First Fist Fight

‘You must never hit a girl, or anyone smaller than you,’ his mother had drilled into him as a boy. The advice had always sounded odd to Felix, who would no more consider hitting a girl, than he would speak to one. Perhaps it was that he had seen enough confrontation at home. ‘Your Father and I don’t get along very well any more,’ his Mother had said, which had seemed a somewhat inadequate version of the truth, even to his eight-year-old ears. Or maybe violence was just not part of his nature. Whatever the reason, Felix knew that he preferred to avoid the possibility of conflict at all costs.

It wasn’t until the advanced age of thirty-seven that he first hit a man. That man was his wife’s cousin, Jonathan.

Jonathan was something of an expert at fixing computers, according to Felix’s wife, Clara. Jonathan also knew about the unblocking of sinks, the laying of loft insulation and the installation of additional plug sockets. Felix knew about coronal mass ejections and their effect on space weather systems, but he conceded that he did not know how to rid their home computer of the virus it was infected with. He was glad his wife had such a useful relative, one who lived so close by and was so happy to help.

Felix returned home that lunchtime to pick up his forgotten sandwich. Clara was at the kitchen sink, rinsing some glasses. Jonathan stood behind her, his hand unmistakably inside her blouse, cupping her right breast. It was quickly removed as Felix entered the room, and there was a moment when they all stopped, and waited for Felix to react, or to say nothing and to do whatever he had come back to do, and go on his way. When his fist connected with jaw, nobody was as surprised as Felix himself. Still, Jonathan had a good three inches on him in height, so he reasoned that his actions were entirely justified.

****

This story is a longer version of a flash I entered into the Ad Hoc Fiction contest a couple of weeks ago. I think this longer version works a bit better. Hope you enjoyed reading it. 🙂

Header image courtesy of Pixabay

Two Small Fictions

Sorry it has been a bit quiet on here of late.

I thought I would share two little pieces here to brighten up your Wednesday, and would love to know what you think of them. I seem to write a lot of hapless male characters. I don’t know what that says about me, or the men I know!

Becky

To Fall at the First Moustache

Eric strode up to the reception desk of the large office building and announced his presence. He flashed his winning smile at the seated man, who regarded him with indifference. Eric was thirty minutes early for the interview, but reasoned that this would demonstrate organisation, punctuality and general suitability for the role of Financial Controller of Smithstone and Hasselbach, major players in the sanitaryware industry.

The seated man wore a moustache so large, it could have been employed as a draft excluder in a previous existence. It was impossible to see his lips move as he muttered something derisory in Eric’s direction.

“I’m sorry, what did you say? I’m here for the interview.”

“I’m sure you are sir, but the office you require is at the other end of the street. I say office, its more of a portacabin really. Good luck finding it!” He shouted at Eric’s retreating form.

 

Box-Ticking Exercise

Russell glanced at his watch. He was pleased to see that he was a full twenty minutes early for the café meeting, giving him a decided advantage and the chance to assess the lie of the land before she arrived. He took out his laptop and ran over his list of essential criteria and specifications one more time, and tapped the business card holder in his breast pocket. With time to spare, he sat back to sip his coffee.

Ten minutes later, she burst into the room like a bulldog released from a leash, surveying the assembled patrons with wide-eyed excitement. Her cheeks were reddened, and large sweat patches were visible at her chest and underarm areas. He recognised her instantly from her online photograph. Noting that she had failed on point eight of his essentials list, he slipped unnoticed from his chair and left by the back exit.

 

©Rebecca Field 2017

Header image courtesy of Pixabay

Calm

I wonder if perhaps I failed to capture the essence of the prompt word (which was calm) with this entry to last week’s Ad Hoc Fiction competition, but I just couldn’t help myself. Well I enjoyed writing it anyway, even if the feeling wasn’t shared by the voting public!

Meal Deal Steal

Eric closed his eyes and took three deep breaths, determined to put into practice what he had learned on the ‘Introduction to Mindfulness’ interactive workshop that his manager had suggested he attend.

