Sorabh Saxena is the Readers’ Choice in this week’s Indies Unlimited Flash Fiction Challenge. The winning entry is decided by the popular vote and rewarded with a special feature here today. (In the case of a tie, the writer who submitted an entry first is the winner per our rules.)
Without further ado, here’s the winning story:
Double Date
by Sorabh Saxena
“Biologists say they have a peripheral vision range somewhere between 250 to 270 degrees, to scan for predator movement at or just below the horizon,” rattled Jane, smiling and peering into her reliable Vortex Viper.
Derek mumbled, “Eh..” and kept looking through his camera.
Jane was super excited for her break into the big league. She was down today at the Kenya’s Masai Mara National Reserve with National Geographic: a far cry from the state newspaper back in Huntsville, Alabama.
“Do you think they can see us?” asked Derek.
“Deer see five times better than we do,” she replied nonchalantly.
Derek and Jane were lying supine like a bunch of snipers. Jane had charted the track of a wild cat across the grasslands into a water reservoir for a week. They were expecting a crossing today.
Jane zoomed in with her Viper and noticed the buck.
“The fawns are busy grazing, but the buck is looking in our direction. He is bobbing his head and moving it side to side. They do that when they are trying to make a 3D image of a predator,” said Jane, in a now hushed and concerned voice.
“No way in hell they can make us out!” exclaimed Derek.
“Exactly … they have not,” said Jane nervously. Derek could see the fear in her eyes.
“They made out their predator! It’s only that they are not the Prey…”
A slow, deep growl came from just a few feet away.
Destiny
By Annette Rey
High in the Colorado Rockies an ill-used cabin stood empty, crumbling in the summer thaw.
“This looks like it, Melanie.”
The door hung unevenly on its hinges. Bill pushed his way inside.
“It’s sturdy inside, Mel.”
“It smells. I mean, stinks. What is that odor?”
“Smells like wet wood.”
“It’s been dry for weeks, Bill. Look over there. Books!”
“You look inside, I’ll see what needs to be done outside.”
Melanie sat on the floor, piles of books stacked around her before Bill returned.
“You look comfortable. Did you unpack our food?”
“Food? We can’t eat before swimming.”
“Swimming? You ok, Mel? Come on. I’m hungry.”
Mel passed him and went outside. Bill thought Mel hadn’t adjusted yet to the mountain air.
“Mel? Food’s ready. Mel?”
Bill went outside. It was almost dark now. “Where are you? Mel!” Bill turned to go back for a flashlight and ran smack into Mel’s face. “Darn, you had me worried. Get inside.”
Wide-eyed, he noticed she was dressed only in her bra and panties.
“Where are your clothes?”
“At the beach. He’s calling me.”
“Mel. I think you need a doctor.”
“Oh, that’s funny, Bill. Driftwood is a doctor!”
“Who’s Driftwood?”
“The man who owned this house.”
Mel’s image faded into smoke. A deep cold filled the room. Bill smelled seaweed. A book lay open, its pages moving in breathless air.
The book snapped shut. The title stung Bill; Lost at Sea by I. M. Driftwood, Witchdoctor.