Short Story: You are a customer lying face down on the floor during a bank robbery. Describe the robbery from this vantage point.

You are a customer lying face down on the floor during a bank robbery. Describe the robbery from this vantage point.

The cold marble was making my ear numb and the fixed position I had to hold my body in was giving me a cramp and yet I felt oddly calm, strangely euphoric. I held my body still as one of the three armed men walked past me, his boots brand spanking new, size nine, dark brown laces. I looked up carefully, he was probably my height, 5’10, slim, a mask over his face, but not his ears, pale a little red at the tips. I quickly looked at the other three guards. Their ears exposing their race to me.

My mind pinged as I looked at all three of them again; they had been eating at the café across the road for almost a month. I had spoken to one of them a few times. I could help the police when they interviewed me later. The police who had burst open my door a few nights ago because they had gotten an address wrong, terrified my student who I was tutoring who had been thrown against the floor, a gun to his cheek, as the police had torn my apartment inside out, searching for someone who was never there, before I, who they had put into handcuffs, had been able to explain to them, that 4a the apartment they were looking for was across the street, I was 4a1. A common mistake, one that could have been easily rectified if they had listened from the beginning.

I could anonymously help the bank. The same bank that had refused to grant me a loan to start my tutoring business, a business that had been taking off before the police had put a gun to one of my students, making all the parents rightfully stop bring their children to my house.

Abruptly I was furious and my mind again presented me with a plan to profit from my present situation.

I stood up, clutching my chest. The armed robbers came up to me immediately.

“Take me to the toilet, I will help you,” I said clearly whiles portraying someone in distress to the other thirty seven hostages.

They looked at each other and one of them raised his gun.

“Eggs benedict, hash brown, two sausages, baked beans, three brown toasts.” I said quickly meeting the eyes of the man who had raised the gun, before continuing with the theatrics again.

I was immediately walked to the toilet.

I quickly told them about my plan.

“Where the hell did you learn how to crack safes,” pink ears said, “you talk weird as well, are you like rain man or something.”

“I’m a tutor, one of the children will only learn if I allow him to crack a safe after every sessions, he taught me.” I said indirectly answering his question.

They were silent for a moment.

“Do we have a deal?” I asked to sped things along.

“Hell yeah!” The third man said sticking his head through the door.

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Sickle Cell Strong

I have really amazing news which I want to share with everyone!

I am one year hospital admissions free! #Sicklestrong

As I am sure you all know I have sickle-cell anaemia an inherited blood disorder. Red blood cells which are round and soft become hard and sickle shaped, this causes a multitude of problems such as painful crisis, organ damage and organ failure, extreme fatigue, strokes, swelling of extremities, bacterial infection and may lead to death.

Through the years I have struggled with having sickle-cell, there has been many ups and downs, bouts of depression in dealing with a life long illness but it has taught me many lessons, some hard but always necessary in making me the person that I am today and despite not realising it at the time I am grateful for everything I have been through.

It is a credit to all I have learnt and the support system around me that has kept me out of hospital this year. In my lifetime there has never been a full year without me being admitted to hospital, every year since I was born I am admitted to hospital five or six times a year from one to six weeks at a time.

I had enough of always being sick and I have tried different things throughout the years. But last year I decided to try something different subtle. I kept meditating, I tried to eat a little healthier but the main thing I have changed is drinking alkaline water. It has revolutionised my life, I drink four litres of it every day and it works! It really works. I am not saying I have not been sick for a year, I still get daily pain, and ‘mini-crisis’ every few months but the really bad crisis that I used to get has gone. I know it is not forever but I have enjoyed a year without once having to deal with that level of pain and I am beyond grateful. I am looking forward to more healthier days ahead.

 

Short Story: Aggressively dating: Mixing Mixers

Mixing Mixers

“I can’t believe you dragged me here,” Angie said on a hushed whisper to Jamie.

Jamie shrugged completely unconcerned, she looked amazing as usual and she was getting numerous admiring glances from all the men in the bar, and there were a lot of men.

The women had all dressed up and despite what she had promised herself earlier she felt intimidated. The flirting that was going on was borderline aggressive, there was hair flicking, light touching and girly laughs sounding all around the intimately lit bar.

“It’s like –”

“A competition,” Jamie finished as she walked confidently to the bar and ordered two drinks, “two strawberry daiquiris please,” Jamie said to the bartender before turning back to Angie, “Angie darling, this is a fierce battle, there are no trophies here for participation, if you want something you need to take it by the bulls and I’m talking literally.” Jamie said laughing.

Angie gave her a look as Jamie winked.

“Why not? You are single and need I remind you a virgin,” Jamie said on a whisper.

“I know,” Angie said petulantly, “everyone keeps –”

“Shhh, remember charming, your gorgeous and amazing show it to them,” Jamie said nodding at two guys who had just walk over.

Angie felt the strange compulsion to down her drink, she felt so nervous in her short dress Sedra had picked out.

