Defiantly Literate

Babble, Rant, Repeat.

#MenageMonday Challenge – Week 23

Three prompts living under one challenge roof?

Welcome to #MenageMonday!

Week 23

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Rules Recap

  • This is a Flash Fiction challenge. Your story must be a minimum of 100 words, maximum of 200 words.
  • Incorporate each of the three prompts into your story.
  • Post your story into the comments of this post.
  • Include your word count (or be excluded from judging).
  • Please include your Twitter handle or email.
  • The contest opens at 7 A.M. and closes at 8 P.M. Eastern Time.
  • Generally speaking, the winner will be revealed Tuesday evening, huzzah!

So what do you get for all your time and effort, you ask? Badges, of course. (What, you thought this was a funded operation?) #MenageMonday awards THREE (squeeee!) badges each week:

  • There is the undisputed CHAMP. Rather self explanatory.
  • There is the JUDGE’S PET, for best use of the Judge’s prompt.
  • Last but not least, the JUDGE gets a badge, because Judges need love, too.

 

Our Judge for Week 23:

Pubwriter, tweeter, and of author of THE MIGHTY T and CANALS

@EvPowers

Everett Powers

In the mood for an action adventure tale or a story to keep you up all night? Find Ev’s books here: http://amzn.to/jrzxT0

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Challenge Time!

Your mission, should you choose to accept it:

The Photo:

The Phrase: “You son of a bitch, I’ll kill you for [ ]”

The Judge’s Prompt: A man wakes up handcuffed to a hospital bed with his left leg in a cast. The cop who’s supposed to be on guard enters the room with his gun drawn.

The clock is ticking. Good writing and good luck!

Category: Menage Monday
  • Cara says:

    I woke with a start, a persistent beep making my ears twitch. I tried to roll over, but my left leg felt weirdly heavy and some toothy monster held onto my right hand.

    An explosion sounded nearby and I jolted up, yelping in pain. A cast covered my leg from mid-thigh to ankle. A handcuff bit into my wrist and held me chained to a hospital bed.

    “What the hell?”

    How had I gotten here? Last I remembered I’d been on Harden, overseeing the construction. We had the barricades, the cement trucks and—

    The door burst open and a uniformed cop rushed in, shoving the door shut and locking it.

    “What’s going on?” I yelled.

    He whipped his gun up, wild eyes locked on me.

    “I’m supposed to protect you.”

    He whimpered as the door shuddered behind him.

    “She’s coming for you,” he whispered.

    The door shattered. Something huge and dark came straight through it. The cop slid across the floor, dead eyes open.

    “There you are.”

    Scaly green skin, soulless gold eyes—I’d seen her before. Just once. Right before I’d ordered the pond drained.

    “You son of a bitch, I’ll kill you for disturbing my home,” she hissed.

    @caramichaels
    200 inelgible words

    27 February 2012 at 10:07
  • Nellie says:

    The voices woke Dunn up so that he was staring up at the white ceiling in the white room. The constant droning beep of the monitor was annoying him. There was something wrapped around his head and his leg felt like it was weighted down. He reached out to touch it but his hand jerked to a halt a few inches above the rails on the bed.

    He stared at the handcuffs keeping him in place. “What the hell?” He looked toward the suspension that held his leg in a cast.

    Movement outside of the door jerked his head up and he saw a cop come in, service revolver held towards the ground. “Oh, you’re awake. Pity about that.” He grinned but the teeth were too broad and big. They looked unnatural, like a pair of full dentures. “You shouldn’t have come out to the lake. But you had to stick your nose in where it didn’t belong.”

    Dunn frowned as he looked at the cop. “What are you talking about?”

    The cop winked and his eyes turned a sour yellow.

    Dunn’s eyes narrowed. “You son of a bitch, I’ll kill you for digging up the mound. All of you!”

    200 words
    @solimond

    27 February 2012 at 10:34
  • @ModernBard1024 says:

    (Let’s try this again, with my head on straight)

    The place where his partner had died was burned in Jack’s mind, clear as a photograph. The drainage pond, the sludge on top driven to the edges by the disturbance of the car plowing into the water. Striped warning signs, not even placed yet, piled neatly along the road. The dry ground didn’t even have skid marks on it, the car’s brake lines had been cut. Over and over in his head, “You son of a bitch, I’ll kill you for this.”

