April 27, 2014
Time for another Flash Fiction. This is from an old prompt from Flash Fiction Friday - FFF - Cycle 3 - Themed word list. It was from October, so list was omen, umbrella, shallow and death. 466 words.
Dan rolled over and slapped the snooze button. He opened one eye to peer at the time. 7:13, Friday the 13th. No big deal to him, as he didn't believe in omens, whether good or bad. Although he did think that his latest promotion was more a matter of luck more than ability. He'd tried to tell his co-worker Susan that was all it was, but in reality she just didn't know how to work the system. At least now he wouldn't have to listen to her whining about how poor she and her kids were. But, whatever the reason, he didn't want to be late on his first day as manager.
To save a bit of time he tried shaving in the shower, but ended up not only trying to see himself in a foggy mirror, but nicking himself, and then knocking the mirror to the shower floor. Luckily he avoided cutting his foot on the broken pieces. Breakfast went well, considering the milk had somehow soured since yesterday, and he was soon rushing out the door, coffee mug in one hand, briefcase in the other. He remembered the house keys just as he slammed the door shut - in fact he could still see them inside on the table, complete with the rabbit's foot his mother had given him. He kept it just to please her, although it did have a nice soft feel. He'd told her that any good luck for him was balanced out against the bad luck of the rabbit that had lost it, so these things likely all cancelled out - even if they did exist. No time to worry about keys now. He did manage to score the last seat on the bus, ahead of some chubby woman with a big knapsack on her back. She looked like she sat all day, and could do with the extra bit of exercise anyway. Then, just before his stop, a pretty blond took her place, so he was able to pretend gallantry and offer her his seat.
It started to rain just as he got off the bus, but careful planning meant he had an umbrella with him for the short dash. As he approached his building he spotted a ladder propped in front, taking up most of the side walk. He was about to dash under it when he noticed a shallow puddle underneath. Might as well go around, just in case. When he darted around the end, a gust of wind tugged at his umbrella, pulling him off balance. As he tottered off the curb, the second last thing he saw was a beautiful rainbow, arching over a city bus. The last thing he saw before his death was the front of the bus, and its sign. Cross-town #13.