smoke – Christy Grace Scarlet Pen

Smoking or Non Smoking | Short Story

I walked slowly towards the non-smoking section with my hands resting in my coat pockets. It was time. Time to show Slone Carter what it meant to cross me. I was nobody’s fool.

The mid-afternoon smokers always felt more encroaching than the rest. Maybe because the day was already partially over, or maybe because they felt that the non-smokers wouldn’t want to come out to the courtyard and brave the cold weather.

I could see my breath as I took each step closer towards Slone. There was nothing he could say to change my mind; this was how it had to be.
Another step, and another. The bulge in my pocket felt heavier as I get closer. My heart thud in my ears and head, and pulsed through every vein in my body.

I reached them; the smoking workers. One looked up and frowned at the sight of my scrunched face. I pulled out the gun that rested in my pocket and aimed it at Slone Carter. His college pulled at his sleeve and pointed in my direction; the whole group freezing in place.

“Slone Carter. You know who I am?”
Slone shook his head and the anger warmed my cold extremities. “You wouldn’t. I’m just one of the many people who opposed the expansion of the Smoking Area.”
Slone narrowed his eyes and shook his head. “I’m sorry,” he stuttered. His eyes dropped to my gun and his face softened. “You should put that down before someone gets hurt.”
I straightened my shoulders and shook my head violently. “I’ll bet you didn’t consider the environmental impact of smoke. Not to mention the second hand smoke issue for humans and animals.”

Slone Carter rolled his eyes and I stiffened. He wasn’t taking this seriously. If he wouldn’t, I would make him. I took a step closer and the other men in the group – who had dropped their cigarettes onto the ground – retreated a step. Slone, however, didn’t move an inch. His face became calmer the closer I got.

“What do you want me to do about it now?” Slone asked.
I paused. “Isn’t it obvious? I want you to return things to normal.”
Slone laughed and I took another step, my gun now inches from his head. I frowned. “Why aren’t you more concerned that I have a gun to your head?” Sirens grew closer, and in the pit of my stomach, I knew they were coming for me.
Slone raised his chin and tilted his head. “Because I know a real gun when I see one. All you’ve got is a water pistol.”

See You in the Adventures!
Christy Grace

Sirens (Furious Fiction)

FURIOUS FICTION

Accidents, Firemen and Life or Death – June 2019 Furious Fiction – Enjoy!

SIRENS

Sirens grew louder as fire fighters arrived on the accident scene.
I watched through foggy eyes, as the bright red fire engine pulled up next to my car.
The pain was rippling through my legs, chest and head, as I tried to shift underneath the mangled car parts that were shoved up against my body.
My lips were dry and cracked as I attempted to yell out for help. No noise escaped and I tried a soft word, then a whisper; anything.
The smoke was starting to thicken and I squinted, trying to find a face in the smog.
A man with a short, black beard, about thirty, poked his head through the cloud and looked up and down the state of my body.
“Hi, my name is Steven, what’s yours?”

I tried to utter words, but breathing was difficult enough. “Samantha,” I finally managed to whisper.
Steven nodded and looked back at the mangled mess in front of me, turning to yell something behind him as horns honked with traffic now at a screeching halt. I tried to look behind me at the van, which had slammed into my car, and the car in front of me.
“Hey now, stay steady,” Steven said, guiding my head gently back into place. I glanced down at my legs, now hidden by the crushing metal. Steven put a neck brace on me and smiled, “You’re looking a little red in the jowls, Samantha.”
I frowned and he chuckled.
“I have word of the day toilet paper,” he said, pointing to my face. “Your cheeks are looking red.”

I took in a sharp breath as the buzzing of tools shook my car. Steven disappeared and I felt my breathing getting shallow, as my eyes frantically scanned the seat next to me. My son’s Iron Man lunchbox sat on the floor where he had left it this morning.
Steven returned and smiled, “We’ve almost separated the two cars Samantha, just hold on.” He looked across me, the quickly checked the back seat as he saw the lunchbox.
“He’s at school. My son forgot his lunch,” I said quietly. Steven frowned then nodded, disappearing into the haze once again. I felt myself fading, until a sharp grip on my arm pulled me back into reality. Steven was yelling at me, but I couldn’t hear him anymore.

The world was slowly slipping away when light flooded the car. The contorted metal was being pulled away from my legs, and I took in a deep breath of air, as the pressure on my chest was released. The pain was unbearable and I yelled out, as other fire fighters surrounded my now exposed driver’s seat. They slid me onto a thin board and I held my breath as they lifted me into the air, and onto a stretcher.
The world was starting to fade again as I saw Steven’s face, as he spoke in a distant voice next to me.
“You’re going to be ok Samantha.”

Thanks for reading this Furious Fiction from September 2019 by Christy Grace