Category: Uncategorized (Page 39 of 44)

Layla sat looking at her phone, willing it to ring. The problem with not having an excuse to ring someone when all that you want is to hear their voice, is that very few people have the power to make that desired voice and the person attached to it make a phone call.

She placed the phone back on the desk by her keyboard and picked up her coffee. She took a sip; it was cold, of course. Most people might see this as the very last straw, but she was one of the true coffee fanatics that just saw this as unplanned iced-coffee experience, and carried on sipping as she flicked through RSS feed after RSS feed of work related internet mumblings.

It was one thing to ‘keep up’ with the comings and goings of the start-up world, but it was another dimension of madness, as far as she could see, to actually care about it. Sure keep a weather eye on any other companies in the same space, but does it really matter if start-up X operating in a totally different market has announced that they have their first round funding?

—

You can see the original post on Ficlets.com by clicking here.

John was pleased with the way that things had gone. As he cleaned off his Peacemaker, which had been spattered with blood and grey matter from the first shot, he reflected on a job well done. Mister Sparks was going to be very pleased.

He had already heard that the Police were mystified as to how the killings had occurred. In truth there was no riddle to solve; the five heavies were killed so that he could get to Smalley, if they had run after the first one fell he would have let them live – why waste the rounds?

Mister Sparks had been very clear about how he wanted Smalley to die, and though John was most pleased to perform surgical kills he was not squeamish over special requests. It had been hard to find a knife that was able to pierce an average skull easily enough that he could be precise about the entry points of the stab wounds. He had found the perfect one in a hunting store in Virginia a week before and paid cash. It was a small place with no cameras, so he had decided to keep the knife for now.

—

You can see the original post on Ficlets.com by clicking here.

Paul stared down at the scene from the catwalk above, trying to walk through the sequence of events in his mind, based on the resulting carnage.

The attacker must have entered to the left, shooting the first stiff in the back of the head as he walked past. This apparently casual act of violence clearly sent the remaining people in the room to seek cover – all of the overturned tables were pointing in that direction.

So the assailant, whoever they were, just kept walking, shooting as they went. The lack of bullet holes in the pieces of ‘cover’ that had corpses behind them suggested a high velocity load in his or her ammo, and a keen eye for shooting blind at a target behind cover. Whoever the assailant was, they had unparalleled confidence and actual ability with a gun.

One, two, three, four, five shots and five dead bodies. It was at this point that the only person left alive in the room apart from the mystery assailant was Smalley. He had only lived long enough to kneel and be stabbed thrice in the face.

—

You can see the original post on Ficlets.com by clicking here.

Paul looked around the carriage and wondered how many of the other people on the train were unemployed. It was not as though he was actually unemployable, he was in fact only technically unemployed, so he was one of the ‘stealth unemployed’ who don’t show up in the figures, who don’t draw benefit, who are not impoverished by their status.

It was the Monday after Glastonbury; many of the people on this particular train were in fact on their way home from Pilton, and so with the cost of tickets and living at the Festival for three or four days being so high most of them had to be employed in some sense. Either that or were indescribably wealthy and so formed the third kind of unemployed; do not need to work.

The interview that he had just attended was still playing on his mind – that was why he was toying with himself in this way, calling himself unemployed. It had not gone as well as he wanted it to and he was needling himself, both out of disappointment and his need to remain focused on other opportunities.

—

You can see the original post on Ficlets.com by clicking here.

Jason pushed his amusement away and concentrated on the framing. He was suddenly and inexplicably struck by the reaction that many of his friends would have to the situation he was in. A lot of men dream of watching a woman masturbate, Jason included, but here he was worrying about the light, and the composition of the frame.

The faint smell of sex in the air, the soft and apparently quite real moans of his model, even the sight of a beautiful, un-enhanced pair of breasts was not breaking through his concentration. Not even the rhythmic movements of her wrist as she described what were no doubt delicious circles around her clitoris were enough to shock him into a more normal frame of mind.

None of his friends would understand – that was what was amusing him – at least none of his male friends. Sure she was a beautiful woman, and he had no one in his life so was even free of thought crime, but no matter how sexual the situation, it was not there for his personal pleasure; just for his camera to witness.

—

You can see the original post on Ficlets.com by clicking here.

