200 words (2 minute read).
John rolled his sleeves up. It was only by happenstance that he flashed his latest Rolex, a refurbished mechanical he’d acquired in a gambling debt.
The other man passed him a coin. The man would think John was a cheat if he used his own.
He tossed the coin up, and it twirled in the air. Heads or tails? It glinted in the dullness of the affair, and he glimpsed it. Saw its glimmer.
“Tails,” The other man said. He wore an old suit a size too small, and a belly too large to match. No doubt the clothes were his grandpas. John wrinkled his nose. He could smell it – that greased smell of clothes better gone than passed on.
And that belly? No doubt genetics.
The man was drunk and boastful in its challenge.
The winnings? An ornamental sword – that too—belonged to his grandfathers.
Who gambled on a coin toss? A fifty-fifty?
John wasn’t complaining. He always won. He’d win either way.
“Heads,” John said.
The bounced off the ground and spun to a stop. Before the results could settle, John rushed over – unsheathed the sword and beheaded the man in one clean stroke.
“Always heads,” he said.
Written late at night, this fiction is named after the period in which it was written. What late night strokes of humour and genius do you come up with? Share your thoughts below
Explore your fiction.
And love your Reality.