    Jack tugged on the cuff on his right wrist, looking up as his hospital room guard closed the door behind him, sidearm drawn. “Thought you guys had me, eh? Damn shame you didn’t drown too. Now I gotta make a mess.” Roe shook his head.

    The left side of the blanket beside Jack’s cast leg peaked just slightly as his bullet ripped through the fabric, hitting Roe between the eyes. Jack lifted his hand from under the blanket, the smoking Ruger clasped in a white-knuckled grip of pent up rage.

    “Stupid fuck, I wasn’t in the car with him.” Mission accomplished. He reached for his call button. “You can come get this cast off, it itches like hell.”

    @ModernBard1024
    200 words
    Nancy P.

    27 February 2012 at 11:16
  • Kimberly Gould says:

    I woke with the worst hangover. The light streaming in seared my brain and I pulled my hand to cover my eyes. My hand stopped in a jangle of metal . I pulled, but whatever held my wrist didn’t budge. My nostrils flared, inhaling an unfamiliar anti-septic cleaner. My place was half-sty, where was I? My eyes squeezed shut, I listened to soft foot steps and moved my free hand to the bonded one, finding a metal cuff. What in the hell?

    A sudden bang roared in my ears. I cracked my eyes to see a man in blue holding a pistol. Was that the bang?

    “You son of a bitch. I will never forgive you for what you did to my sister. But you are going to live to see justice.”

    The second bang was much louder—definitely the gun. The first might have been the door.

    “What is going on?”

    “That’s what we’re trying to figure out,” the cop said, dropping something light onto my lap. It made and odd sound, and I squinted to see my phone and my leg in a cast and an IV in my wrist. “That’s our only clue.”

    Traffic pylons? What happened last night?

    @kimmydonn
    200 words
    Continuing this picprompt: http://picprompt.blogspot.com/2012/01/kimmydonn-week-86-love-me.html

    27 February 2012 at 11:20
  • Kathleen says:

    I wake up, head pounding. Strange noises echo through my mind. Bright lights blind me momentarily, but I begin to focus on my surroundings. White room. IV bags. Cheep TV anchored to the wall. I’m in a hospital. I move to sit up, but pain sears my leg and my wrist catches on something.

    Handcuffed to a hospital bed with a cast on my leg. Great.

    The last thing I remember is using the bolt cutters on the chain. Then nothing. Blank, like it’s all been wiped clean.

    The door opens and in walks a cop. His gun is aimed at me.

    “You son of a bitch,” he says to me, spittle flying from his mough. His dark eyes burrow into mine. “I’ll kill you for what you’ve caused.”

    I recognize the sounds now. Gunshots. Screams. People run past the door still open.

    “What’s going on?” I ask. My heart beats hard against my chest. My breath quickens. I smell gun powder in the air.

    “You did this.”

    A single gun shot fills my world. I don’t understand what’s happening. All I did was free research monkeys…

    @Kathleen_Doyle – 187 words

    27 February 2012 at 11:23
  • Wendy Reid says:

    “You know, there’s a reward out for you. They’re offering 10 grand for your head…literally,” said the cop, the hatred oozing from his tongue as he spoke. His hand began to tremble as he thought about his partner…about what possibly could have been going through his mind just moments before he plunged to his death. The washed-out road held no warnings, no signs of danger. This piece of shit was to blame. He wanted me dead…he had no idea that it had been Brian driving. And now my partner was dead and this bastard was lying in a warm comfy hospital bed.

    Pete closed his eyes and imagined the faces of Brian’s wife and children, as they were told of his death, the shock setting in as they realized that he was never coming home again…ever.

    He opened his eyes and looked into the soul of his partner’s killer.

    “You son of a bitch, I’ll kill you for free…for Brian and his family.”

    The gun went off, twice, hitting the prisoner in the face, splattering brain matter and bone fragments everywhere. It didn’t take long for security to rush in and tackle Brian to the floor. He had no regrets.

