This week’s blog post is a bit of Flash Fiction that was inspired by a writing prompt about a lost red scarf. I did this entirely as dialogue and sound, which was an interesting exercise.
The Red Scarf
“Dammit!”
“What’s wrong now, Mother?”
“My scarf. The red one. It’s missing. Dammit!”
“Mother, please. You’re blood pressure. Remember what the doctor said about stressing your heart.”
“Doctors! Just a bunch of semi-educated guessers.”
“Now, mother, where would you be right now without all the doctors and nurses who cared for you after your . . . event.”
“Oh, stop tip-toeing around. Just say it. You never did have the guts to do or say what was needed. Heart attack. I had a damned heart attack.”
“Fine, heart attack. Are you happy now?”
“No. Someone must have stolen it.”
“Now, mother, why would anyone want to steal your old scarf?”
“You have no idea.”
“I’ll tell you what, I’ll get you another scarf. Something blue. To set off your eyes.”
“I don’t want a new damn scarf. I need to find my scarf. The one I used to . . .”
“Used to what, Mother?”
“Eh? Nothing. Nothing. It’s just I . . . I wouldn’t be so concerned, but it was a . . . a souvenir . . . from—”
Knock, Knock, Knock
“I wonder who that could be at this hour?”
“Don’t answer it. It’s them!”
“But—”
“It’s them I tell you. They took it, and now they’re back.”
“Mother. What’s wrong with you?”
“Wrong with me? What’s wrong with you. Listen to me for once in your worthless life and do not open that door.”
“Mother. Let go. You’re hurting me.”
“You are not going to answer that door.”
Knock, Knock, Knock
“You can’t let them take me.”
“Please, go back to bed, Mother. You need your rest.”
“No. Wait. I have to think. Would the DNA still be viable?”
“What on earth are you talking about?”
“That scarf! That damned red scarf! It’s the one I used when I strangled your father!”
“And here I told them they wouldn’t find anything. I guess I was wrong again, Mother.”