Welcome back to Romance Writer’s Weekly. It’s been awhile since we’ve done a Flash Fiction so J.J. Devine insists we do it again. We need to write a scene of 500 words that contains the words, happiness, egg, and purple.
If you came from J.J. Devine’s site, welcome.
An Off Night.
Shana had one stop to make before she could return to her personal oasis, a two-bedroom beach house on the edge of the Atlantic. She pulled into the convenience store to grab dinner. Fruit Loops. Despite the blister on her right heel, she moved aisle to aisle with a stride that screamed attitude and confidence.
The middle-aged cashier, putting her steaming cup of coffee down, glanced her only customer up and down as though she wasn’t worthy of being in the store. Shana didn’t blame the woman. She’d dressed in her uniform of ripped jeans, a black hoodie, and black combat boots to create that exact reaction in people. And if they hated her outfit, they’d probably object to the purple streaks in her hair as well.
The bell rang on the door and another customer stepped inside. The teenager’s worn leather jacket and the snarl on his lip were channeling James Dean, a blond James Dean. She would have ignored him if he hadn’t started casing the place. Her chest tightened, but she continued with her screw the world attitude. The kid eyed the cashier and then her, his hands in the pockets of his jacket.
Damn it. She needed a few hours of television and maybe some Grand Theft Auto before catching up on her sleep. She glanced down at the box of fruity happiness she might not be able to buy and frowned.
Before she could get into a better position, the kid pulled out a gun. “All the cash,” he screamed at the cashier.
He pointed the gun toward Shana. “On the floor.”
She lifted her arms up and puckered her lips as though she was the girlfriend of a gang leader and guns in her face were a normal occurrence. She remained standing. The cashier was sobbing and moving too slow.
“Hurry up.” The boy’s words came out cocky with a haze of hesitation. Tension tightened his features, he hopped a bit on his feet, his body preparing to run.
Would he shoot? Shana didn’t want to die, she didn’t want the cashier to die, and damn, she didn’t want the kid to die. His finger was on the trigger. Every decision counted.
She pushed the cashier to ground and grabbed the hot coffee. She flung it into the face of the kid and screamed to the cashier to duck. Coffee sprayed across the kid’s face. He hollered in pain. A bullet rang out and shattered into the egg case. Crap.
It only took a few seconds to have her own gun in her hand, pointed at the suspect. “Police. Put your weapon down.”
The kid, his face red and dripping, pointed his gun at Shana. His hand shook, maybe pain, maybe rage. For a solid fifteen seconds, they stared each other down. Her heart punched into her ribs. She held still, determined to do the right thing. Sirens sounded in the distance.
One shot. One decision. Blood everywhere.
Hope you liked it! Check out the story Carolyn Spear came up with. It’ll be worth it.