely NOT MAKING EXCUSES for an evil man. 

Just IMAGINING. 

All Star Caper

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Synopsis

Ma Jenkins is no fool. The easiest job of her nefarious career has landed in her lap. She needs a team, fast. Not the best team; and that’s exactly what she’s got!

I tap fingers on my desk and watch Bo the Beast pace, with his usual lumbering impression of a restless rhino. With every pounding step the room quakes. He’s messing up the place. Pictures tilt on the wall, coffee jumps out of cups. The drawers of the filing cabinet shudder and jerk. He’s pricking at my patience.

He’s on edge, frustrated and furious since I ordered Curly the Butcher and his moll, Samantha Tease to make an appearance. I’ve an urgent job and my regular no-good thieves are unavailable. I’m making do. Samantha broke Bo’s heart and he now wants to kill Curly. It’s gonna take some gentle handling of the situation.

As opposed to the gloss and opulence of the rest of the Penthouse Suite, I’ve kept this room dark, shabby and uncomfortable, reminiscent of the old days, before I felt impelled by my success to move uptown.

I’m sitting behind my old desk, scarred (like me). It’s huge and encourages the delusion of me as a fragile, silver haired, old gal playing at mob matriarch. It leads visitors to unrealistic expectations of what they might get away with. And if there’s any trouble, well, I let Bo loose.

I’m about to blow a gasket waiting on Curly and Samantha. Waiting is not what I do best, and it’s been fifteen minutes since I called. A job has fallen into my lap, an easy-peasy, money for jam, low-risk heist and we’ve only a couple of hours to pull it together.

And here they are. Laughing, confident swagger. Samantha stiletto heeled and curvaceous. Curly, stylish and debonair. They are loud, full of themselves and deadly killers. Not the skillset I require for tonight’s job, but I need people who are reliable under pressure.

‘About bloody time. What was the hold up?’ I growl.

‘Sorry, boss,’ said Curly. ‘Traffic.’

Bo kicks the filing cabinet at this cheek, and the top drawer crashes open, smashing him in the face. Stupid move, but I do appreciate his impulse control.

‘It’s one in the morning, idiot. Not an excuse that fits the situation.

‘Time is of the essence with this one. Quick and easy, no fuss. There’ll be nobody around. We won’t need any knife action,’ I warn.

‘Whaddya need us for then,’ demands Samantha. She needs an attitude adjustment.

‘Yeah, not really our type of gig,’ adds Curly.

‘What I need is all hands on deck,’ I say. ‘Loyal and reliable, and today, you’re it.

‘Paddy Patch has his nose in a cast. When he breathes, it’s a freight train. Johnny Juicy is holidaying with his kids in Bali. I’ve never heard the like. All my best stealers are in jail. Maybe not the best, thinking on it.’

‘So, it’s a stickup?’ Bo mumbles through the hand currently holding his face together.

‘It’s a deceased estate sale. Amateur setup. Word is a real treasure trove. Easy money.

‘So easy,’ I continue, ‘that a clever mob with a reliable van can cruise on in and walk out with armloads of the meltable stuff. A golden opportunity.’

A piercing scream from Samantha reveals her clumsy attempt to snoop in the filing cabinet as she’s snagged by the hidden mousetrap. Bo and Curly punch and shove their way to her aid, while I breathe deep in an effort to not pull a gun on them.

‘People! Quit fooling around, we’re outta time. Sam, get into the bathroom, there’s bandages and stuff. Fix yourself up. Boys, guns and dynamite are in the bottom drawer.

‘It’s basically a snatch and grab. Bo, you’ll punch through the front door, then the three of you grab anything that glitters gold. We’ll take the van. I’ll drive.’

Curly grunted a choked laugh at that. Disrespect. To deal with later.

‘Whatever we can take in say, twenty minutes, will do it. I don’t expect to need hardware, but we’ll prepare for the unexpected.’

‘The drawer’s locked, Boss,’ says Curly. ‘Do you have the key?’

‘I never open that drawer. Ah, yes, the key’s in the third drawer. Protected by the mousetrap,’ I say. Delighted at the irony.

We catch the lift down to the basement carpark and pile into the Lite Ace van I keep next to the Porsche. Unremarkable in city traffic, good for under the radar.

Although the van is small, I struggle to see over the dash and feel all eyes on me! More disrespect to be dealt with, later.

‘We’ll drive around the block, eyeball any CCTV, get the lay of the land,’ I say.

But on the first lap, we are stunned to see Joe Murphy and his boys laden with plunder. We jerked around for too long and missed our own party!

We watch for a minute as Joe stands in the doorway, surrounded by broken glass, taking a last look around before heading to his getaway vehicle.

‘Want me to rough someone up?’ asks Bo.

‘Team effort,’ says Curly. ‘Bo creates the chaos. Sam and I finish them off.’

‘Bo, call that sergeant at Police Central. Give him the tip, and we’ll call it a day,’ I say.

I take a moment to consider, before putting the car into drive, blocking Joe’s escape, just as we hear the wail of police sirens. Serves the bastard right, stealing our loot.

Job done, we drive off, Joe Murphy giving us the eye.

When, truly in concert for the first, we give him the collective bird. [907 words]

Alone

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Synopsis

A lone voice in the dark keeps hope alive

Submitted to Round 1 of the 250-word Microfiction Challenge, November 2022

The formerly busy square of a bustling city, streets now desolate, deserted, atmosphere dark and brooding.

The only sounds, the eerie moan of a lonely wind, and screams of twisting buildings, corkscrewing into oblivion.

No human walked these streets, only hungry creatures roamed free from interference. Rodents, pets gone feral, deer, wolves. And predators.

A battered German Shepherd named Harvey, who’d once been loved by a Small Child, came daily to this place of echoes, ghosts. Aching for his Gracie.

His matted, patchy fur, grey lined muzzle, tattered ears and flyblown eyes disguised the beauty of this once fine animal. His heart lifted and eyes shone when he heard her voice calling him, gathering memories, hastening hot tears. He hurt, yet he came as a Willing Supplicant, in hope that he could feel her love, her warmth, her touch.

‘Help a hungry child, every dollar counts. Donate today.’

The disembodied voice played around the square. Muted as it bounced off green covered buildings. Sharp as it hit open air and clear-to-the sky glass towers. The voice was of a girl child, bright, innocent and hopeful.

Ears pricked and tail wagging, the beast smiled with happiness. His vision impaired by tears and overlong fur, he gambolled like a puppy with joy. She was here.

Except that, she was not. Once a day, the girl’s voice broadcast from the bones of a screen that showed children squatting in dirt, huddled and unhappy.

Hope sustained his canine soul.