Day 4: Flash Fiction
Once there was a dead man. He died just as he had lived, working in front of a computer day in and day out. His heart had finally caught up to his sedentary life style. The smoking and drinking didn't help, at least not for his health. But what finally got him to the end of his life was the work. The work consumed him. Everyday he would roll out of bed. He would walk the twenty two steps to the desk where he worked and he would type. And type. And type. Until he was tired, then he got up, walked those same twenty two steps and slept. On weekends he would drink alone in his apartment and work drunk for as long as he could. Smoke breaks took away from his work so he began smoking from his desk.
On the day he was to die he had just finished working, and moved to get up. He stretched his long fingers in a weave until they clicked. He started walking back to bed and on step twenty one he felt an ache in his chest. His mind reeled at the sudden onset of pain. He looked to the dresser next to his bed as he started to lean to one side. Almost crashing to the ground, he reached out and caught himself. He saw from his hunched position the door to the bathroom and the medicine cabinet. Gripping his chest he moved toward the door. His legs wobbled and he shook as he walked. He turned on the lights and pressed his hands onto the cold sink counter top. He flung the medicine cabinet open, sending cracks through the mirror that resided in front of it. Scrambling through the bottles he found the aspirin. Ripping it open he tipped the bottle back, catching a few of the pills in his mouth. He chewed them up and swallowed like they were hard candy. His heart beat subsided and he began to calm down. He sunk to the floor and breathed heavily. He stared at the wall and nodded to himself. Slowly, he picked himself up, grabbed his cell phone, and walked to the front door.
"Where do you think you're going?" A voice called out to him, bringing him to turn his head around behind him.
"Please, I have to leave. I need to see a doctor. I might have a serious condition."
"You can not leave this place. It's part of the contract." The voice belonged to what appeared to be a little girl in a white dress.
"But if I stay here I might die."
"I know..."
"But then how will the work get finished?"
"Don't worry. You are not the first and you will not be the last."
The man felt the ache in his chest return. It was dulled from the medication, but still there.
"Go back to bed. You have more work to do in the morning."
Slowly he turned around from the door, put his cell phone back on his desk and moved to the bed. "I have more work to do in the morning."
On the day he was to die he had just finished working, and moved to get up. He stretched his long fingers in a weave until they clicked. He started walking back to bed and on step twenty one he felt an ache in his chest. His mind reeled at the sudden onset of pain. He looked to the dresser next to his bed as he started to lean to one side. Almost crashing to the ground, he reached out and caught himself. He saw from his hunched position the door to the bathroom and the medicine cabinet. Gripping his chest he moved toward the door. His legs wobbled and he shook as he walked. He turned on the lights and pressed his hands onto the cold sink counter top. He flung the medicine cabinet open, sending cracks through the mirror that resided in front of it. Scrambling through the bottles he found the aspirin. Ripping it open he tipped the bottle back, catching a few of the pills in his mouth. He chewed them up and swallowed like they were hard candy. His heart beat subsided and he began to calm down. He sunk to the floor and breathed heavily. He stared at the wall and nodded to himself. Slowly, he picked himself up, grabbed his cell phone, and walked to the front door.
"Where do you think you're going?" A voice called out to him, bringing him to turn his head around behind him.
"Please, I have to leave. I need to see a doctor. I might have a serious condition."
"You can not leave this place. It's part of the contract." The voice belonged to what appeared to be a little girl in a white dress.
"But if I stay here I might die."
"I know..."
"But then how will the work get finished?"
"Don't worry. You are not the first and you will not be the last."
The man felt the ache in his chest return. It was dulled from the medication, but still there.
"Go back to bed. You have more work to do in the morning."
Slowly he turned around from the door, put his cell phone back on his desk and moved to the bed. "I have more work to do in the morning."
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