“Hey ladies,” a man with dark hair and even darker eyes said, he had an American accent and Angie had noticed that he had at one point been the focus of every women in the bar.

He was well built and exceptionally good looking, so much so that Angie wondered what he was even doing here. He was with a friend who had a slighter build but was equally as handsome but just didn’t exude the same confidence.

“Can we get you ladies a drink?” the American said.

 

Short Story: The Longest Bus Ride

I opens my eyes, I’m not awake, but this isn’t sleep. I’m drowsy but my mind is focused. A jolt of electricity rushes through my body. The pain is powerful; like a whispered secret in my ear. I control the trembling by concentrating on the noises washing over me. The whispers and the silence. The movements and the stillness. Another jolt, the pain wants my attention. I focus for a moment, and really try to feel. Should I be alarmed that I knows this much pain? But it’s like music, da dum da dum da dum, with every pump of my heart, fresh pain. I marvel at the body’s ability to endure so much, it’s like war and I have not yet learnt how to lose. I suck in a breath. My moment of weakness has cost me as someone turns to look.

Concern? Fear? Suspicion?

I wants to explain; I opens his mouth, then closes it again.

More attention from the stranger.

A splash of water on my trembling hands. I forgot about the tears.

I jolt in my seat as the bus stops, my eyes flutter momentarily and I almost lose control of the reins. The stranger gets up and with one last look leaves me.

I’d feel relived but all my body knows is the pain, all my feelings and all my mind. The whole world is pain.

The pulsing in my head blurs my vision for a few moments and my body stops taking in oxygen as panic seeps through vulnerable thoughts.

My stop is fast approaching and I prepare my body for what I’m about to do, but obedience will not be had and the pain ups the stakes.

It’s my stop, my eyes strain as I gazes at the open doors slowly closing.

I lurch out of my seat, my ears pick up alarm from the other commuters but all I know is the exit. I stumble but I do not fall.

Slowly I’m made aware that the bus is not moving despite my presence on the pavement. I’m being looked at but I have no time for them.

I’m single minded in my need to get home. Every step is absorbed by my body.

Stopping never occurs to me.

Something more important is demanding my attention and that’s time. I can feel the countdown scarping against my bones. The beat is obnoxious in my eardrums.

I’m through the front door.

Alarmed voices and softly spoken words. I’m at the centre of the calmest storm.

My body wants to give in and I’m tempted but peace will not be found at home.

The wait almost breaks me but I endure another ride on a different type of bus.

I’m lying still; the screams are so loud but I can’t open my mouth to voice them. The pain doesn’t no defeat but nor do I.

The Hospital is close but I know the pain is in my lifeblood, my very DNA, my sickle cell anemia.

My Husband, his Mistress and I part 5

My Husband his Mistress and I pic
I dash inside and call his work place, my hand already on our house phone – ready to call the police. The phone rings for several minutes whiles my mind, already in over-drive, goes crazy.
“Yeahhhhh,” Someone slurs down the phone.
“It’s me! It’s Vivian, is Marcus there?” I ask panicked.
“Viv?” The person slurs again and I can practically taste the alcohol through the line.
“Where is Marcus?” I repeat practically shouting through at the person.
“Who whoa, no need to shout, shhh, I think Marcus is being naughty in the filling cabinet.” The person giggles.

I pause. My breaths which have been rapid, slow down, I feel my eyes grow wide and my mouth forms an o. My husband, the square, incapable of being even ten seconds late is in the filling cabinet being naughty, doing what and more importantly with whom? The new receptionist, my mind whispers softy, but I can’t believe it, they hired someone experienced; ‘looks like my aunt Unis’, my husband said, no one young works in the office except other family members, daughters, sons, cousins, people generally off-limits or treated like children. So who could it be? And the question galvanizes me into action. The person is still giggling but I click the call off and dash so fast around the corner my foot actually burns. I run to my coat and grab my pumps out of cupboard. My car keys are next. I spare a quick glance for the kitchen to make sure I haven’t left anything on. And I’m in my car going fifty miles in a thirty mile zone before I know it. I don’t like speeding I’ve been in a car accident before, but this is life and well my marriage!

My Husband, his Mistress and I part 2

My Husband his Mistress and I pic

I’ve been married to my husband for almost ten years, we got married right after University, ‘sweethearts’ everyone called us, ‘destined to be’, they all proclaimed, and I believed them because despite everything, I love my husband, sure that love has dwindled from a roaring fire into a candle, but it’s there. It’s not like it used to be, but then he’s not the same, he never used to be a square, he was always the dependable type to be honest, but the man he’s turned into, that’s not the man I used to know. I digress, my husband, he’s a square, not capable of cheating on me because he’s just not that creative, O’ he’s good looking, he just doesn’t realise it, and the women he usually attracts soon lose interest when he starts to speak. It’s important you understand how much of a square he is, so you realise how out-of character would never have expected it, this affair was to me.