tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post5897954621457016367..comments2024-03-18T09:09:59.625-04:00Comments on Janet Reid, Literary Agent: Dick Francis Flash Fiction Contest!Janet Reidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00615380335938685231noreply@blogger.comBlogger33125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-16724019367331445272020-04-19T08:59:08.540-04:002020-04-19T08:59:08.540-04:00He asked me to haunt him which was strange, becaus...He asked me to haunt him which was strange, because I wasn't dead. High risk had desensitized him, forfeiting aspects of his humanity for which he hadn't bargained. He needed to lose his nerve.<br />I stood in the hallway, at midnight. Stood in the garden in the mists. Scratched long nails on his bedroom door. Watched him watch tv. Blew on the hairs at the back of his neck. But he seemed scare-proof.<br />Until I told him I was bored, and I'd be leaving. And that, that seemed to scare him most of all.Marie McKayhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/11405271051226910312noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-60035022333253889592020-04-19T04:27:56.708-04:002020-04-19T04:27:56.708-04:00A soft wind blew over the crowd gathered in front ...A soft wind blew over the crowd gathered in front of the cave.<br /><br />A grizzly lumbered forward. “It’s a viable option. Doesn’t matter if they’re bankers or lumberjacks--I want them out of my habitat.”<br /><br />“Too r-risky,” said a young gorilla, unnerved by the bear.<br /><br />“Dealing with terrorists is never a good solution,” bayed a pack of hounds. “Besides, it’s disloyal.”<br /><br />“But they’ve given us proof,” pleaded a pangolin. “We must intervene before more species are forfeited.”<br /><br />The bat re-emerged, upside down, from the shadows. “Creatures of the Earth, what say ye? Shall we release the corona virus on mankind?”Just Janhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/12546035917149403735noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-3965721227759654692020-04-19T04:27:52.758-04:002020-04-19T04:27:52.758-04:00The gang had agreed; the plan was set.
He had to t...The gang had agreed; the plan was set.<br />He had to take on the <b>banker</b>.<br /><br />What could he say? That he didn’t have the <b>nerve</b>? He’d <b>forfeit</b> his place?<br />Oh yeah, that’d go down well. Everyone was taking a <b>risk</b>. <br />Dammit. He had the balls. He was a <b>pro</b>. <b>Of</b> course he could do it. <br /><br />He needed the money. <br /><br />Nothing for it, he took the reins. <br />Last time he bet on a dare.<br />AJ Blythehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/04529233142099749005noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-1793570772180536062020-04-19T03:09:44.850-04:002020-04-19T03:09:44.850-04:00“THE NERVE!” Banker R. exploded, spittle ejecting ...“THE <b>NERVE</b>!” <b>Banker</b> R. exploded, spittle ejecting from his mouth like paratroopers over France on D-Day. “If you can’t provide <b>proof</b> showing it’s a low-<b>risk</b> scenario, this bank will not approve credit!”<br /><br />“If you don’t, we’re screwed.”<br /><br />“If I do, the <i>bank</i> is!” R’s face as red as the tasteless protein pills he had for dinner, last night. “Mining <b>for Fei T</b>sui Jade on Mars? RIDICULOUS!”<br /><br />“Listen, I’ll level with you, we’re just trying to get to the colony. Earth won’t last much longer. Everyone knows it.”<br /><br />“I—” R. paused, crumpled into his chair, and whispered, “Take me with you.” <br />Casual-Thttps://www.blogger.com/profile/04091757363609964963noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-82153101684320464652020-04-19T03:09:41.527-04:002020-04-19T03:09:41.527-04:00Everyone brings a system. Me? I ride the jockeys. ...Everyone brings a system. Me? I ride the jockeys. <br /><br />With two large pushing my pockets, I visit the stables.<br /><br />Francis Richard rises. At four-foot-ten, it doesn’t take long. A horseman with nerve, he’s one victory shy of a track record. Photo finish or forfeit, track needs publicity.<br /><br />He’s up first race. Three-year-olds, claiming. I bet him across the board, figure an early night, deposit my winnings with my friendly “banker” tomorrow morning.