April Flash #2
prompts by Haredawg: She was a nut job from the word Go; I like my coffee like I like my women; mean and stupid; tough nut to crack; even the blind squirrel occasionally gets a nut; the galleon spilled her cargo in the low and lonesome sea; a high arcing stream through his teeth and into the fire
She was a nut job from the word Go. No, seriously. And the seriously funny thing about that was that I knew it. Everyone knew it. Did that stop me? Absofuckinglutely not. Its probably because I like my coffee like I like my women, mean and stupid. Or black and bitter. Or something. Im not really sure. The fact of the matter was she was a tough nut to crack but so was I. For all the crazy she was, I never thought shed go down for murder. Well, for that matter, I never thought she would have killed me, either. Guess you never know. Being a ghost had its ups and downs. I guess everything does, really. For one, you could play mean tricks on people. Sometimes they even deserved it. But the downside was that not everyone was susceptible to your presence. It was like a connoisseur of fine wine you had to swirl the taste around in your mouth for awhile to unlock the flavor. While most people would notice things flying around the room, it wasnt always possible. She was susceptible though, and I was going to make her pay for this. Even the blind squirrel occasionally gets a nut or, in this case, a dead one. I wanted to make her squirm, make her realize what she had done. I wanted to make the galleon of her life spill her cargo in the low and lonesome sea. I wanted to go exploring. Coming upon her by chance in my first day in the afterlife was a stroke of genius. I had been sitting there, contemplating why I could walk through walls, but could also sit on the concrete and not fall through wondering what I would fall through too and if anything would stop the free fall, or if Id just continue plummeting through the center of the earth until I popped out the other side and would it stop there? Would gravity latch onto my otherworldly ankle, or would I go spinning off into space somewhere? But there she was, cocky and proud, arrogant. She was already on the hunt for a new man. I had considered myself lucky when I met her I was not an easy fellow to know by any means, but I seemed to catch her attention by stroke of chance. Or because I was easy pickins. She approached a stranger at the bar, charming up a storm. He seemed a winner type spitting through the smoke- haze his chewing tobacco in a high arcing stream through his teeth and into the fire in the hearth beyond. I watched for awhile, playing games with their drink glasses moving them around the bar, shattering them occasionally. I followed them out into the alleyway, sure I would see her having gay old time, enjoying herself but when I got there, his hands were already around her throat and the life was leaving her eyes. I wondered for a moment if my face had looked like that in the moments prior to death, when my spirit was still tethered to my body by sheer force of will, ignoring the outside influence trying to rip it asunder. But, no matter.
Bloody hell. The bitch was a ghost now, and was latched onto me like I was some sort of guardian angel, here to light her way into the world beyond. Some people never learn
Prompts:
beware the beast; waxing moon and fading stars; tornado weather