All those close to the President would be lined up outside the Palace and told to run, but they wouldn’t get far. I was in the airport. They were coming for us there too, but there were no guns, only razor blades. I escaped down the service lift and hid in the luggage conveyor. I’d told my flight-attendant friend where to find me before making my escape. She came. I explained my predicament: if she didn’t get me out, I would die. Of course, if she did get me out, and they found out, she would die instead.
‘I’m screwing one of the private pilots’ she said, ‘I’ll see what I can do: wait here.’
So I waited. And as I heard the click of her 5-inch stilettos returning to the spot where I was hiding, I knew I was about to find out if I’d been wise to trust her…
Flexing my fiction-writing muscles
As it’s the dVerse summer break, I thought I’d post some flash fiction I’ve had in draft form for a while. This one is based on a dream I had a while back. I do have strange dreams, but don’t we all? Let me know what you think! And if you have any flash fictions you would like to share on this blog, please email them to me at firstname.lastname@example.org.