As has become painfully clear to constant readers of this blog, and as exemplified by the woeful lack of a “Columbo Villian of the Week” on Wednesday, life has gotten on top of me. And so this week I find myself – for the first time since I started – running a little dry on ideas for Friday Flash Fiction.

So that’s it. Well not quite.

My pride will not let me lie down. Crap though the results may be. And so, with a big conspiratorial wink, this week I present the Elevator Entry:

Elevator Friday Flash Fiction
By Neil Beynon

Her shadow was long on the ground when she reached the snow kissed bank. The amber sun low on the horizon looked like it was falling off the edge of the world. The faint miasma from the near by processing plant the only blemish on the otherwise crisp November sky.

She fell through her memory to the last time she had stood there gazing over at the other side of the river. Hakon had been there then. They’d driven to the river in his gleaming Audi and eaten fast food from the pier as the rain had poured down on the roof of the car. She’d dropped a bit of a pickle from her burger onto the leather seats. He’d not been impressed.

That had been a year ago. An anniversary of sorts. Of course he wasn’t there anymore. Hakon’s folly, one of his many, had been to drive too fast. He’d driven right off the edge of the near by cliffs as he tried to take a corner at twice the recommended speed.

The body had been in quite a mess when she’d seen it, when she’d identified it. The silly bastard had still been wearing that ridiculous “Life is a wheel” t-shirt, turned out it was right: when Hakon’s wheels had left the road he’d lost his life as well as his car.

The thought made her smile, a bitter sweet raising of the corner of her mouth that did not reach above her cheeks.

“A penny for them dear Sarah,” said a voice behind her.She jumped.

“Easy tiger,” said the new arrival resting his hands on her hips. Warm, calloused hands that made her tingle even through her clothes. “How you doing?”

“Alright, I didn’t think you’d know where to find me?” she said.

“I told you once before: I remember everything,” he smiled.

“A cliché,” she sniffed.

“You still feel guilty about it?”
She nodded. “Sometimes I feel so bad I can’t breath. Like I have the bends or something.”
“When we were being bad, messing round…”
“When I was bad,” she corrected. “You were single.”
“Whatever,” he replied. “It wasn’t like he was the perfect gentleman, else I wouldn’t have been able to land you.”
“I’m not a fish and I wasn’t the perfect lady either.”

He grinned lopsidedly at her. “No you were The Lady – or at least his and he didn’t look after you, so he lost you.”
“It was just such a horrible way for him to find out,” she said.

Her blackberry beeped and she sighed.
“You still getting them?” he asked.
“Yes – SCL69 is determined to let me know how much they know, how much trouble I’m in.”
“There’s nothing to know, we did nothing. He always drove to quickly.”

“Do you really believe that?” she asked, turning to look at him as she did so. “Because I don’t. I see his face everywhere: in the mirror, in shop windows, in the reflection of car bonnets. A ghost in the glass, staring back at me, accusing me. That kicked dog expression on his face.

The Blackberry rang.

“You have a caller,” he said nodding at the device. He stepped away, picking some stones to skim whilst she answered the call.

“ Hello Sarah.”
“Hullo – who is this?”
“Tell me Sarah, has it all started to go wrong yet?”
“What?”
“Has your life started to slide away in chunks like wet cake? I know it will.”

She threw the blackberry into the river.

“Fuck!!!!”

“That’ll be expensive.”

“They’ve managed to get my phone number,” she said flatly.
“It’s just a joke,” he said. “It doesn’t mean anything.”
“Look I’m going to go home,” she said. “You coming?”

“No – I’m going to stay here for a bit.” He watched her drive off from the car park before returning to skimming his stones. When the car was out of hearing he took the knife out of his pocket, it still smelt of brake fluid, and threw it in the river.

Then whistling he went over the stepping stones to the other side. It would be an eventful Christmas, the light from the setting sun bounced of the surface of the river in a rainbow cascade. Eventful indeed, he could feel it in the water.

*********

Alternatively Futurismic has a round up of Friday Free Fiction (including some proper Friday Flash from the fellow fictioneers).