CAUGHT IN THE ACT
I see him every weekday morning at seven sharp, going up the front path then out along the street. I’m always washing up my breakfast things about that time. The kitchens on this side of the street are at the front of the house, living rooms at the back.
I know nothing about the man who has lived next door to me for the past three or four months. We’ve never spoken, even on the odd occasion when we’ve both been out in the back garden, or out front putting out the rubbish and recycling stuff the night before collection. I have always acknowledged him with a nod, and sometimes a polite ‘hello’. But it is never reciprocated and now I don’t bother. Some people like to be left alone.
After seeing nobody other than him come and go in all the time he has lived next door, I think it’s fairly safe to assume that he lives alone, no wife or partner, no family, no pets.
He always seems to wear the same things – black pinstripe suit, black shoes, and black bowler hat and always carries a black briefcase and folded black umbrella, even on days when there hasn’t been a cloud in the sky, like today. That’s why I’ve had nicknamed him ‘Mr Black’... Mr Black, Man of Mystery.
Today, for some unfathomable reason, my curiosity just gets the better of me and when I’m pretty sure he isn’t going to return for something he’s forgotten, I go out into the back garden, hop over the hedge and have a peep through his living room window.
The blinds are partly drawn and through the gap I can see enough to realise it isn’t decked out like any living room I’ve ever seen before.
What I’m looking at is a kind of waiting room. Sitting around on hardback chairs, either reading newspapers or a magazines, are around half-a-dozen more ‘Mr Blacks’, absolutely identical to each other and faithful to the original.
At first I’m startled and I take two steps back in case they have seen me. But they appear not to notice. I stand my ground because there’s something really odd about them, and not just the fact that they are perfect clones of my neighbour.
I peep through again and see that they never seem to blink, and neither do they appear to breathe. They are completely motionless. They don’t look up, but carry on ‘reading’ whatever is in front of them.
From somewhere in the room I hear a faint whirring sound. A small camera mounted in the far corner of the room swivels towards me and focuses. A red light blinks on and off a couple of times, and then stays on.
I decide to make myself scarce. I turn to go, but guess who I bump into?
Comments
Linda Wigzell Cress | August 8, 2012 - 18:37
Intriguing ... you can't leave it there!
Linda
sue dinum | August 8, 2012 - 19:11
I guess I could develop some of these short shorts, but I was trying to keep them all under 500 for easy reading. But maybe I should take you up on your suggestion. Thanks very much for all your reading and commenting tonight, Linda.
Trev
Silver Spun Sand | August 9, 2012 - 19:31
I agree, with Linda, Trevor. You can't possibly leave it there;-) Much enjoyed.
Tina
sue dinum | August 9, 2012 - 20:33
Thanks for reading and commenting, Tina. I'll give it some thought. Glad you enjoyed.
Trev
Bear | August 10, 2012 - 08:14
A strange tale but, as the reader, I felt a little let down at the end. You seem to be quite a prolific writer so a stinger can't be expected in every story but this has a very weak ending. I wonder if it's perhaps an idea that you are pursuing that could be turned into a longer story or several parts? It would be a shame to leave it there with 'guess who I bumped into?'
Okay, so that's the criticism bit, but I like your stories, short and readable with an enjoyable twist. Well written too. It's difficult to write within a limit of words and, from what I've seen so far, you're doing damn good job of it.
Bear
sue dinum | August 10, 2012 - 18:56
Hi Bear, yeah, I guess it is a bit weak at the end, a bit of a cop-out. But as you so rightly say, it's difficult to satisfy all the requirements of a good short story in 300-500 words. I sometimes try my hand at these because a change is good as a rest, and anyway, it's all good practice. I know I don't bring it off every time, probably hardly ever, actually, but it's great fun. Really respect your honesty and thanks for reading and the generous comment.
Trev
denni1 | February 10, 2013 - 09:35
Well? Who do you bump into, then .. Dx
sue dinum | February 10, 2013 - 16:02
Ah, that would be telling.
Wes | February 18, 2013 - 15:53
Sue, at 477 words defiantly a Flash piece.Have to go with Bear though on this one. The twist at the end...eh could use something different. I hope you don't mind if I play about.
You write: I decide to make myself scarce. I turn to go, but guess who I bump into?
My two cents:
I decide to make myself scarce. I turn to run, only to find, Mr Black waiting.
I decide to make myself scarce. I turn to go. Mr Black is waiting.
Deciding to make myself scarce. I turn to go. Mr Black is waiting.
Deciding, digression is the better part of valor, I turn to go.
Mr Black is waiting.
As I turn to go. Mr Black is waiting.
I turn to go, but Mr Black is waiting.
I turn to go. Mr Black is waiting...Wes
Ummm that was more like four cents...Wes
sue dinum | February 18, 2013 - 20:54
I like all of those Wes. I guess I just wanted to avoid stating the obvious. A few of my flash fiction, twist-in-the-tail stories (this one and Bathing Cap included) were worked up from a children's book of horror tales that I bought for a pound. None of them were above 200 words. I just worked them up into something bigger. it was quite a fun exercise.
thanks for your suggestions - all neat and plausable.
Trev
Wes | February 18, 2013 - 23:17
I know what your doing I like to do the same thing. lol
But admittedly this time, with this story and that ending <--- shaking head...Wes