Three Short Short Stories
Free Fall
Mack had it all once upon a time.
He had the money. He had the cars, twenty-five to be exact. From a Rolls Royce to a Bentley, to Corvette’s, Maserati’s, and Lamborghini’s; to even collector cars such as one he bought from Dale Earnhardt before he died.
He had five homes across the country and three villas’ overseas.
He had the women. American women, Brazilian, European and Oriental women. Didn’t matter to Mack. He was all for living the high life.
He started running numbers in the neighborhood when he was ten and worked his way up the ladder until one day he got as far as he could get on the food chain as he could go. And that was okay with him. A good Irish Catholic kid makes good with the Italian Mob. Whatever they asked of him, he did. No questions asked.
Along came a day when the Mob told him he had to take a fall. He had to go down, but that all his possessions would be protected, and he would be well taken care of while in prison. Mack wasn’t worried. Besides, five years was nothing.
The Mob kept their word. Everything he owned was still where it was when he was released. There was even a coming home party. A party the Mob knew nothing about.
A party Mack wasn’t expecting.
He arrived home, as he walked into his favorite home, he saw and read banners strung out over the front door welcoming him home. Mack smiled. When he stepped inside he saw more banners, and when his eyes darted to his left, he saw a huge cake sitting on his dining room table, with several bottles of champagne sitting one ice. Mack kept smiling.
Everyone was hiding, he thought. Soon, they would all stand up shouting “Welcome home!”
He was right, but the smile on his face turned into a puzzled expression.
They were all women.
All the women he had had and then dumped.
His latest stayed by his side the entire five years he was locked up, but the party was her idea, especially after she found out about the prior women in Mack’s life. She didn’t want to be another kicked-to-the-curb bitch that no longer interested Mack.
She and twenty-eight other women at Mack’s coming home party were going to celebrate, and celebrate they did.
Mack tried, oh how he tried to talk them down, to cajole them, to let them know that each one still meant something to him, but they weren’t buying his lies.
Surrounding him, he saw they all had knives. He tried to escape through the front door.
He cursed. He screamed. He died.
And the girls drank champagne and laughed.
Nursery Rhyme Killer
“Mary, Mary, how does your garden grow?”
Henry buried old Mrs. Mary Hanks in her own backyard next to her roses.
“There was an old woman who lived in a shoe.”
Henry beat old Mrs. Rose Smitters to death with a combat boot.
“Mary had a little lamb.”
One Mary Ellery was found behind her barn and beside her was a lamb with its throat cut just as Mary’s was.
“Jack be nimble, Jack be quick.”
Jack Haney wasn’t quick enough. His legs were found on the other side of the road.
Henry just loves nursery rhymes.
Water, Water, Everywhere
Twenty-nine days.
Twenty-nine long, deadly and fearful lonely days, never knowing when I would die, yet alone worried about living.
When the boat went down about a hundred miles south of the Bahamas, one of the last things I remembered were the people screaming, clamoring to get to a life boat while others jumped into the cold Atlantic.
I swam as hard as I could to get away from any down-pull from the sinking ship. I didn’t want to become a permanent part of its dying vortex as it spiraled to a blackness below I wanted no part of.
But I did have some luck where a portion of the ship broke off and was every bit a flotilla that worked for me. I climbed atop the broken structure and sprawled across it though my feet dangled in the water from time to time. Not knowing if sharks were in this area or not, the only times I would let them be in the water was when I was awake. Last thing I needed was to feed the fishes and bleed to death from two mangled stumps. I’d sleep in the fetal position. Better that than dead.
Twenty-nine days.
Never saw a soul after the ship sank once daylight first hit. Now after all these days, my body is blistered from the heat of the sun during daylight, and at night I nearly freeze to death.
And I am starving. I’ve probably lost twenty or thirty pounds. Not good when you were a buck-forty going into this nightmare.
Yes!
Yesyesyesyes!
Land!
Unless I’m seeing things from being out here too long, it sure looks to be real trees coming out of real land and getting closer by the minute.
I arm paddle blistered arms to try to get there faster. A hundred yards out. Seventy-five. Fifty.
Screw this.
I dive in the water and swim the rest of the way until my hands and feet reach a point where I can stand up for the first time in twenty-nine days, chest high in water and begin walking forward as water drips off me to a dark brown sand where water rushes over it and my steps take me further in until I find myself standing under tree limbs.
Shade.
Such a small thing is shade. Right now, it’s worth more than all the gold in Fort Knox. I lie down beside a huge thick tree, its large leaves protecting me from a sun bearing down without mercy.
I lay there for what I believe is forever when I hear noises coming from all around me.
I sit up and then I feel the first piercing pain thrust into my back.
I feel another that slams between my shoulder blades. I want to scream out, but my lungs are dry, my lips blistered and cracked many times over.
I roll to my hands and knees and struggle to push myself to stand up.
Standing, I turned my body slowly around, my hands reaching behind me and I feel two sticks stuck into my back. Arrows.
Five people come out from hiding behind the trees, each brandishing a bow and arrow at the ready; each man holding a menacing look about themselves.
They aim directly at me and I know I’m about to die.
Twenty-nine days, only to die like this.
As they release their arrows, I see that each person has a small head tied by string or rope around their necks.
I almost want to laugh as I realize I may be their dinner tonight.