Seems like we have been on a super hero kick this week. Wait, you haven’t read the next piece yet. Sorry…
So ya, it’s Wednesday. I would hope by now that we all know what happens on Wednesdays. But if you don’t, let me explain a little. You see it all begins on Saturday. That is the day that Indies Unlimited posts their picture and word prompt for the flash fiction challenge every week. You have till Tuesday to get a 250 word story written based on the prompts, and then on Wednesdays we start the votes.
That’s right the readers get to vote on their favorite story of the week. It’s a bit arbitrary and subjective and all that but really it’s all about the fun of the stories. You will have the opportunity to check out the different stories that can come from a simple prompt. Ya, people can come up with some crazy stuff sometimes.
As we mention crazy stuff, I just went in search for the link to send you to the vote. It appears that something happened and this story is unavailable for voting. At this time I can say that they are having some technical issues as they expand the site so that could be the cause. So don’t be alarmed, I know the story isn’t there and I am endeavoring to find out why.
This is one of the inmates I met on my little adventure to the asylum. Everyone called him SuperDude.
Most of the time, he seemed as regular a person as you’d ever meet. Once in a while, he would put on his cape and his “helmet of invisibility,” and he would stand watch like this.
I thought it quite amusing until the riot back in November. He showed us all something that day…
Food flew everywhere, mayhem with no hope of control, confusion planned by a couple patients that wanted something more, the morphine from the pharmacy. Superdude had taken a food tray to the face and broke his nose in the cafeteria war. He saw them on his way to the infirmary.
One kept lookout while the other broke the handle of the door and pushed his way inside. The guard had a sharpened butter knife that he tossed back and forth between his hands. Superdude shouldn’t have approached him.
He couldn’t stand by and do nothing, couldn’t continue his march for his own personal needs. Instead Superdude confronted the inmate/guard. With a fist to the man’s nose and then another to his chin, Superdude took him down.
With the first one down he took guard at the door and waited for the other to come out. The second patient called out to his friend, then appeared in the doorway when he received no answer. Superdude stood there in a halo of light reflected from the safety corner mirrors, his hands on his hips. “You can’t win, ruffian,” he said.
The patient sprang for the knife on the floor and threw his shoulder into Superdudes belly. They tumbled to the floor, a scuffle for possession of the blade. After several slashes across his hands and arms they both stopped their struggles. Winded and bleeding Superdude crawled away from the patient lying there with a knife stuck in his chest.