Flash Fiction Friday! (17/08)

Hi guys I haven't done one of these in a while... and there's no time like the present to start! And hopefully I'll keep at it this time. I did ask people to give me writing prompts, or picture prompts, but I received neither. So I just started writing, and this is what I came up with.



I hope that you like it, and don't forget to tell me what you think!




You’re
Not Safe





Mark
sat alone on the bench in the park. It had just turned 1am when two police
officers walked over to him, shining their flash lights in his face. He was
shivering, rubbing at his arms to keep warm, and his teeth chattered in his
slack-jawed mouth.

“Tell them they can’t have me!” he
shouted. “Tell them!”

“Who?” one of the officers asked.

“They won’t listen to me!” he said,
jolting upright to his feet.

“Please, sir, calm down,” the other
officer said.

Mark didn’t look at either of the officers;
he stared out into the dark of the trees across from the bench.

“Can we have your name?” an officer
asked.

“He named me. I’m his. He named me! I’m his!” he said,
looking out into the dark, and then down at his feet. “I want to go home now.”

“Wait. Is he the missing kid?”

The officers shared a glance, and then
looked back at Mark, and the puddle at the bottom of his feet.

“You haven’t been swimming have you?”
one of the officers asked.

“Born again,” he whimpered, falling into
a ball on the ground, and wrapping his hands around the back of his head. “Just
make them go away.”

“Please can you stand up for us?”

Mark shook his head.

“Okay. Well, can you answer this? Is
your name Mark Jenkins?”

Mark nodded, taking a deep breath; he
turned and looked up at the officers, making eye contact. “Yes.”

The officer pulled out a folded piece of
paper from his breast pocket. He unfolded it to reveal a missing persons
poster, it read: Mark Jenkins. Missing.
State Mental Institute. Apprehend on sight. The officer immediately reached
for his gun. “Okay, Mark. If you just get up from the ground slowly, we can
take you home.”

Mark’s face changed. “Home?” he said, turning his head and
smiling. “Home. You don’t know where my home is!”

“We do. Just come with us, and we’ll
take you. Okay, Mark.”

“Mark?” he said, grinning. “Oh, he’s
long gone.” He slowly found himself standing, head-to-head with the police
officers.

“Come with us, or we’ll have to taser
you.”




Mark woke the next day, his body numb
from the sharp shocks and the wounds in his abdomen. He blinked a couple of
times and found himself in the sterile white room with the padded walls. This
was the next level. He’d never been here before. Maybe he’d be safer here.

“But you’re not safe yet,” he said to
himself. “They’re killing you.”

He stroked the skin over his stomach,
playing with the trail of pubic hair going down from his naval. He brought his
hand back up, and tickled himself. He smiled. The last time he smiled, before
he forced his hand and fingers into his stomach.
“You’re safe,” he said, moments before
life fleeted from his eyes and his whole body twitched, knocking his hand further
into himself. 




Joseph Eastwood




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