<br /><br />Trumpets blare. Ten minutes to post. Richard trots into Gate 13. Atop Triskaidekaphobia. <br /><br />I leave with my pockets lighter. <br /><br />Is it proof I should quit this game? <br /><br />Neigh.<br /><br />John Davis Frainhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/18020019400599228492noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-27399135107781240902020-04-19T02:19:53.401-04:002020-04-19T02:19:53.401-04:00He met her smoking outside a bar. She loved risks;...He met her smoking outside a bar. She loved risks; his normally came in spreadsheets. It was intoxicating.<br /><br />She set him dares, each proof of his dedication. Then one night she whispered, "Bring down the system," eyes shining.<br /><br />His heart pounded.<br /><br />But he was only one banker.<br /><br />It was hard to keep his nerve, transaction after transaction. He was sure <br />the boss would notice. One slip, and he'd forfeit everything. He sweated.<br /><br />Finally: success! He crowded out of Lehman, cardboard box in arms.<br /><br />She was gone.<br /><br />Later, he discovered she'd invested in gold.<br /><br />Mama always said never date a dragon.<br /><br />NLiuhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/00184714542401822508noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-86104264463581519752020-04-19T00:59:02.649-04:002020-04-19T00:59:02.649-04:00Brisk walk down the strip before I steel myself to...Brisk walk down the strip before I steel myself to take a seat at the blackjack table.<br /><br />Nerves of steel, hell, let’s be honest, nerves buoyed by eighty-proof bourbon. <br /><br />I don’t win here, I forfeit everything. Not an option. Not an A or a B option. Not an option, period. <br /><br />Loss. Loss. Loss. Double eights. Split them. Banker says always split the eights.<br /><br />Odds favor the house, always. But I believe in bucking the odds. Always.<br /><br />House busts. I win. Play a few more hands; win more than I lose.<br /><br />May and June covered. Be back in July.<br />RosannaMhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/06399732751877180737noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-43123746739975273162020-04-19T00:00:54.009-04:002020-04-19T00:00:54.009-04:00The cryptobank error washes me in neon red.
The...The cryptobank error washes me in neon red. <br /><br /><br /><i>There’s no time for this; Meeka’s by herself.</i> <br /><br /><br />I slam my mech arm into the kiosk, reverberations rippling from pins to bone. <br /><br /><br /><i>This ruster is killing me.</i><br /><br /><br />Re-punching the cryptocode, my fingers are stiff, sluggish. I tuck them inside my inner vest.<br /><br /><br />Whirs. Beeps. Error. <br /><br /><br /><i>Please, not tonight.</i><br /><br /><br />The tarp roof sags and rain pools inside the box. <br /><br /><br /><i>Just 20 cryps. . .</i><br /><br /><br />That’d get us hot broth from Ling’s, maybe a dry cot under Easterly Bridge, but the message doesn’t change: quota unmet; wages forfeit.<br /><br /><br />Outside again, I tell Meeka, <i>Tomorrow. For sure.</i>Efa Foyhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/12715896194319992751noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-48017112654768303482020-04-18T22:22:09.667-04:002020-04-18T22:22:09.667-04:00She rushes the barricade and fills her arms with b...She rushes the barricade and fills her arms with babies.<br />Ignoring her nerves and the risk.<br />"Ma'am, you can't do that!"<br />She reaches into her coat. <br />Manager raises his hands like a banker without a panic button. <br />She throws down a Franklin.<br />"We aren't allowed to sell them!"<br />She isn't a thief, she's a liberator.<br /><br />She tucks the darlings in their bed.<br />Germ-proof neighbor makes a call.<br /><br />Cop snatches them back with six-foot arms.<br />Slams them in the trunk.<br />"Unessential."<br /><br />This year she'll buy vegetables from states that haven't banned growing them.<br /><br /><br /><br />Luraleehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/09652379287628042507noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-18586349064125509682020-04-18T21:46:00.402-04:002020-04-18T21:46:00.402-04:00Tell me straight, what’re the odds against it?