The night is calmer now. When I decided to leave the party and head for bed the weather had become violent, as if the elements were angered by the celebrations and were now beating upon the door in protest.

I would have stayed up later, but I had that feeling, when one notices that every other adult in the room has a partner and you are the only person left who is completely alone in a crowd.

I said my goodnights, hugged a few good friends and shook hands with a few others and retreated up into the maze of corridors on the upper floors of the hotel, where everyone can have their own private kingdom until the morning.

The news was the usual quotidien round of moral disappointment and economic doomsaying as I made my preparations for bed; sometimes I wonder why I bother to watch it. I considered reading for a while and decided that I would enjoy my book more with a clear head.

Now in the dark, the breeze blowing over my bare legs there is silence, and though alone I feel content and I cannot explain why.

—

You can see the original post on Ficlets.com by clicking here.

Geoff stood in the doorway looking out at the rows of seats, the flowers and the carpeted aisle. In a couple of hours he would be waiting for Hillary to join him and then in front of all of their family and some of their friends they would tell each other that their love would be unstinting in faith and force for the rest of their lives.

He was ready; he had wondered for some time if he would be when the day came, but rather than a fit of jitters or recriminations a sense of calm had settled on his shoulders and he was at peace, happy.

He was fairly certain that there was no peace to be had in Hillary’s room where more women than anyone should reasonably gather together in a small enclosed space would be fussing over hair and make-up, accessories and shoes, trying not to cry for fear of damaging their mascara and not have time to repair it before the moment arrived.

He smiled to himself and hoped that despite all the panic she could feel the peace of this time; he knew that he would never ever forget it.

—

You can see the original post on Ficlets.com by clicking here.

Fenella sat on the grass bank and watched the crowds milling around her, plates of scones, strawberries and cream and glasses of Pimms clutched in their hands. There was a time, when she would have given anything to be amongst them, gossiping about this person and that person, were they in favour with the committee, had they been seen in the wrong kinds of clubs and so forth.

This year she was here to do no more than spectate; she should have stayed away as already her flesh was beginning to crawl. On the surface this bright society of cultured snacks, cocktails and tittle tattle had seemed so attractive to her when she had arrived in Westbury. Once she left the daylight world that had wooed her in and saw the darker side of Westbury’s people there was nothing left of that attraction. There was only fear.

Even now she was here to pretend that she was still a normal member of that world, when in truth she was far from that; in fact she was here to despatch the Chairman, and she intended to get away with it.

—

You can see the original post on Ficlets.com by clicking here.

Cal surveyed the scene, his hand resting gently on the edge of the bar. There was no doubt that the people in there were waiting to see what he would say or do or think. It was a tough gig to take over a successful niche bar, in this case a rock pub, and not piss off the hard core of regular customers that make it viable to even have the place exist.

He liked the place; sure he had only been there for twenty-four hours, but the vibe he was getting from the locals was that as long as he did not fuck up their pub then the fact that he had usurped a popular bar manager would be over-looked. From what he could tell, Snit and Hayley were just about the most popular management team in living memory, so he had a hell of a bar to clear.

The fact that the place was running low on all of the staples; cider, ale and post-mix coke to go with the Blackjack, was not helping. He could tell that he was going to like the regulars, because they were still there; just drinking vodka and tonic instead, at least until tomorrow.

—

You can see the original post on Ficlets.com by clicking here.

Thomas leaned back into the sofa and raised the goblet to his lips. The warm, slightly viscous cognac slipped across his lips and down his throat, heating up his mouth and chest. It was good brandy. There was none of the ragged edge that one comes to expect from the cheap stuff, slicing into ones gullet instead of the smooth slide of this fine drink.

He looked up to see Paul smiling at him, and then his own goblet;

“You like the Cognac then, Thomas?”

Thomas simply nodded, allowing a smile to spread across his face. There are those that would claim that gaining such pleasure from what is essentially a drug is not wise, but Thomas reveled in the sheer luxury of drinking such exquisite booze and had no shame about it;

“Paul, it is magnificent. Thank you mon ami. You must allow me to return the favour at some point. You do like whisky, don’t you?”

Paul nodded and his smile grew even wider. He took immense comfort in knowing that Thomas was as moved by the senses as he was; they were going to be good friends.

—

You can see the original post on Ficlets.com by clicking here.