Applause - flash story

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Applause

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Three minutes of fame was all she asked for: Three. Minutes.

A crew member signalled to her: “you’re up in two!”

She nodded. Deep breath. She shook her arms, shoulders, getting ready for the moment. Standing in the opening to the stage, the arena, she heard the crowds roaring, stamping their feet; her audience, impatiently waiting for her. A bell was struck.

Suddenly, insecurity crawled up on her. Should she smile or keep a straight face? And what kind of smile should she use, mysterious? Or laugh widely, cheerfully, girl-next-door style? And her eyes, how should her eyes... She should be tempting, beckoning, maybe a slight bit naughty?

She plunged forward from the curtains, enshrined in spotlights, and strode across her private catwalk, making her little turn in her leopard print bikini and held up a sign saying “Round 2”.

Applause resounded.

series of 100 words short stories, theme: bullying

Here’s another ‘100 series’, inspired by Scott’s blog. This time, they aren’t funny, or witty, but they’re not supposed to be. I hope you like them.

I. WHENG

He was always in the back of the class. Head low, silent, face hidden away in his palm. His clothes smelled funny. I’m sure that was what set it off. He said it was gasoline, an accident, we knew he didn’t wash them. Who doesn’t wash their clothes? It’s only plain courtesy not to stink, right? We didn’t know he couldn’t afford it, he never told us. We didn’t ask, but still. He kept smiling, no matter how bad it got. How could we possibly know he cried about it at home or that he would... It’s not our fault.

II. Cause He Loved Other Ellens

She looked at her reflection in the mirror and pulled up her shirt. Maybe if she lost a few pounds, she wouldn’t be so invisible then. Be more like everyone else. Not having to be ashamed in the locker-room. She knew they were laughing behind her back. Sometimes not even waiting till she turned her back either. She’d skip desert. And dinner. That way, she’d lose a pound by morning. Wouldn’t she? She’d be sure to catch his attention, this time. She ignored the distressed alarm signals from her stomach. She’d be so much thinner for it. So much prettier.

III. Mania

It was hurtful to see him come in. He was upset, it was all over his face, but he didn’t say anything, not a word. I had to hear from others, teachers, principals... It made me afraid to pick up the phone or go to that school, that office yet again and listen to the awful things they did to him. While not being able to do a single thing about it. I tried talking it over with him, but he kept his mouth shut, pretending everything was alright, hiding his intentions. That must be when he bought the gun.

If Only

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If Only

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The rain patters the windows. It just keeps pouring and pouring.

I look up from my book and sigh.

If only...

If only I were rich enough to buy a summer house somewhere warm, anywhere warm and go there as soon as the weather got cold. I’d never again have to make it through one more dreadful winter.

I look out. It’s so hideous. I don’t feel like setting one foot outdoors these days, and the house just can’t get hot enough.

Soon there won’t be a spot of green left on the trees. It will start freezing constantly. It will be slippery. The busses will be late, or rather later than usual, much later. I know how that goes. Last year I spent four hours waiting for one because there was a sudden snow storm. There I was in the blistering cold, the wind, my face all red... Horrible!

If only I could go somewhere tropical, just pack up my bags and leave, never looking back, never needing to, just being free.

A shrill voice snatches me away from my revelry. Dinner. It’s time to clean my cage.

I’m not nearly busy enough not to hear how the pattering gains force as hail starts to gush down from the sky. It beats the leaves off the bushes. I get the plates, the glasses, I can’t do it loud enough.

If only..

Ambulance

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Ambulance

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The sirens are loud. It makes my head hurt. Turn them off, please...

I try, frantically, to lift my arm, but I seem to be strapped up. I can’t move, not an inch.

There’s pressure on my body, my chest, as if it’s about to break.

There’s a face above me. I can’t make out the features. It’s all far too hazy.

The ambulance drives down the streets and over every possible obstacle at full speed. It shakes my body violently from side to side.

My limbs bang against the sides of the slate, they try to hold me back but don’t always succeed as well. One of the men curses at the driver.

“Just be careful!”

There you have it. I wish I had been more careful.

I want to cry out that I’m cold, that I’m scared, that I want to go home, but the respiration device blocks the way.

I want to lift my head to see, but can’t. What’s going on? What’s going on?

My lips shape please, they don’t respond, can’t they hear me, can’t they see it?

All the world resorts to mutters as a man’s words wipe my pages blank and resonate in my head. I, Echo, hear them over and over again:

Time of death, 3.53 p.m.