The Typhoon warning alarm sounded and, after a moment of surprise, everyone ran to get undercover. In our case , we were outside eating on a balcony of the popular bar. Inside the brick building, we could hear the wind and rain, causing absolute chaos out.
The 12 of us that were now inside were trying to work out where it had come from. There had been nothing on the news or weather discussing this was going to happen. That was undoubtedly very rare, as these days we were used to getting about two weeks notice of a storm like this hitting the area.
There had been no warnings, and even the weather before the alarm sounded had not given us as many clues as we would like. It all seemed to be so strange that this phenomenon was even occurring, let alone that we were stuck in the middle.
After what seemed like an eternity, it passed overhead, and we cautiously opened the door to look outside. There were a few clouds, but nothing unusual in the sky. Then we noticed the furniture of the balcony twisted and hanging in a strange and eerie sight.
On this day the woman’s handbag did not contain anything unusual. It held everything you may think is needed, but there was just something about her that made me suspicious. They always say that after a while in airport security, you just know something isn’t right.
I pulled her to one side and proceeded to swab everything for the traces of drugs. Longshot, but it gave me the chance to talk.
“Sorry about this,” I said as I began my work, “it is just something that we have to do.”
Her phone rang just as I picked it up to drug test. “You shouldn’t have this turned on when everything is being x-rayed,” I said as I mentally made a note of the number. It had originated from a local number even though she had just arrived in the country. “Do you have family here?”
She shook her head. “Just a friend that is meeting me at the airport.”
“Holiday?” When she nodded, I continued questioning, “How long for?”
Her hesitation was enough to set the alarm bells ringing in my head. “One moment, please.” I stepped away from the counter and rang immigration.
The following is a response to my own challenge set out in writing Wednesday. Hope you enjoy it.
Do it yourself
It is said that if you want something doing well, you should do it yourself. This is true of all kinds of things from everyday stuff like washing, down to the more unusual things such as gardening. This gives you a sense of achievement, along with pride in your work. That is so much better than paying someone to do it for you.
I recently discovered this does not include everything.
There comes a time that you really should have called in a professional rather than watching YouTube and having a go yourself. This is especially true when it comes to something like hiring a hitman. If I had only gone to a professional, I would not be this situation now, and my life would not be on the line.
The beauty of hindsight.
Well, my husband had proved to be of little use. Not only was he unable to hold down a job that had a decent income for any time, but he was also unable to provide me with children. I was running out of time as women tend to do and yet I was tied to a complete waste of space. There was only one good thing about him, and that was the life-insurance I had insisted he took out. That money would really come in useful when it came to attracting another mate. We all know the money is a good bargaining tool, right?
So I set about formulating a plan. I thought it was going to be simple probably because I had been watching way too many programs like criminal minds and CSI. I fancied my chances and being able to hide everything I was doing from the police. I had been inspired by a particular episode of criminal minds where the killer had posed as a victim who has survived an attack by a serial killer. This gave him anonymity as well as sympathy from law enforcement. That is what I was going to do. I was going to stab my husband and then myself making sure that nobody ever found the knife. I even planned to stage a break-in to distract the police.
Best laid plans, right?
Wrong. I forgot to phone the police before I stabbed myself. Rookie mistake. Now, here I am bleeding to death and completely unable to get to the phone. My only chance of help would have been my husband, but I had successfully managed to kill him. I assumed so anyway because he was not breathing.
I was getting tired, and everything was fading away from me. As my eyes slid closed for the last time, I grabbed hold of my husband’s hand. At least we had gone together.
The following is written having been inspired by the weekly flash fiction challenge hosted by carrot ranch which can be found here.
The apple rolled out of her hands as she fell. The flesh instantly started to darken, and the smell of decay became apparent. A slight movement from the bitten part revealed maggots crawling within.
The writer put down her pen and sighed. It was also very cliché and had been done before on numerous occasions. She needed something new to write about a poisoned apple. There must be something out there.
Then again, sometimes the clichéd worked and this could well be one of those.
Everybody could visualise the instant rotting apple. So, she decided It stayed.