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FLASH FICTION PROMPT
His hand clamped down on my shoulder, an iron grip that I didn’t
dare shake off. I could feel him, standing beside me, his displeasure a
thick, stifling air that brooked no disobedience.
“Sir.” I greeted, barely trusting my voice to be civil. “Is something the matter?”
“Something the-?” He broke off, abruptly, the hand on my shoulder
tightening to something almost painful. “Something will be.” He growled,
at last. “Don’t you ever do that again, do you hear me?” The squeeze
for good measure was painful. Then his regal head lowered a few
centimeters and he whispered in my ear. “And if you do, then don’t get
caught.”
(c) Sara Harricharan