14 Comments

Coffin Hop 2013: Day 4

One Photograph, Two Points of View: Comparative Flash Fiction

comparative_flash_photo7

The Slip by Nina D’Arcangela

The texture of the brass dials a thing so fetching, feel them spin, with a tick and a click, tightening ever so slightly as the prize is nearing.

Nimble fingers twist knobs , first left, then right, and back yet again. Feeling for the slightest shift, as slowly they spin.

A tick, a click, the slip. The first dial is set. How these tired tips work at gaining entry, their art lost to time, man’s arrogance a false sentry.

These fingers you see, they are for hire, they spin, they click only for the most discriminate buyer. What lies beyond the beauty of this contraption of brass, these fingers care not – their job only to spin, to click, to find the – slip.

Ah, the slipping of the final pin into place, pride to be had for a task well done. These fingers find no pride being named thief, only in the triumph of yet another breach.

Never touching the treasures concealed inside, the gift is in the spinning, the clicking and the glorious sound of the decisive slipping as the lock disengages, and the tomb readies to release.

The thrill done, the game complete, the mastery of infiltrating the impenetrable is what these tired digits did seek. Their desirous splendor being the one called to task, no other hand as capable on the brass.

These fingers, they are old, and worn with time, slowly they reach out and gentle the slide.

A slight pop, the pressure released, the door opens a mere chink, allowing for those who would have the briefest of peeks.

The thrill these old finger have felt now past, gone on this final releasing of brass. This buyer untrue with intentions corrupt, these fingers have felt for the final time the tick, the click, the magnificent slip!

All Rights Reserved © 2012 Nina D’Arcangela

***

Two Six Four by Kalla Monahan

Two. Six. Four.

Such things numbers are. Who thought of them? What do they really mean?

The concept is something that we inherently understand and accept… but –

Two. Six. Four.

Behind these three numbers lay my prophecies. One cannot possibly comprehend the weight of this. The crushing, blinding horror that envelops me at the sight of them.

They represent a box, built into a wall of boxes. A repository of fear and horror segmented and locked away within my own mind. Each one has a number and a corresponding combination which will unleash its contents upon my broken mind.

What triggers the combination to unlock is different with each one. A smell, a whispered word, or a sequence of events. One is even triggered by a recurring nightmare, of that I know.

Two. Six. Four.

The contents are locked away for good reason, as what I see is what you get.

I am a soothsayer; a teller of fortunes. There is one slight catch, however, my fortunes are delivered to you only if the conditions for its release are met. It’s a game of chance, per se; will some gloriously wretched soul be bathed in the horror behind one of the little bronzed doors? Or will an unspeakable terror smite the psyche of an innocent. Not even I know the answer.

Two. Six. Four.

It is an interminable game, waiting. One minute you believe the coast is clear, that a fortune will not come to fruition. The next, your mind becomes achingly aware of the turning dials, the subtle hammering of the tumbler as it spins.

Then…

Red-eyed, albino midgets surround a feeble woman, their milky hands scraping at her flesh. Revealing the cogs of her existence which lay below her corporeality. A new foreboding ensues from two six four.

All Rights Reserved © 2012 Kalla Monahan

***

Comment below for a chance to win a digital copy of G.L. Helm’s Sometimes in Dreams!

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14 comments on “Coffin Hop 2013: Day 4

  1. A delightfully enigmatic and creepy pair of of stories.

  2. Lovely stuff. Glad I’m not the only one who thought of safebreaking, but the second take was interesting as well! ^__^

  3. Excellent! I never tire of flash from a photo… 🙂

  4. I love writing about chances. There’s always the if-factor; did the person make the correct choice?

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