    200 words
    @wendyreid2

    27 February 2012 at 11:56
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  • Ryan Strohman says:

    “You purposely ran through those construction horses, didn’t you?” Her voice was thick with anxiety. She had just figured it all out.

    Officer Albert’s gun was leveled at Joe, but he had obviously given up any idea of escaping. He’d look like a fool limping down the hall dragging the bed, which was securely tethered to his arm by the other’s handcuffs.

    “You son of a bitch, I’ll kill you for making me an accomplice.”

    The stupid nurse would not shut up. Albert turned his gun on her, fired, and then directed his aim back on Joe, not even bothering to watch her writhe in the last moments of her life.

    “You’re one cruel man, Albert.”

    “It’s part of the job.”

    “You won’t get away with this.”

    “I already have. Your car ran down the Senator. You were in it, albeit indisposed. The map of the parade was conveniently stashed in the glove box, including the highlighted construction zone. That idiot nurse gave me access to your room. Your prints will be on this gun.”

    “There’s one problem, Officer.”

    “What’s that?”

    “The call button I’ve been depressing this whole time. Everyone at the nurse’s desk just heard your entire confession.”

    200 words
    @rastrohman

    27 February 2012 at 12:46
  • Sheilagh Lee says:

    I awoke puzzled. Why was I handcuffed to a bed and my left leg in a cast? My last memory was working on the highway. The ditch water began to bubble leaching into my skin, then this.

    “You son of a bitch I could kill you for what you did to my partner.” the policeman who was guarding me shouted.

    “I don’t know what you are talking about.” I shouted back confused but he kept coming gun in hand.

    Fear course through my veins and then an eerie calm as I began to metamorphose. My legs elongated and the cast burst off my leg with great force, hitting the wall across the room. The cuff burst from my arm, ripping like it was paper. The momentum propelled me off the bed and suddenly I discovered I had a long green tail that twirled, knocking the gun from the policeman’s hand.

    “Don’t hurt me.” the cop begged.

    My heart beat fast. Was I a monster now? Somehow this was not fun anymore. The change happened quickly, I transformed back into man and it hurt.

    “Shoot me.” I begged. I smiled feeling the bullet hit my brain, as the end came swiftly.

    @SweetSheil
    200 words

    27 February 2012 at 12:56
  • Everett Powers says:

    Oh man, this is going to be tough! You guys rock!

    27 February 2012 at 13:21
  • Stacy Bennett-Hoyt says:

    The beeping machinery taunted me, chasing away oblivion. Squinting, I noted with dismay the cast on my leg and the handcuff that held my wrist to the hospital bed. I rattled it, remembering nothing but the urgent need to escape.

    “Hello, Jack.” My attention snapped to the approaching officer, his badge glinting against the black uniform, a gun in his hand. “Take a long drive off a short road?” He laughed.

    That smile set off a cascade of memories that my mind scrambled to piece together: The flash of water-filled ditch out of the corner of my eye, scattered orange-and-white safety barriers, and Johnny standing there smiling maliciously as he watched my truck careen off the edge of the broken road.

    “You son of a bitch. I’ll kill you for this, Johnny.” I lunged against my confinement.

    “It’s a good thing you’re still alive, brother, because it wasn’t in your jalopy. Where is it?” He leaned closer, his gun so close to my face I could smell the acrid iron and smoke.

    “Forget it. I’d rather die.” I spat my hatred. My heart pounded with the certainty that I would come to regret those words.

    195 words
    @Rowanwolf66

    27 February 2012 at 13:54
  • Jen says:

    The hollow clank of the metal on metal pulls him out of the blackness. He’s handcuffed. His mouth is cotton-soft, full of so much dryness. His leg is heavy, a plaster cast from toe to hip weighing it down. He blinks away the swirling unconsciousness. As he surfaces, disjointed pictures play like an old movie in his mind.

    *blink*

    The car is revving out of control. Sierra is screaming at him to stop, but he can’t.

