Flash Fiction Friday: Time Thief

Hello Readers, Writers, and Friends,

For reasons I haven’t quite put a finger on (hahaha, pun), my typing has gotten worse. So if you read today’s offering and it makes little to no sense, please be a wee bit gracious. The mind is willing but the shakes in the fingers aren’t weak, so I’m doing th=e best I can. Really.

As this world continues to spiral toward utter tragedy, I want to take a minute and thank those of you that read on the weekly. I see you. Your names and bitty icons that let me know these micro contributions lift your spirits as they do mine. It gives me motivation to keep coming back to the digital page as it were. It’s what helps me put one scene in front of the next in my novel length works. (Loving reminder that my first two novels can be found on Amazon)

I took a brief trip out of the desert and into the mountains with some writer friends this past weekend to buckle down and build some writing momentum. I spent large swaths of that time reacquainting myself with what I’d already written. My word count lacked the five-digit significance I’d hoped for, but it pushed me forward all the same. I was reminded that while it may not have the kind of world shattering impact every author imagines or hopes for (well, some hope for that, some just want best-seller stats and that’s ok too), I love this story. I want to tell this story. I want these characters to live and strive for themselves and each other and I am grateful that this work is part of my life. Even when my hands and the keyboard don’t get on so well.

This week’s prompts: Thief, backpack

A shot from The Dirty Cowboy Saloon in Strawberry, AZ The stuffed pork chop was excellent.

The dude put his backpack down for three seconds. That’s all it took. Standing there next to his bike, he wanted two hands to text so he put the bag down. Looking back now, maybe it was on purpose. Maybe he was cycling around town, pausing every now and again with the back pack at his feet, hoping some dumb schmuck would snatch it up, drag it to their apartment and then surprise.

I mean, what so I even do with this?

I grabbed it, like anybody desperate for a next hit would do. I didn’t even wait til I got back to the old aarehouse I had been holed up in lately. Just a few streets over I opened the bag in the ally. I start pulling out books and I’m thinking b=maybe that’s an iPad at eh bottom, but no. No.

It’s nothing like I’ve ever seen. I touch the surface, and bam there’s a thousand little needles and heat pushing into my fingertips. Everything goes green. Not black. I didn’t pass out, just everything turned this crazy shade of green. When my eyes cleared, I looked back at whatever the hell this crazy rectangle of death is and it’s beeping. Little clock counting down and a message saying, “If you don’t get to 659 E. Empire Nesco, New Jersey within 72 hours you will die.”

I didn’t want to die, but Jersey? Really? And I was starving street kid, more interested in getting high than wheterh or not I lived. At least I thought I was. Until I saw that clock.

I had been killing myself anyway. I didn’t have bus fare. So I figured, screw it.

I looked at the books in the bag again. “twelve Rules for Life” by Jordan Peterson, Anthem” by Ayn Rand, and “The Hobbit” by J/R.R. Tolkien. There was an empty notebook and a bunch of pens and a calculator. So I put everything in the bag, except the green vision device, and I took it back to warehouse hideaway.

For two straight days I read. Even when the withdrawal set in and I started shaking. I just kept reading and making notes and figuring out what I could do to make my last 24 hours better than the first 24 years.

I got cleaned up, I broke into a high rise that was sitting empty, used the office equipment that was sitting there to build a multi million dollar business. I had the money to pay the lease by the time the building manager realized I was there.

I still have no clue what’s in Nesco, New Jersey. But the clock ran out. I’m still here.

Hope you all enjoyed. As as afterthought, I am currently reading Jordan B. Peterson’s newest release, “Beyond Order, 12 More Rules for Life” and loving it so far. If you don’t have anything on your reading docket currently I highly recommend any of the titles that have appeared in today’s writings. Each a push to adventure in their own way.

Happy Friday everyone!

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