It’...Tell me straight, what’re the odds against it?<br />It’s a long shot. I’m afraid we’ll come to grief.<br />I won’t bolt. It’s money inna bank. Er. Pocket. <br />You’ve nerve enough. But if they come back with an enquiry? I’d forfeit everything. I don’t like playing for such high stakes. I need proof you’ve got the whip hand.<br />What about a trial run? For kicks. Lessen the risk, y’see? ‘Sides, wild horses couldn’t catch me. Not to brag, but I’m a dead cert. I got an edge!<br />All right. I’ll create a smokescreen. You go take that candy from that baby.Leilanihttps://www.blogger.com/profile/08948847733088202324noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-18741508236279218022020-04-18T20:39:17.292-04:002020-04-18T20:39:17.292-04:00Charles’ club. The retired rear admiral waves us o...Charles’ club. The retired rear admiral waves us over. “How's the left hand?”<br /><br />I splay the new fingers. Slowly. "Nerves're still dodgy."<br /><br />“But no chance of rejection?”<br /><br />“Always a risk. But there's a bigger issue. Remember the donor?”<br /><br />“A...dead banker?”<br /><br />“Learned he’s buried. With both hands.”<br /><br />“But...there's proof. PAPERWORK!”<br /><br />“Counter--”<br /><br />“FOR--”<br /><br />“--feit.”<br /><br />“--GOD'S SAKE!”<br /><br />"There's worse," Chico says.<br /><br />“Worse?”<br /><br />Chico offers a folder. "I ran Sid's new prints."<br /><br />Charles reads. Blanches.<br /><br />Reginald Stout. Missing six months. Jenny Roland’s husband.<br /><br />Jenny’s my ex.<br /><br />Charles' daughter.<br /><br />“Wh-what now?”<br /><br />“Sid Halley-Chico Barnes Investigations is back. To nail the responsible bastards.”C. Dan Castrohttps://www.blogger.com/profile/15648247329883078385noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-67247307672578831672020-04-18T20:35:40.584-04:002020-04-18T20:35:40.584-04:00Their furtive glances. The fidgets in cold folding...<br />Their furtive glances. The fidgets in cold folding metal chairs. Proof that they, like me, craved change. But they held their tongues, afraid to forfeit the silence, the anonymity.<br /><br />"It's an open forum," I began. "Let's brainstorm."<br /><br />"I spend my life feeding some monopoly. The electric company. The water works."<br /><br />"I'm not cut out for surgery. I always touch a nerve during an operation." <br /><br />"We should ban KerPlunk! And Risk. They're <i>Satan's tools.</i>"<br /><br />Confusion overruled diplomacy.<br /><br />"What are you people talking about?" I snapped.<br /><br />KerPlunk Lady held up my flyer. <br /><br />Hmmm. <br /><br />Perhaps I erred in calling it simply "Game Changers."<br /><br /><br />Michael Seesehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/03694187657718931214noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-73185635249784538992020-04-18T20:06:26.812-04:002020-04-18T20:06:26.812-04:00The antidote was in her pocket. Nothing left to fo...The antidote was in her pocket. Nothing left to forfeit.<br /><br />She steadied her nerves and walked into the hospital wing. Her face mask provided the proper cover. <br /><br />She found the elderly gentleman on a ventilator. She injected him with the antidote, and waited until his breathing became less labored. Gently, she switched the ventilator off, and let him breathe on his own. <br /><br />“Rest well, grandpa.” She left, knowing the risk of urban kerfuffle.<br /><br />He got better, and then he didn’t. Nurses used his antibodies on patients and they recovered. <br /><br />No one had any proof.Karen McCoyhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/02640324898284007337noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-55343682783329494672020-04-18T18:27:39.422-04:002020-04-18T18:27:39.422-04:00Rub adub dub, three men in a tub: a Butcher, a BAN...Rub adub dub, three men in a tub: a Butcher, a BANKER, and a sore loser, our very own Kanker.<br /><br />These men run the Ship of State; legitimacy is theirs to FORFEIT during these days of plague.<br /><br />Angry, the Butcher pulls out his cleaver. As his PROOF of NERVE and fearlessness, the Banker holds up his shield: his RISK-free financials. Blood and gore flow everywhere. <br /><br />Tired and poorer, Kanker just wants to kick the soccer ball around. He wallops it against the side of the tub, creating a whole and making the Ship of State list.Ly Kessehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/05934641232058610364noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-34746227362799622072020-04-18T17:43:07.221-04:002020-04-18T17:43:07.221-04:00“Get off!” –orf! “Either you get off now or I’ll—”...“Get off!”<i> –orf! </i>“Either you get off now or I’ll—”<br />“No way. You better pr—” <i>–oof! </i>“—pray they don’t—”<br /><i>Ow! </i>“Pray they don’t what? Go ahead, say it.”<br />“Pray they don’t ban—” <i>kerFLUMP!</i> “—ban you—”<br />“Ban ME!? They wouldn’t—” <i>–FOOMPHHH!</i><br /> “You don’t know a ri—” <i>-skkkkktch </i>“—rib from a femur, so how would you—”<br /><i>-waYOWWWWW! </i>“I know THEM, and that’s what counts, you foul-breathed ner—"<br />“Very funny, whisker-face. You know NOTHING. I, however, am Beloved--” <br />“WAIT! they’re up!”<br />“They’re up?” <i>-whampwhampwhamp—</i><br />“They’re up!”<br />“Food?”<br />“FOOD!”<br />“Peace?”