Shane Kroetsch

Dark and Introspective Fiction

Flash Fiction

Stay Safe

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Mello closed one eye and spun the spoked wheel. He narrowed in on the slight wobble as the tick, tick, tick slowed. He held the wheel to stop it, his thumb strategically placed.

            “What are you doing?”

            Mello dug in his pocket for the tiny spanner he found while on their run into the north-east quadrant of the city. “Fine tuning.”

            Sierra put her hands in her pockets and looked to the end of the alley. “Please don’t tell me you were dumpster diving again.”

            Mello shrugged. “Couldn’t help it.” He slipped the spanner over one of the spokes and twisted. The twang of metal rang out as it gave and turned.

            “It’s going to slow us down.”

            “It won’t slow us down.” Mello adjusted the spokes on either side, then closed his eye and spun the wheel again. “I can build a trailer. We can get around faster.”

            Sierra sighed. “It’s more to worry about. We’ll be a bigger target.”

            A shadow passed overhead, near silent, but with the tell-tale scent of ozone. Sierra pushed back against the wall. Only Mello’s eyes moved as he scanned the thin strip of sky above them. When dim light returned, he put the spanner back in his pocket, then stood and flipped the bike upright. “We can carry more. Won’t have to be looking for supplies all the time.”

            Sierra crouched down. “We have a good system, Mel. Stay agile. Stay safe.”

            Mello smiled as he pulled on the levers and pushed the bike forward and back. “I promise, I’ll dump it the second it causes a problem.”

            Sierra lowered her eyes. “I don’t know…”

            At the mouth of the alley, a blur of colour flashed past, then another. Soon they heard shouting, and a scream. Sierra hefted a tall backpack from the ground beside her and slipped it over her shoulder. “I guess we’ll have to argue about this later. We need to go.”

***

Photo by Amy Elting on Unsplash

The Demon

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I turned the light on and pointed it toward the painting on the wall. At first, the image was dull and lifeless. Then the brush strokes swelled. They flowed and shrank, as the demon opened its eyes. It watched me in silence. What it hoped to see, I was never sure. When it was finished, it focused an unknown object across the room.

“My task is complete. Set me free.”

“No,” I said. “I quite enjoy our arrangement.”

Its lip curled, and its eyes grew dark as they turned back to me. “We had a deal.”

“A deal that is no more a thing than the words spoken to seal it. If our positions were reversed, I doubt you would think twice about doing the same.”

The demon bared needle-like teeth and eased its eyes shut. “When I escape this prison, know that the tasks I have been performing will be a kindness compared to your fate.” I shrugged. “We’ll deal with that when the time comes. Until then, I have something I need you to take care of.”

***

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Long Live the King

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It’s quiet. For some reason, that makes me sad. Normally I’d pay good money for the people around me to shut up for a few minutes. Talking about their offspring or last night at the pub. Reminiscing about glory days never to be seen again. It’s like if they don’t have attention paid to their insignificant little lives, they’d cease to exist all together. Like most things, now that I’ve got what I wanted, what I wanted has changed.

It’s quiet because nobody knows what to say. They don’t know what to say, because there isn’t anything to say. The newspapers have it covered. Tragedy. Terror. Assassination. They only use the word assassination when it’s someone important, but then, that’s exactly what this is. It could not, in fact, be more important.

Yesterday a man brought a gun into a place that he wasn’t meant to. He used the gun, as one would, to end a life. Why he chose to end that life, in the end, I’m afraid we’ll never know. The man is what you’d call, no longer available.

A human life is a miracle that should be cherished. As far as anyone knows, it’s an anomaly, not found anywhere else in the universe. Yet, we go out of our way to ignore that fact every day. We think ourselves more important than those around us. That disregard, for another human being with a different point of view is all it took. And now, our king is dead.

***

Photo by JR Korpa on Unsplash

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Dream – Raven

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I remember the waves as they broke along the rocky shore. The sting of the spray and the taste of salt on the cool breeze. The sun just a muted orb nearing the horizon against a sky of grey slate. It was like watching a muted television, but at the same time being inside the picture.

I stood as naked as the day I was born, keeping my delicate bits covered with my hands. Apparently, I’m self-conscious, even in dreams. My toes dug in the sand and the grit worked itself deep in between.

A weight occupied the back of my mind. Like something needed to be said, but I wasn’t the one with the idea. It fought to break through as the waves in front of me slowed until they froze. Fine mist hung in the air, and sea foam strung the length of the shore like dreary cotton candy.

Movement above me caught my attention. A raven circled in a tight, lumbering arc. At what altitude it was impossible to say. It almost seemed I could reach out and hold it in my hand, but at the same time it grazed the stratosphere and would eclipse a jumbo jet.

The sensation in my skull became urgent, frantic even. I caught a glint in the raven’s eye. It focused on me as it made one final lap, then set a course toward the open sea. The pressure in my head eased, and then along with the raven, it disappeared.

***

Photo by sajjad aslani on Unsplash

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Just a Bad Dream

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My whole body flinches and my eyes open to dim, grey light.

Sasha half rolls toward me. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” I clear my throat and force my breath to slow. “No. Bad dream.”

She rolls all the way over and tucks the sheets under her chin. “What happened?”

Shadows weave across the ceiling as a car drives by outside. My chest is tight, and I draw in the air that my body is calling out for. “What was going on in the background isn’t important. Something about a weird old car and a joyride. It was the look you gave me at the end that woke me up. Maybe it was out of embarrassment, or because you were ashamed of something. Then you wouldn’t talk to me or look at me. You just stared at your hands. I didn’t know what else to do, so I walked away. It hurt. A lot.”

Sasha brushes her hair behind her ear. “But it’s not real. It was just a dream.”

“The way it made me feel is real, and that’s the problem. I don’t think it would be affecting me this way if there wasn’t something behind it.”

“So, that’s it. You think I’ve done something wrong?”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“What did you mean, then?”

“I don’t know.”

Sasha moves away from me. “Great.”

I turn my head to her. “Don’t be like that. I know it was only a dream. I…”

She adjusts herself, sinking deeper into her pillow.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to cause a problem.”

When her voice comes, it’s timid and quiet. “It’s okay. I’m sorry for getting upset. I understand, how the feelings can linger.”

“Yeah.”

Sasha rolls back toward me and props herself up on one elbow. Her eyes are clear and her breath warm. She leans in and kisses my cheek, then looks away, like she did in the dream. “I’ve got to get ready for work.”

She pushes the sheets back and swings her legs to the floor. I watch her silhouette move to the bathroom and disappear behind the closed door.

***

Photo by Zach Guinta on Unsplash