Bev Allen's Blog - Posts Tagged "crime-flash-fiction"
Not a Winner:-(
First off...as the great wheel of the year turns, I wish each of you peace and joy.
I entered another of these flash fiction duals that Adam keeps talking me into. The genre this time was Crime, not one of my strengths, so this time I was the loser, but here is what I wrote and I hope it will amuse you.
THE INNOCENT CHILD
“William DeMarco Kiernan! Get down here!”
Bill was sorting a pile of comics in the attic, separating the junk from potential sales. He was covered in dust and he knew from experience his mother had little sympathy with dust, so he ignored her in the hope she didn’t know where he was.
“I know you’re up there. Get down here NOW.”
No escape.
He sighed and put his treasures to one side and went to find out what had set her off this time. He mentally reviewed his recent past for criminal activity. Had he forgotten to clear his pockets before putting his jeans out to wash, left the lid off the ketchup bottle or put an empty milk carton back in the fridge?
All were possible; some were probably.
She was standing outside his bedroom and he knew instantly she had been snooping again. Her face was shading towards beetroot and her mouth had bunched itself into the round pucker which reminded Bill of a cat’s behind. She thrust out a hand and he saw she had found the wallet.
When it came to ferreting out stuff she wasn’t supposed to know about, his mother was better than a bloodhound with two noses.
“What is this?” she demanded.
“It’s a wallet, Ma,” Bill replied. “My wallet.”
“Your wallet? There’s over a thousand dollars in here. Where did you get it?”
“It’s mine. I earned it.”
“I don’t believe you,” she replied.
No, he thought, you can never bring yourself to believe anything good about me, can you.
“I earned it,” he repeated, with a shrug.
Her eyes narrowed as she glared at him, her foot tapping as she jumped to conclusions.
“Have you been stealing?” she demanded.
“Jeez, Ma!”
“I think I’ve been short a few times,” she continued. “And I bet if I ask your father he’ll say the same.”
“Yeah, right. I took a grand from you and you never noticed.”
“Don’t get smart with me, young man. I want to know where every penny of this came from.”
“I told you, I earned it. You know how much yard work I do for the neighbours. And I made a fair bit selling stuff online.”
She wasn’t listening and Bill wasn’t surprised, she never listened. He kicked himself for not having hidden the wallet better, but it never occurred to him she would raise the carpet and check every floorboard until she found the one with the clean shiny screws and take the trouble to prise it up.
“If you got this from working, the neighbours will confirm it,” she announced. “Come on, we’re going to ask them.”
“Hell, Ma! Do you want to get me fired?”
“Why would they do that? Apparently you’re doing such a great job; they’re willing to pay you over the odds.”
“Do you think I’ve stolen from them?”
She rounded on him, her face now twisted in contempt.
“Yes,” she said. “I do.”
He trailed after her, wondering for the hundredth time what he had done to make her distrust him so much. He knew she didn’t like him, he had always known that, but it had only been in the last couple of years he had realised she knew nothing of love.
Had he loved and respected her, he might have wondered why.
She dragged him to each of the neighbours to ask what they had been paying him. He watched each face as their eyes flickered from his mother to him. Not one of them had any complaint and most had nothing but compliments. Bill saw her getting more and more frustrated and annoyed.
“I told you,” he said.
“What they paid doesn’t come to a quarter of this,” she replied. “And you never made the rest selling your junk.”
She gazed about the street looking for more prey.
“I bet it was Mr and Mrs Samuels,” she said in triumph.
The Samuels had been in their early forties and childless when they moved in; Bill’s mother had approved, but she’d sneered when eighteen months later a baby had appeared.
She was sneering now as Mrs Samuel’s offered her coffee and cake in the kitchen, leaving Bill with the pretty toddler.
Bill watched them go and then bent to steal a kiss from his daughter.
(c) Bev Allen 2012
I entered another of these flash fiction duals that Adam keeps talking me into. The genre this time was Crime, not one of my strengths, so this time I was the loser, but here is what I wrote and I hope it will amuse you.
THE INNOCENT CHILD
“William DeMarco Kiernan! Get down here!”
Bill was sorting a pile of comics in the attic, separating the junk from potential sales. He was covered in dust and he knew from experience his mother had little sympathy with dust, so he ignored her in the hope she didn’t know where he was.
“I know you’re up there. Get down here NOW.”
No escape.
He sighed and put his treasures to one side and went to find out what had set her off this time. He mentally reviewed his recent past for criminal activity. Had he forgotten to clear his pockets before putting his jeans out to wash, left the lid off the ketchup bottle or put an empty milk carton back in the fridge?
All were possible; some were probably.
She was standing outside his bedroom and he knew instantly she had been snooping again. Her face was shading towards beetroot and her mouth had bunched itself into the round pucker which reminded Bill of a cat’s behind. She thrust out a hand and he saw she had found the wallet.
When it came to ferreting out stuff she wasn’t supposed to know about, his mother was better than a bloodhound with two noses.
“What is this?” she demanded.
“It’s a wallet, Ma,” Bill replied. “My wallet.”
“Your wallet? There’s over a thousand dollars in here. Where did you get it?”
“It’s mine. I earned it.”
“I don’t believe you,” she replied.
No, he thought, you can never bring yourself to believe anything good about me, can you.
“I earned it,” he repeated, with a shrug.
Her eyes narrowed as she glared at him, her foot tapping as she jumped to conclusions.
“Have you been stealing?” she demanded.
“Jeez, Ma!”
“I think I’ve been short a few times,” she continued. “And I bet if I ask your father he’ll say the same.”
“Yeah, right. I took a grand from you and you never noticed.”
“Don’t get smart with me, young man. I want to know where every penny of this came from.”
“I told you, I earned it. You know how much yard work I do for the neighbours. And I made a fair bit selling stuff online.”
She wasn’t listening and Bill wasn’t surprised, she never listened. He kicked himself for not having hidden the wallet better, but it never occurred to him she would raise the carpet and check every floorboard until she found the one with the clean shiny screws and take the trouble to prise it up.
“If you got this from working, the neighbours will confirm it,” she announced. “Come on, we’re going to ask them.”
“Hell, Ma! Do you want to get me fired?”
“Why would they do that? Apparently you’re doing such a great job; they’re willing to pay you over the odds.”
“Do you think I’ve stolen from them?”
She rounded on him, her face now twisted in contempt.
“Yes,” she said. “I do.”
He trailed after her, wondering for the hundredth time what he had done to make her distrust him so much. He knew she didn’t like him, he had always known that, but it had only been in the last couple of years he had realised she knew nothing of love.
Had he loved and respected her, he might have wondered why.
She dragged him to each of the neighbours to ask what they had been paying him. He watched each face as their eyes flickered from his mother to him. Not one of them had any complaint and most had nothing but compliments. Bill saw her getting more and more frustrated and annoyed.
“I told you,” he said.
“What they paid doesn’t come to a quarter of this,” she replied. “And you never made the rest selling your junk.”
She gazed about the street looking for more prey.
“I bet it was Mr and Mrs Samuels,” she said in triumph.
The Samuels had been in their early forties and childless when they moved in; Bill’s mother had approved, but she’d sneered when eighteen months later a baby had appeared.
She was sneering now as Mrs Samuel’s offered her coffee and cake in the kitchen, leaving Bill with the pretty toddler.
Bill watched them go and then bent to steal a kiss from his daughter.
(c) Bev Allen 2012