<br />“Peace.”flashfridayhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/06204676781876215647noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-28617764277005484312020-04-18T16:40:26.345-04:002020-04-18T16:40:26.345-04:00"Getting married is risky under any circumsta..."Getting married is risky under any circumstances," Del agreed calmly.<br /><br />The groom coughed. "I think I have COVID."<br /><br />"I think you have cold feet. Do you want to meet her or not? You forfeit the e-chapel in thirty minutes. She has four other matches waiting."<br /><br />"Sorry. Just nerves."<br /><br />"Both Proofs of Health came through, the bankers gave their approval, and your Match Score was a whopping 87%."<br /><br />"That's good?"<br /><br />"Excellent. She can move in as soon as you commit."<br /><br />The groom squared his screen. "Let's do this."<br /><br />Del tapped to add the bride to the call. The wedding march blared.Brigidhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/13768090206152536761noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-2810285950241194422020-04-18T15:57:10.453-04:002020-04-18T15:57:10.453-04:00There’s hot money on Smokescreen. He’s a dead cert...There’s hot money on Smokescreen. He’s a dead cert, really. In The Frame is odds against. <br /><br />I might forfeit respect today, but I’ll take that risk. More than the purse, what I’ll make betting my 100-1 longshot will keep the banker at bay. No proof of talent needed to enter, just nerve. Rule number one of this game: anything can happen.<br /><br />Mid-stretch, Frame gets his second wind and bolts straight through a break in the pack for a flying finish.<br /><br /><i>Enquiry</i> flashes on the board, and now my comeback in this rat race is in the hands of the stewards.<br />Linda Shantzhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/12802634921051188131noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-10900954711572483462020-04-18T15:47:31.321-04:002020-04-18T15:47:31.321-04:00“Banker’s Forfeit.”
The bookie frowned at the mone...“Banker’s Forfeit.”<br />The bookie frowned at the money on the counter. Scott wanted to bet more, but this was the most he could quickly pull together.<br />“You sure?” the bookie said. “She’s 10-1.”<br />“Yes,” said Scott. He normally didn’t have the nerve for gambling, but had run out of options.<br />2pm. The thunder of hooves beat through the wall-mounted television. Banker’s Forfeit led early, but Risk Proof charged through stealing victory in the last lap.<br />Scott considered the Board of Directors. His customers’ life savings.<br />He pulled a gun.<br />The bookie ducked. But the single shot was not for him.Colin Smithhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/03292997431935215499noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-18529336790363752052020-04-18T15:41:44.533-04:002020-04-18T15:41:44.533-04:00Standing along the river bank, errant knight and b...Standing along the river <b>bank, er</b>rant knight and besotted priest paid their respects to their fallen part<b>ner.<br /> <br />“Ve</b>ngeful fool.” The priest took a long pull from his wineskin. “Shoulda left well enough alone. Life was <b>forfeit</b> the moment he pulled a knife on the duke.”<br /><br />“Nay, my friend. Wronged, he was. And in the right.” <br /><br />“Hmmph. Stupid, he was. Too damn <b>pr—oof</b>!” The priest clutched his stomach, broke wind loudly. “’Scuse me—proud for his own good.”<br /><br />“Proud, aye.” The knight nodded. “‘Twas hub<b>ris k</b>illed him.”<br /><br />“No.” The priest hiccupped. “Pretty sure that was the axe.”Matt Krizanhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/08909856237141692181noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-430364278153002502020-04-18T13:50:30.543-04:002020-04-18T13:50:30.543-04:00
Anything for the part. Lose 20. Gain 50. Any role...<br />Anything for the part. Lose 20. Gain 50. Any role, any price.<br /><br />Proof: this time, look twenty for “Little Mermaid 3.”<br /><br />She hit up the banker for 12K, worked up nerve to risk surgery during a pandemic.<br /><br />Back home, bandaged face, stitches in neck, then a tickle in throat.<br /><br />Soon wracking, unstoppable coughing. Bloody bandages, loose stitches. No EMT.<br /><br />She loosened gauze to see gaping slits from ear to collarbone that flapped with each cough.<br /><br />Her career forfeited for vanity, she filled the tub and sunk under- inhaling deeply. The slits, now gills took over. <br /><br />NYT Review: Best mermaid ever.<br />S.D.Kinghttps://www.blogger.com/profile/05707682524268581476noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-58685159711893751452020-04-18T13:44:13.643-04:002020-04-18T13:44:13.643-04:00It was such a risk these days going outside. You c...It was such a risk these days going outside. You could forget dating. Howard really regretted not getting a girlfriend before lockdown.<br />He’d kept his nerve with the stunning Juliette though- asked her for proof of income and job prospects on their last pre-lockdown date. <br />Her parting shot, “Once a banker, always a w*****!” had been hurtful.<br />How he wished he’d lowered his standards. He’d have someone to play Forfeit with and even Strip Poker.<br />Howard sighed, scratched his belly, slurped another beer, and considered changing his vest and boxers.<br />Yeah, she was really missing out. Big time.alyson fayehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/13315744969421895990noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-19604199863343566232020-04-18T13:28:57.075-04:002020-04-18T13:28:57.075-04:00Doubles tennis.
