This is my first Chuck Wendig flash fiction challenge.
One thousand palabros using the words: flirt, wig, figure, dusk, and mobile phone (which I happen to be typing on with some difficulty due to my temporary societal classification as an Internetless baboon). Haven’t written flash fiction since college creative writing class, but it’s like riding a bike, yes? No? You tell me.
Curiosity Killed the Cat
“There she is,” said Emily, squinting through the hi-tech binoculars Uncle Rich had given her for her twelfth birthday.
“For my secret ops agent in training,” he’d said, winking at her as she’d pretended to be excited. Uncle Rich loved to wink- at babies in the supermarket, at the teenaged skinheads he rang up at his store “AmmuNation,” pretty ladies he flirted with on the subway. He thought winking made him an army fatigues clad Rico Suave.
Usually, Uncle Rich gave terrible gifts. Last Christmas, Emily and her twin brother Luca received matching black gauges for their ears. But it turned out the binoculars were pretty handy for spying on the neighbors, particularly Mrs. Posciotta, a nasty old lady who lived to poison neighborhood pets.
“Lemme see!” Luca snatched at the binoculars and nearly choked her with the strap. She shoved him away and rubbed her neck.
“Shit, Luca! You almost knocked me off the roof!” Emily wasn’t the kind of girl who minded swearing. Maybe it had something to do with growing up without a mom.
“Sorry,” said Luca, still staring at the binoculars enviously. He’d got a copy of The Art of War for his birthday, so Emily did feel kind of bad for him. “What’s she doing?” he asked.
Emily peered through the binoculars just in time to see the top of Mrs. Posciotta’s matted grey wig disappearing around the corner.
“She’s probably going to the bodega,” said Emily. She relinquished the binoculars to Luca now that there was nothing to see, and he put them up to his eyes.
“Bet she’s gonna buy arsenic,” Luca muttered.
It was the third week of summer vacation and three cats and a Chihuahua had been found dead on the block. Emily and Luca knew Mrs. Posciotta was the pet murderer. Problem was, nobody believed them.
“Lucille?” Uncle Rich had said dismissively. “She’s 93 years old. She wouldn’t have the strength to drown a cat. More likely it’s that Ramirez kid. What’s-his-name? The one who stabbed his teacher with a Sharpie- Carlos. Kid’s a sociopath in the making. Leave Mrs. Posciotta alone.”
“But we saw her do it,” insisted Luca. It was true. The night before they’d been playing on the roof, which was technically off-limits, and had seen Mrs. Posciotta pull a dripping, limp, furry body from her tub. Emily shuddered at the memory.
“When?” asked Uncle Rich, skeptically.
Luca opened his mouth, but Emily stepped on his foot and he took the hint.
“What’re we gonna do?” Luca had asked after Uncle Rich’s rebuff, kicking a can out from under Mr. Ramirez’s tire.
“I don’t know, but she has to be stopped.”
Luca agreed; Mrs. Posciotta was psychotic. They planned to watch her day and night until she slipped up.
Dusk descended over the city. Luca had the binoculars trained on Mrs. Posciatta’s front door, and Emily was busy peeling sunburned skin off her nose.
“She’s back,” he whispered, and Emily scrambled to the brick ledge of their building’s roof to take a look. “She has something under her arm.”
Luca was right- Mrs. Posciotta’s black canvas bag was squirming. Emily whipped out the cell they shared and turned on the video recorder.
“Shit! It’s too dark out. She’s just a blurry figure.” She fiddled with the settings, cursing. Too late. Emily heard Mrs. Posciotta’s front door click shut and looked up to see a light go on behind her curtained living room window.
“We have to do something, Em.”
“Like what?”
“She’s gonna kill that animal!”
“Are you suggesting what I think you’re suggesting?” asked Emily in disbelief. “No freakin way, Luca! It’s too dangerous.”
Getting into Mrs. Posciotta’s house was unnervingly easy. Emily had a horrible feeling that the back door was left open specifically to lure in unsuspecting animals. She stayed close to Luca’s shoulder as they moved through the dark kitchen.
“Meoow.” Luca and Emily froze.
Luca pointed to a door at the top of the stairs and mouthed the word “bathroom.” Emily nodded and crept up the stairs behind him. They could tell Mrs. Posciotta was in her bedroom by where the ceiling creaked.
They reached the landing. “Meeooow.” The cat was right on the other side of the bathroom door. Luca took a deep breath and pushed it open wide. Emily grabbed Luca’s arm so tightly that he winced.
Floating in the tub, was a gray, lifeless body.
“What the heck?” said Luca softly, his eyes wide. He reached into the tub and lifted the body, which dripped water noisily all over the bathroom. Emily gasped, and then frowned.
“That’s not a- ” she started.
“Meeoow.” She looked down. A brown tabby was purring at her ankles. “Meow,” it said again, blinking up at her.
“WHAT ARE YOU KIDS DOING IN MY BATHROOM?!”
Emily jumped a mile. Mrs. Posciotta stood glaring at them, baldheaded, from the landing. Luca’s mouth dropped into a perfect, comical O as he held her sopping wig over the tub.
For a moment they all just stood there, staring at each other. Then Luca bellowed, “RUN!” and chucked the wig back into the tub as he took off down the stairs, Emily fast on his heels. They could hear Mrs. Posciotta hollering at them all the way down the block as they slammed through their front door, and sank, shaking, to the floor inside their foyer. Emily landed on something soft and warm.
“Holyshitholyshitholyshit…” Luca repeated in the dark.
Emily flicked on the light and as her eyes adjusted, the hammering of her heart ratcheted up a notch.
“Shut – up – Luca.”
“…holyshitholyshitholyshit”
Emily grabbed him. “Luca! Look!” She pointed to the floor where the lifeless body of Mr. Ramirez’s poodle leaked blood onto a spread of newspaper.
Uncle Rich stepped into the hallway, cleaning a gleaming military knife with a bloodied cloth.
“Kids, didn’t I tell you to leave Mrs. Posciotta alone?” he said with an indulgent wink.