He allowed his mind to focus upon the feeling of the air as it filled, then emptied his lungs, the smooth texture of the kitchenette counter-top under his palms, the faint smells of coffee and bleach that hung in the air and the distant sounds of idle chatter from the office beyond. Mentally, he placed his feelings of anger upon leaves, that floated away from him on a bubbling stream in a mountain landscape and were replaced by a sense of calm.

It was no good. He stormed from the kitchen, letting the door slam shut behind him. Someone had eaten his prawn sandwich and he wasn’t about to let it go. There would be hell to pay.

© Rebecca Field

 

 

A Date to Remember

Here is another installment in the life of the hapless Candice. Previously I wrote A Trip to the Zoo for those who may wish to remind themselves of her dating history. Enjoy!

Another day, another date; but Candice had high hopes for this one. Blind dates could be risky, but she trusted her best friend Zoe’s instinct that she had ‘tons in common’ with Toby, her newly single work colleague. Coffee in a quiet café just outside the city centre had seemed a safe choice- what could possibly go wrong? Dating disasters had become rather an unfortunate pattern for Candice. Ever the optimist however, she remained firm in her belief that ‘Mr Right’ was out there somewhere, it was just a question of locating him.

Finding she was the first to arrive, Candice ordered a skinny chai latte and took a seat at the back of the room where she had a good view of the door. Groups of students lounged about on the leather sofas around empty coffee cups, and a solitary bearded man tapped on a laptop at the next table. He seemed totally absorbed in his work and oblivious to Candice; his too-small jumper was riding up, revealing a large expanse of hairy back. Impossible that he could be Toby, Candice decided with relief; she had been assured that Toby was tall and quite good looking.

Just then, the door opened and a tall, muscular, Scandinavian type walked in and looked around. Kitted out as he was in some kind of work overall and high-vis jacket, Candice didn’t get her hopes up that he was her date; although she did like a man in uniform it was true.

Looking at her watch, Candice noted with dismay that her date was now over twenty minutes late. Muttering curses under her breath she checked for phone messages and resolved to give him ten more minutes of her time.

Nothing arrived on the message front. Obviously, punctuality wasn’t his strong point, but he’d have to have a pretty good excuse for this she thought, frowning. Pausing to check her phone one last time, Candice drained the last of her latte and stood up to leave. Quite why she had agreed to this she did not know; maybe online dating wasn’t so bad after all. Retail therapy would lift her mood she decided as she strode purposefully to the door. She pushed it gently with her shoulder, and when it didn’t move, kicked it sharply in frustration, straight into the face of the handsome stranger on the other side.

“Toby?!”

“Unfortunately, yes. Very sorry I’m so late, terrible traffic,” he said dabbing at his bloodied nose.

“Well, let me get you some ice, a tissue, I’m so sorry, sit down!”

“X-ray might be more in order,” he smiled. “You must be the Candice I’ve heard so much about,” he said giving her wink.

Zoe had been right; he is charming, Candice thought as she nodded and took his hand.

 

As before, I have followed the 26 sentence A-Z structure; hope it doesn’t come across as too contrived. Let me know what you think. Photo courtesy of Pixabay.com

 

Flex

Here is another recent non-winning Ad Hoc Flash Fiction entry; the prompt word was ‘flex’.

Just a Small Prick

I clocked him in the busy waiting area as I hurried through to my clinic room. He was berating the receptionist; something about parking, in a hurry to get to work. Isn’t everyone? I thought, hoping he wasn’t my patient.

“Mr Lee,” I called out. My heart sank as he stood up. He dwarfed me with his bulk. The veins in his neck stood out like electrical flexes, and the thin white cotton of his T-shirt strained against his huge biceps. He regarded me with an expression of contempt.

I showed him to the couch in my room, and took the form he thrust at me. No point attempting small talk with this one, I thought as I washed my hands.

I turned to face him. One glance at the needle and he keeled over like a stone monolith, his face an ashen white.

Sighing, I pressed the help buzzer.

 

photo credit: <a href=”http://www.flickr.com/photos/9532150@N02/15396133187″>the needle</a> via <a href=”http://photopin.com”>photopin</a&gt; <a href=”https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/2.0/”>(license)</a&gt;