    *blink*

    Black smoke belches from the engine. He smells blood. Sierra is quiet – too still – and he panics, but the steering wheel pins him.

    *blink*

    Orange and white sawhorses are scattered on the ground. The car’s engine ticks and footsteps crunch in the gravel.

    *blink*

    click

    “You son of a bitch, I’ll kill you for this,” a voice says behind him.
    He turns his head on a rough pillow.

    Sierra’s face is a bloody mess as she enters the room, but she holds the gun level. He squeezes his eyes shut, wondering who’ll shoot first.

    “I don’t think so, fucker,” Sierra slurs.

    *blink*

    Sierra’s gun clicks.

    *blink*

    bang

    “Mark,” Sierra says, her voice soft and closer to him. “It’s going to be okay.”

    199
    @JenD_Author

    27 February 2012 at 14:00
  • Wakefield Mahon says:

    Turq awoke with a splitting headache, handcuffed and sporting a leg cast. As the haze lifted, he saw the barrel of a standard issue service pistol pointed directly at him.

    “Now that is rich. This planet must have a flair for the ironic, you a peace officer?”

    “You son of a bitch I’m gonna kill you for following me here. I was doing well, starting over. Why did you have to go ruin everything?”

    “We are all sons of the Bitch. I’m not surprised you’ve forgotten who you are. You always were a troublesome pup, Grach.”

    “My name is Greg now. Every twenty-eight days I get reminder of what I was. You show up and cause an accident down by the river. So much for discretion! Why did you come after me?”

    “It’s time for you to come home. If you stay here much longer, each full moon will become more violent. Your rage will become unstoppable; you will start to kill the people you claim to love. Come back to Sirius where we can take care of you.”

    “You were always the favorite of the litter, you wouldn’t understand.”

    A silver bullet in the brain stopped Turq from responding.

    200 words
    @WakefieldMahon

    27 February 2012 at 14:42
  • Jeffrey Hollar says:

    Family Dishonored

    Xiang awoke in a strange bed, his left leg encased by hardened plaster. Had he broken a limb? How unexpectedly enlightening!

    He disliked the metallic bracelet about his wrist. By whose authority had a prince of the Royal House been restrained?!? Oh…wait…since he had adopted human form, he was but another nondescript Asian man to these lesser beings.

    A uniformed individual burst into the room. Xiang was shocked this personage held what appeared to be a weapon. Such an affront!

    The barbarian spoke, “You son of a bitch, I’ll kill you for what you did to my partner! Ran him down like a dog! They don’t have roadblocks in your part of the world, gook?”

    Xiang suddenly recalled a barricade of sorts, portable it seemed, as more segments were lying by the roadside. He remembered being far too drunk to either stop or even slow down. Then…nothing…until he awoke here.

    Well, enough novelty, Xiang decided. With a thought, he swelled to his full 20 foot height. His bronze scales sparkled in the artificial light. He crashed through the flimsy wall and winged toward home. His father would be most displeased that he had, once again, brought dishonor to the family.

    200 words @klingorengi

    27 February 2012 at 17:13
  • Siobhan Muir says:

    “You son of a bitch, I’ll kill you for this!”

    The voice was muffled by the hospital room door, but Cassie didn’t wait to see how it would turn out.

    She threw her shoulder against the door and found the guarding officer with his gun drawn on the bed. Sheldon Wilks, serial killer, glared back with unconcerned malevolence in his eyes. A cast encased his entire left leg and both his hands rose into the air, cuffed to either side of the metal frame. He looked like some creepy version of the Karate Kid’s Crane pose.

    “What’s going on, Officer Kellison?”

    “He did it! I just found out from Daniels. This son of a bitch killed my kid sister!” Fury contorted the officer’s face, but his hands and eyes remained steady.

    Cassie cursed her partner. “Yeah, we know he did, but we gotta let a jury convict him.”
    “He’ll get off! He’ll –”

    “She was so tasty,” Sheldon taunted with a mocking grin.

    Fuck.

    Cassie launched herself at Kellison as he fired. They hit the floor like a discarded pile of caution barricades, wrestling for the piece.

    “Jeez, I hope you missed.” The gurgling laughter told her he hadn’t.

