Coco’s Flight

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Photo: Copyright: Madison Woods

To move a harp seal named Coco to the San Francisco Zoo by plane took two months to plan. The first hour of the flight Robert sprayed her with ice cold seawater, fed her fish, and monitored her vitals. He was in the bathroom, when the plane nosedived slamming him into the walls and finally snapping his neck on the vanity sink. Everyone onboard was killed, when it shattered on the face of the mountain. As evening approached a camper eating freshly caught trout, glanced up at Coco sprawled in-between two branches.

“Is that a seal staring though a pipe?”

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Maria’s childhood home

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Photo Copyright: Mary Shipman

Maria now an old woman stood in her childhood home one last time. Awoken one evening and raced out the door by her parents almost fifty years ago. Flower wallpaper, which adorned her bedroom walls, now dilapidated from years of neglect. She prayed the metal box remained under the floorboard. The letter from her parents on her sixteenth birthday was intact. The last line read, “Remember you will always be our special angel. Love, Mom and Dad”

The tears poured out. A sharp chest pain gripped Maria, but it was too late. She collapsed to the floor dead.

Robert’s target

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 Photo Copyright: Ted Shultz

Robert watched his target’s every move for two weeks. Tuesday’s and Thursday’s he would enter the third floor apartment at three p.m. and leave two hours later. For the best vantage point Robert chose the closed dentist’s office. He crouched into position rechecked the scope and steadied the M24 rifle. His target appeared in the doorway. Without hesitation he fired one hollow point round through the target’s right eye. Robert calmly collected the spent shell casing and exited using the service elevator. With the confirmation sent, he disposed of the rifle, and phone in the nearby lake.

Order Dispatched

etiennehanratty

This is a Friday Fictioneers submission for 6th June. Thanks to Doug McIlroy for the photo.

Without the Internet, he had no doubt he’d have ending up firing gunshots indiscriminately in the precinct by now. It would have been the only way to keep himself from being devoured by the overwhelming sense of anomie. Instead, he’d been given a chance to be good at something, to make an identity for himself.

A message flashed onscreen-Your Order Has Been Dispatched. He smiled.

The idea had come to him from an old Hitchcock film. It was far easier to avoid detection for one’s crimes if someone else could be persuaded to carry them out. Granted, a little quid pro quo was to be expected, but there were always violent men in need of a little hacking expertise and the Internet was the greatest labour exchange device there was.

He blew out a…

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Evy’s Fever

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(Photo copyright: Douglas M. Macllroy)

The day sped by as they unpacked box after box. Bill woke around three in the morning, from the cries of their daughter, Evy. Her fever spiked to one hundred and two point six. After her medicine, diaper change, and goodnight kiss, he decided to do some work in the living room.

For the first time all day, he was able to put his feet up and focus on the art for the new ad campaign. Although the mess on the table next to him beckoned for his attention, as the image loaded he drifted off to sleep.