This week's flash fiction prompt were the words "What'll you have".
This is the idea I've been playing with all week.
I hope you'll enjoy the read and if you feel like participating in this weekly challenge, check the link at the bottom of this post.
There are no restrictions, no obligations and no voting involved, the only 2 things you get are the fun of writing a new - short - story every week if you feel like it and the pleasure of reading other people's take on it.
Enjoy!!!
What’ll you have.
It had been
one of those days, filled with thrills and awesome new finds.
He loved
days like that.
They were
the ones he liked most, because they proved beyond a doubt their hard work wasn’t
going to waste.
What was
going to waste right now though, was his time.
He had
volunteered for a test and now he was standing in line with the other
volunteers, waiting.
It was the
worst part of it.
The waiting.
The seemingly
endless waiting.
Waiting to
start the test.
Waiting to
get assigned to a specific subject.
Waiting for
that subject to arise in the chain of events.
Why had he volunteered again?
Oh, yeah,
he remembered.
It earned him
extra notes on his own work.
Right now,
those extra notes weren’t worth it.
Really not.
He was
topless, standing in line with a good dozen others - also topless - and he felt
out of place.
Hopelessly
out of place.
They were
all trim, muscular, tanned.
He stood
out with his milky-white tone and wispy arms.
He stood at
least 5 inches shorter than the shortest one of them, his torso only half the
size of the thinnest one of them.
Why had he volunteered again?
Finally,
the line started to move.
One by one,
the men in front of him moved up to the counter and made their pick.
Finally, he
reached the counter, too.
The man
behind the counter looked down on him, a mean grin on his face.
“What’ll
you have?”
He pointed
and the man handed him his pick.
“Have fun.”
he said, barely able to suppress his laughter.
He shook it
off, or at least tried to, and followed the others to the large door.
The closer
he came to it, the worse he felt about himself.
The worse
he felt about participating in this test.
The worse
he felt about the item he clasped tightly in his hand.
It weighed
heavier with every step he took, pretty soon, he would be unable to hold it,
let alone lift it.
Why had he volunteered again?
The doors
opened slowly, creaking on badly oiled hinges and the light spilt into the dark
hall where they stood waiting.
On the
left, a row of helmets reflected the light.
They looked
like they weighed half a ton, but he knew he would need it.
One by one,
the men advanced, taking a helmet off the shelf and cradling it under their
arm, after what they stepped through the open door, into the light.
The drumming
of his blood in his ears drowned out any noise there might be and he felt the
nerves soar through his body, shaking his slender limbs up.
Finally, he
picked up a helmet and stepped out of the hall, into the bright light, onto the
hot sand and into the packed arena.
“Gladiators, prepare
for combat!”
Why had he
volunteered to test the time-traveling machine again?
More entries can be found here
Oh my goodness! I had a good chuckle at this one. The increasing sense of impending doom as he walks was spot-on.
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