AuthenticityMature

A piece of flash fiction the idea for which came after attending a novel writing workshop.

The tape bites into my wrists, but it’s the switchback motion causing me to grunt. As my body slides into something hard I curse against the gag. Petrol permeates the confined space. My hands chaff on the fabric of the floor every time the car corners. Violently my body slams against the back seats as the car brakes and I topple backwards onto my pinned arms.

Movement. A door slams. The boot swings up. Light blinds me as I’m dragged out. It’s some sort of disused industrial site. I’m in a warehouse looking wildly round the empty interior trying to photo memorise all this. There are stone pillars each side. The guy, wearing a black mask and a baseball cap, shoves me down at one. He kicks my legs before running a length of rope around my chest and behind the pillar. He yanks it tight, crunching my arms back against the stone. A high pitched sound catches in my throat and down out of my nose. He crouches to tape my ankles together. His laugh is muffled as he picks up the metal rod lying nearby, swings. Shit. This wasn’t…

He drops the rod, tears the mask from his face, pulls off my gag. ‘How’d I do?’

My heart’s still thumping. ‘Yeah,’ I say looking up. His eyes are over bright. ’That felt almost too bloody real.’ My so-called friend grins. At least I can write up that scene now.

           

 

The End

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