Skip to main content

FEATURED POST

XITIZEN RC1803 | Dystopian Flash Fiction

Reavers | Dystopian Flash Fiction

Dystopian flash fiction story about escaping from being hunted by reavers - written by Russ Cavanagh.

Reavers - Dystopian flash fiction by Russ Cavanagh

They'd found me and I didn't like the implications of that. Voices outside my window talking low but definitely audible. Maybe waiting for back-up.

    Leaving the back way the alley was clear. No one knew about this exit route except perhaps some of the local elders. Picking up my bug-out bag, its contents including a copy of St. John's Gospel, I crept along the vennel with my head low.

    Looking back I spotted the crowd that was building down my street, waiting by my front door. Breathing now regulated, I felt my chest tighten nonetheless. That was then I realized I'd forgotten my medication. Too bad, it wouldn't matter.

    At that time the track down towards the water was deserted. No reavers were about. This was due to normal people not yet braving the streets where they might be targeted. Reavers usually surfaced only once the whitened sun had crossed into the afternoon.

    So far so good. I made it to the bridge and hid behind one of the thicker struts. As the river coursed its final furlong out to sea I ate breakfast from my rations and read from John's account of the Christ Jesus. Oh, for peaceful deliverance from this evil world.

    Minutes later as I knelt to pray I heard the hovering sound grow louder.

 

 

 

 Copyright © Russell Cavanagh  

Labels:

Popular posts from this blog

Please can you tell your father

  Please can you tell your father - Flash fiction by Russ Cavanagh  Before a spell as a marine commando in his younger days the old man was an apprentice boat builder. But now the hospital was refusing his requests for a tot of rum.           "Mr Cameron, please will you tell your father he can't have alcohol in here?" the doctor implored. The old boy must have thought he'd ended up in a hospice or some sort of palliative care. Ross had a word with him. A crestfallen silence followed.           Visiting time now over, Ross promised to come again tomorrow. The old man gave a knowing stare at his only remaining son.           "Take care of yourself," he said. These were the final words Ross heard from him.           By the following day his dad had slipped from consciousness. A nurse suggested Ross just sit with him. Listening to the death rattle, he was remin...
READ MORE »

Back from the old road

Back from the old road - Flash fiction by Russ Cavanagh My stomach had rumbled steadily over the past hundred or so miles. There was nothing for it, I'd have to find somewhere to pull in and eat. As luck would have it I saw just the place - a little truckers restaurant sat back from the old road.           Inside and out cane seats sat under clean formica tabletops. There were no other customers around, maybe because it was by now way past lunchtime. A coffee machine hissed from the kitchen and a radio played hits from yesteryear. Soon a man wearing an apron appeared and took my order.           As I tucked in to the generous portion of ham and eggs, followed by pancakes drowning in maple syrup and ice cream, the man told me how his family had opened the place the previous century. He said business became tight a few years ago when the local plant, a big employer, relocated south.           "My nam...
READ MORE »

Glasgow Pride 2069 | Dystopian flash fiction

Glasgow Pride 2069 - Dystopian flash fiction by Russ Cavanagh Firm friends Big Rod and Roger the Pole met up at the 2069 Pride event in Glasgow. It was a sparse affair, turnout being lower than at any time in living memory.      'Ooh, Big Rod ... Lovely to see you again darling ... Mwah!' said Roger, kissing Rod's wrinkled face.      'Hello Roger, darling. You're looking handsome as ever,' Rod lied, noting the other now used an albeit stylish walking stick.      'How long is it now, Rod?'      'I beg your pardon?'      'How long have we been coming here to Glasgow Pride?' replied Roger, adding, 'Silly boy!'      'This will be my fortieth year at the parade. You?'      'Yes, about the same for me, dear.'      'I see the Church of Scotland float is leading this year,' said Rod, proudly showing Roger he still had his beloved 2029 Pride scarf. ...
READ MORE »