Lovely to see a great mix of Flash Mob regulars and newbies. You gave us some great stories for this week’s tune! Thanks to everyone who wrote and commented! 🙂
Soldier | Honorable Mention | AV Laidlaw | @AvLaidlaw
Cara Says: The closing seals the deal for this werewolf tale. It really struck me how the man struggles with the very literal beast inside him. The opposing aspects of their natures makes for a stunning conclusion as his humanity wins out. For the moment, at least.
Ruth Says: This was a poignant treatise on humanity that will haunt me for some time to come. Bravo!
Underboss | Second Place | Siobhan Muir | @SiobhanMuir
Cara Says: A smooth snippet addressing a rocky topic. There is an emotional riot going on between these three, with what seems like common sense to Talia, warring with Moira’s understandable trust issues, and Aidan’s desire to be a better friend. A great scene overall.
Ruth Says: I really enjoyed how things came tumbling out here and the way these friends worked through and around issues to get to that all important bottom line – Moira’s safety!
Boss | Winner | David Ludwig | @DavidALudwig
Cara Says: There are so many details to love about this vampire hunter piece. The pink trenchcoat, the garlic marinated bodysuit (gag!), PURDY THE PINK JEEP. As something of a beer snob, I appreciate Clarisse’s predicament: If you have to hunt vampires down in dive bars, they could at least have some decent beer choices. A great scene that builds on Clarisse’s tension for a laugh-out-loud finale of vampire immolation.
Ruth Says: The details are wonderfully precise, the story world one I’d enjoy spending a lot of time in, and Clarisse is a protagonist whose style and panache maker her a character I’d faithfully follow through a series.
The Winning Story by David A. Ludwig
The swinging doors banged open to admit another rowdy foursome to the discreetly lit bar.
“Did you see that hideous jeep out back?” A leather-clad man with a buzz cut laughed. “Talk about embarrassing!”
Clarisse’s grip tightened around her mug as she launched into another mental chorus of “Not yet. Not yet. Not yet.” She had more than her share of experience with shithole dives, and this was easily one of the worst five she’d ever been in. The beer was tepid and flat with nauseating similarities to piss. Not that patrons came here for the beer, but would it have killed them to have one decent tap or bottle? Clarisse grinned at the thought.
“Hey, maybe it’s something new on the menu!” A smaller man with pasty features jostled Buzz.
The four got their tin goblets of the house specialty from the bar and made their way to a table. This joint was used to regulars, each with their fixed places. The bar continued to fill, surprising Clarisse no one had told her she was in their spot, yet. Finally the doors clapped open for a taller sharp featured man with dreadlocks.
“Man, it is dead out there!” Dreadlocks declared to the uproarious laughter of the entire bar. Except Clarisse.
The wraithlike bartender raised a tin goblet toward Dreadlocks, but he waved her off. Instead he sidled over to where Clarisse was sitting as all the other patrons exchanged sly glances. Apparently the outsider had been noticed.
“Whew!” Dreadlocks pinched his nose as he sat down next to Clarisse. “What’s humming? Girl, you ever hear of bathing?”
Clarisse splashed her disgusting beer in Dreadlocks’ face with a tight smile. “Ya mean like that?”
With a single shocked breath the bar went silent. Dreadlocks wiped his eyes and leaned in toward Clarisse with a predatory grin.
“You shouldn’t have done that, Girly. Now we can’t be friends.”
Clarisse unzipped her pink trench coat down past her ample cleavage. Dreadlocks recoiled as if he’d been punched in the nose and Clarisse stood up between the entrance and the rest of the bar. She savored the slow reveal as she finished unzipping her trench coat and let it drop to the floor. Underneath she was wearing a bodysuit marinated in garlic that knocked most of the bar on their asses. She also had several ammo belts, knives, stakes and guns including a hand-cannon already leveled at the back of the bar.
“Party’s over, Fangs.” Clarisse squeezed the trigger with her own predatory grin.
Vampires dove to avoid the shell that exploded the back wall of the bar. Clarisse had her key fob in hand and double tapped for the ultra-violet headlights. The settling dust of demolition revealed Clarisse’s jeep, Purdy, a glorious specter of pink death. After checking that every last bloodsucker was writhing and immolating on the floor, Clarisse holstered her cannon with a blissful sigh.
Sometimes she really loved her job.