    Shit.

    200 #WIP500 words
    @SiobhanMuir

    27 February 2012 at 17:20
  • J. Whitworth Hazzard says:

    THE MESSENGER

    Detective Morello walked into the Maggie’s hospital room with a Beretta drawn. He peeked down the hallway on both sides to make sure it was clear then gently pulled the door shut. He smiled at the badly broken woman lying on bed. Her black and purple face and broken leg didn’t look quite as bad in the warm light of the late afternoon.
    “Hi Maggie,” he said. “I just came to check on you and make sure your husband wasn’t around.”
    Maggie tried to form the words around her fractured jaw, “You son… of a bitch, I’ll kill… you for…” Tears of pain ran down her cheeks as her curse fell to whispers.
    “Oh sweetie, it’s OK.” Detective Morello picked up the Nurse’s call button and yanked it out of the wall with a snap. “It’s not going to hurt much longer. Recognize this?”
    He held up the sleek black gun and pulled out a silencer from inside his jacket. Maggie’s eyes betrayed her panic, as the detective screwed the silencer on her husband’s gun.
    “I hope Jake gets the message this time.” He gently traced the barrel up to Maggie’s liver and pulled the trigger. “Assassins aren’t welcome here.”

    200 words
    @zombiemechanics

    27 February 2012 at 18:52
  • Jeff Tsuruoka says:

    The training takes over. Cliché but true.
    The young, redheaded cop drew his gun.
    I hit him with the voice.
    “Un-cuff me from this bed and we’re gonna walk out of the hospital.”
    We both looked at my left leg in it’s cast.
    “New plan. You walk. I’ll lean.”
    The cop opened his mouth. I added the look to the voice and he shut it.
    He looked at the closet but I shook him off.
    “No time for pants, Let’s move, Rusty.”

    Outside I snatched a crutch from a guy by the door.
    “You son of a bitch,” he growled. “I’ll kill you for…”
    I gave him the finger and he dummied up.
    I left Rusty behind and hobbled to the park.
    The bomb was amateur hour. Suitcase. Trashcan. Bench. Two latte-drinking judges.
    I flung the suitcase at a nearby drainage ditch.
    Boom! Brackish water flew.
    The damage? Overturned roadwork barriers near the ditch.
    Two sodden judges eyeballed me.
    “I was never here,” I said.
    Rusty stumbled up as I turned to leave.
    “Congratulations. You’re a hero.”
    A warm breeze tickled my bare ass as I started towards the hospital.

    197 words
    @JTsuruoka

    27 February 2012 at 19:15
  • H.L. Pauff says:

    The bright light filtering through the blinds woke me. The white ceiling and walls looked unfamiliar. As I tried to sit up, a pair of handcuffs restricted me and I realized my left leg was in a cast.

    “How did I end up in the hospital?” I wondered. I couldn’t remember a thing.

    Suddenly the door burst open and a tall man wearing a black police uniform rushed into the room.

    “Don’t move or I’ll shoot,” he grunted, pointing a gun at me.

    “Please, please, don’t,” I pleaded. I…I…didn’t do anything; I didn’t…wait a minute. Dave?”

    He squeezed the trigger and a burst of water hit me in the face as he cackled like a hyena.

    “You son of a bitch, I’ll kill you for this. Scared the crap out of me,” I said.

    “You should have seen your face. I should probably get the nurse so she can clean your sheets,” he responded with a giant smile.

    “Very funny. Get these cuffs off me. Where’d you get the costume anyway?”

    “Oh, those cuffs aren’t mine,” he said, his smile disappearing. “You ran over a construction worker yesterday when you were drunk. I thought this might cheer you up some.”

    200 words
    @hlpauff

    27 February 2012 at 19:43
  • Cara says:

    #MenageMonday is now closed.

    Thanks to everyone for coming out to play and good luck!

    27 February 2012 at 20:02
    • J.M. Blackman says:

      I’m so sad that I missed the cut-off, but it was still a lot of fun to read all the responses. These are great! I won’t miss next week!

      27 February 2012 at 22:02

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