I’ve got this lovely new flash fiction prompt app I’m trying out for the first time today, and I think I like it so far! Here’s what I got after shaking my phone a few times:
Maria had told him he’d hit rock bottom, but this was far worse than he’d ever thought it would be. He and some of the other bosses met up for poker once a week and there was, as usual, alcohol involved. A time to unwind and talk to the only people in the city who could possibly understand your perspective on life, and possibly get some good information if someone got a little too drunk and let something slip. He’d known something like this might happen after he’d started sleeping with Nicky’s wife. Looking back, being with her hadn’t meant very much, compared to where it had gotten him. In all honesty, he regretted hurting Maria more than anything, even though that had gotten him into his current predicament.
The wind up here was vicious and cruel, far beyond anything he’d ever experienced while standing on the ground. His wicker basket didn’t sway demurely, as he’d always imagined it would on one of these things when viewing from below. No, it rocked and bucked, trying to shake him off like an enraged rodeo bull. He reached out and held onto one of the ropes meant to hold the basket down when embarking and help in landing. Nicky had cut the sand bags from the ropes, himself, once his goons had dumped his drunk ass into the basket.
Nicky had looked him straight in the eye and smirked, “You know, Jimmy, you’ve got yourself some real lofty goals, don’t you? Goals of a business nature, I could deal with. You sneak around and grab things up, little by little, from my turf. I can deal with that. It’s just business, after all. But… my wife? Jimmy, that’s personal. I can’t just look the other way. You understand. Lofty goals will get you pretty high up, but no one ever wonders how they’re supposed to get back down to the ground. I hope you learn the lesson of that, with this experience.” Then, he’d cut the ropes and Jimmy had experienced rapid-onset sobriety as he watched the stars grow closer through the brightly colored material of the balloon.
Indeed, he’d been thinking of getting back down to the ground safely, but the stupid thing was rigged and he had no idea how to work it. Anything he did may result in catastrophe, so he just sat here and though of his wife, his businesses, and whether any of it had been worth the dalliance with Saundra. It wasn’t, of course, and he swore until he was hoarse that he’d straighten out if he ever stood on the Earth again. All of it. The booze, the women, the power trip. None of it was worth the stupid shit he’d been doing. He just hoped he could live to tell Maria that she was right and he was so, so sorry.
He gazed at the stars as he wished for home and waited to find out what would become of him, wind beating at the fragile little basket that was his only grip to life, so terrified he never even got to see the incredible view of the world from his vantage point.
Rabid Writes 