I hide a wince. If it isn’t stee...Doubles tennis. <br /><br />I hide a wince. If it isn’t steeplechasing, I hate it. <br /><br />Crankworth smiles too widely as he serves, the keener. Very suspicious. <i>Oof.</i><br /><br />Kaari isn’t my girlfriend. More of a part-time lesbian soul mate with a penchant... <i>Grunt.</i><br /><br />…for bigamy.<br /><br />Rough? No. Complicated, like doing the… <i>Thwack.</i><br /><br />…acrostic crosswords. <i>Ugh.</i><br /><br />Now Crankworth gets angry. Over the steep roof, bounces off my Morris Kar<br /><br />(couldn’t afford the real thing)<br /><br />into the banker’s box on his veranda. And the evidence bounces out.<br /><br />So what if he tortures me a bit now. All I wanted was to forfeit the bloody game.JanRhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/06827142186097605430noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-17975715815681823052020-04-18T13:28:50.170-04:002020-04-18T13:28:50.170-04:00I was exposed to the current nightmare. A phone ca...I was exposed to the current nightmare. A phone call gave the proof. Another example of the risk of being subservient to good intentions.<br /><br />The people I was working to help are not bankers, they are homeless and their population has been hurt at least as much as the population as a whole. They have less to forfeit, but their food chain has fallen. The restaurant dumpsters are empty.<br /><br />I helped get four sick people into the hospital, then a cough betrayed me. My nerve was shaken when thousands jumped my spot on the testing queue. I might never know.Craig Fhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/07157301156577795781noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-41076276813947659872020-04-18T12:25:53.348-04:002020-04-18T12:25:53.348-04:00The whiskey was 80 proof and the least risky part ...The whiskey was 80 proof and the least risky part of the evening. Glasses were poured. Same ritual since college. No forfeiting allowed.<br />Once roommates, now Jim was a banker, Ray a doctor, and Ben unemployed. <br />“Never have I ever…” it started.<br />“…been disbarred,” said Jim. Ben drank. <br />“…gone bankrupt,” said Ray. Ben drank.<br />Soon nerves were high and inhibitions low. <br />“…slept with Ben’s wife,” said Ray. Jim looked away. <br />“…killed a man.” Ben glared. No one drank.<br />Ben pulled out a gun and aimed it at Jim, then Ray. “Yet.”<br />He pulled the trigger twice then downed a shot. Mallory Lovehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/16282261391938135052noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-36166111666867826042020-04-18T12:23:32.750-04:002020-04-18T12:23:32.750-04:00I want to be her, so worldly and warm-blooded.
“...I want to <i>be</i> her, so worldly and warm-blooded.<br /> <br />“Got no time <b>for feit</b> kids,” her dismissive slang chases blue smoke.<br /> <br />“I’m b<b>risk</b>,” praying I have the lingo right. <br /><br />She smirks, needs some <b>proof</b>, “You mean ‘cool’? Got <b>nerve</b> but no <b>bank, Er</b>in. Hell, don’t even gotta body.”<br /><br />I’m not offended – she’s right. I don’t have much of a body. <br /><br />The less faith she has, the thinner I get. <br /><br />Always goes this way – People doubt. I disappear. <br /><br />She flicks her cigarette. <br /><br />It sails through my sternum.<br /><br />I fade.<br /><br />We wraiths require <i>someone</i> to believe if we’re going to stick around. <br />Lora Senfhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/14550409759041007831noreply@blogger.com