Barb DeMoney
Owen had spent most of his adult life slipping silencers into hidden compartments and taking out thugs. Now retired, he’d traded pistols for pastries and covert ops for crosswords.
Munching on toast, he heard a clang across the hallway. His eyes narrowed. “Moscow, Madrid… and now… the suburbs?” he muttered.
Grabbing a butter knife, he whispered, “Who’s there? Show yourself!”
He readied the knife, heart thudding.
His assassin’s instincts kicked in. A shadow shifted near the potted fern. Target acquired. He calculated the angle. In one fluid motion, he lunged
✱
He slipped on a rogue Lego, lurched forward, and landed onto the couch with a thud.
Mikey, his five-year-old grandson, squealed, “You’re dead, Grandpa!” and unleashed a torrent of water from his tiny water pistol.
“Oh, there you are, Dad,” Katie said, stepping over scattered Legos. “Sorry we showed up unannounced. Looks like Mikey made himself at home.”
Luckily, the only witness to his failed “assassination attempt” had been a pint‑sized mastermind armed with a water gun.
Owen grinned. “You’re trying to kill me, huh? Next time you should call ahead and I’ll bring some reinforcements,” he said, scooping up his grandson.
Mikey grinned, planting a kiss on his cheek. “Sure, Grandpa. But can we make some chocolate chip cookies before we go on another secret mission?”
Owen nodded solemnly, surveying the chaos. He had faced mafia bosses and foreign spies… but today he’d been defeated by a water pistol wielding toddler who had Grandpa wrapped around his little finger.
Barb DeMoney is a flash fiction writer whose work blends drama, comedy and horror.
I haven't left the house in weeks. The changes occurred gradually. Isolated by my mom's passing, my absentee father, no siblings, and few friends. No one noticed.
My hands shook as I scrawled, “Help me. I'm trapped.” I shoved it into an envelope.
Josh whispered to me at our wedding, "I’ll love you forever." My heart melted, now I'm terrified to my core.
Josh stormed into the living room and yelled, “Tricia, get the fuck over here!”
I cowered behind the couch. Afraid to make the wrong move. Did he know I called?
The doorbell rang, interrupting my thoughts. Josh opened the door. The man handed him the pizza and said it's paid for. As Josh slammed the door and went to set the food down, I saw my opportunity. I slid the envelope under the door and prayed the delivery guy would see it. Did Josh notice?
Josh flung the pie down, then lunged at me. Cornering me, spit flew in my face as he shrieked, “I'm going to kill you!”
He choked me as I desperately tried to squirm away, staring at the door. Would help arrive in time? My heart raced as time ticked away.
We struggled as the door flung open, the delivery guy swung full-force at Josh, who turned. He pivoted as a fist went straight into his temple. Josh slumped to the floor.
I collapsed on the couch, crying, as the man called 911. The police arrested Josh, and I finally felt free again.
Barb DeMoney is a flash fiction writer whose work blends drama, comedy and horror.