Flash Fiction: Price To Pay

Today’s story was influenced by a music complication featuring some of the tunes from Shadowrun Returns. The specific track is Blood Hounds. The compilation video is here, and is the same music I listened to for Tuesday’s story.

I touched his forehead. It was warm still, and he squirmed a little in protest. I nodded, then took my dagger and slit his throat. I suppose I could have saved myself the trouble and just tried to kill him immediately but I wasn’t comfortable with the thought of desecrating a body. I know, it doesn’t make sense, but it’s my way. I need you to understand that, as you go through my memories. I need you to know why I’m doing things this way.

Franklin had been the last of the squad, besides me. The bulk of them had died from the fire wave of bugs. Invaders. Look, whatever you want to call them. I’m not clear what they are anymore. They had crawled out of the hatch as soon as we tried to board the vessel. They came fast and began slicing open pressure suits and skin with every touch of their vine like bodies. It was supposed to be a simple recon job, but you bulkhead warriors didn’t bother to tell us what was on board.

The four of us that lived through the attack pulled back, trying to seal the airlink’s hatch and save ourselves. That’s when Jenn died. They wrapped their limbs around her and… I’ve never seen a body taken apart like that before. Look, I used to work at a butchery house on Raekin III. I know what how fast a bovine can be killed, shredded, and cleaned. That’s merciful quick work. She suffered. She suffered as she watched parts of come undone in strips. It was done to hurt, to hurt her and to fuck us out of our minds.

It damn near worked too. Franklin was the one who attacked Hugo when he slipped on the latch. I think Hugo would have had it too, if Franklin hadn’t slammed him head first into the metal door. I managed the handle but another vine already reached in and grabbed Hugo’s limp form. It yanked and yanked until strips of him floated around the room. My knife cut the bug’s limb. Invader. Sorry. Invader’s limb off. The damage was done though.

That’s when I tackled Franklin, slamming him against the bulkhead and knocking him out. He cost Hugo his life. He paid with his. I don’t regret it. I don’t care what you do with me now. I just want you to understand why. I’m no traitor, I’m not infected by those things.

Really? I guess that’s one way for me to pay for a taken life. Yeah, I’ll go back out there. I’ll face them again. I’ve got no one else to lose.

Working in first person direct narrative is a weird experiment for me. I’m used to avoiding the word ‘you’ outside of dialogue boxes, so using it within the context of a direct narrator is a fun experiment. First person limited narratives tend to be my bread and body for longer pieces, which third person narratives representing most of my shorter flash pieces. In the coming weeks I’m going to use these flash pieces to experiment with styles, and see what works, what fails, and what’s worth developing further.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *