Night Music: Imagine

December 30, 2021


Now Where Will My Squirrels Sit?

December 30, 2021

Flash Fiction: Window of Opportunity

December 30, 2021

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Standing on the steps of the ancient Town Hall, she faced the battery of microphones that reared up at her like a porcupine’s back. “We have a window of opportunity now,” she said, turning first left and then right to ensure that as many cameras as possible caught her face as she spoke the historic words. “We have a chance to bring peace to this benighted region of earth, a chance we must grasp or lose it for another generation.”

Click. Flash. Whirrr. Click. Whirr. Flash.

A sudden breeze caught a lock of her hair and, as she tried to compose her thoughts to bring forth more statesman-like sentences, she found herself in the future, watching herself as she would appear on the six o’clock news that evening, as her hair was mussed by the wind. Her right hand moved swiftly to her forehead and dealt firmly with the straying strand.

Click. Flash. Whirrr. Click. Whirr. Flash.

“Rarely have we witnessed such cooperation from so many disparate groups. Rarely have we been privileged to see such hard won handshakes across a table.” She paused, the slightest of smiles on her face, her eyes widening as she sought out and found a favoured photographer.

Click. Flash. Whirrr. Click. Whirr. Flash.

Now, moulding her face into that stern and steely gaze that scared the most experienced diplomats, she spoke again. “But there is much serious work still be done, much more to accomplished before we can rest on our laurels. But we can be proud today.”

Click. Flash. Whirrr. Click. Whirr. Flash.

She paused, pleased with her speech so far; and even more pleased with the agreement she had forged in those ancient halls. It was an agreement she would sure would win her the nomination.

Click. Flash. Whirrr. Click. Whirr. Flash.

As she raised her arms in a triumphant wave, she caught a glimpse of an upstairs window across the square, a shadow, the slightest movement.

Click. Flash. Whirrr. Click. Whirr. Flash.

The crack of the rifle was buried beneath the sounds of the press.

Click. Flash. Whirrr. Click. Whirr. Flash.

Click. Flash. Whirrr. Click. Whirr. Flash.