As I mentioned in this blog entry, I entered a Flash Fiction challenge despite a) Not having written Flash Fiction before, b) not really having time to enter such challenges and c) not actually knowing what Flash Fiction was. We’re now past the end of the first month of the challenge, and at a four piece per week rate, I should have finished already. I didn’t and am a bloody-minded fool, so I’m cheating a little to get all sixteen pieces done by today. Here’s the fourteenth piece. This one clocks in at 352 words, which is right around my stated goal of “300 – 500 words, hopefully closer to the 300 end.”
“My name is Dean Collins, and I am – I was a sinner,” he announced to the circle of people.
Kasey rolled her eyes. Why had she signed up for this crap? She wondered, not for the first time. And anyway, Dean my boy, us sinners have way more fun.
She had been packed off to this “summer camp” by her parents because they thought her a “troubled” teen – and you could hear the quotes around “troubled” whenever the subject came up. As far as Kasey could tell, that t-word was a euphemism for “uses her brain to think independently.” Unlike these drones here, she thought.
In the meantime, Dean had finished his little speech. The circle clapped him politely, a few offering mumbled promises of prayers. Dean took the seat next to Kasey, glanced sidelong at her and rolled his eyes.
Well, well, maybe he isn’t quite as dumb as I thought. Kasey smiled at him. “Tough room, huh?” she whispered under her breath.
“Tell me about it,” Dean answered in a whisper of his own, “I didn’t catch your name.”
“You’ll hear it soon,” Kasey said, “It’s my turn.” Kasey stood up and surveyed the circle of eager faces. “My name is Kasey Winchester and I was a sinner.” She paused just long enough for the group to start murmuring their support before finishing off her sentence “and damned good at it too!”
The group fell silent. All except Dean, who guffawed.
“I’m guessing this is your first day with the group?”
“And my last, with a bit of luck. I don’t need to sit and pray away my personality just because I got a tattoo.” Kasey said.
Dean rolled up the sleeve of his ribbed black t-shirt to show Kasey his own tattoo, a bear silhouetted against the moon. Kasey pulled down the collar of her top to expose an identical tattoo of her own (and if she was honest, a bit of cleavage for Dean)
Kasey looked from the one tattoo to the other. They matched in every detail.
“It must be destiny,” she said. “We had to meet.”