Friday, March 9, 2012

F*ck Off Friday - FlashFic to WIP

Just the start of an idea floating around...


“You plugged your phone in, right?” Denny asked as he flipped the sheets back.

“Yes, dear.”

“And it’s on? The ringer’s set to loud?”

“Yes, dear,” I sighed as I crawled into bed. I laid back and rested my head on my crossed hands.

“Sorry, Ras, but you did forget the other day.” He slid under the sheets and scooted over to put his head on my chest with a sigh of his own. His fingers tapped along with my heartbeat where they rested on my ribcage. “I just don’t want to miss it if they call.”

I lifted my head and kissed his hair. “I know babe. I don’t want to miss it either, but face it: the likelihood of it happening any time soon is slim to none.”

He propped his elbow on the bed and ran his fingers through his light brown curls. “Don’t think like that. It’s going to happen.” His hazel eyes were shiny in the glow of the alarm clock on the nightstand. I cupped his cheek in one hand, and he leaned into the touch, closing his eyes. “It has to,” he whispered.

I pulled him in for a kiss. “It will babe. We just have to wait.”

He laid back down, and I felt soft kisses along the scar in the center of my chest before he pressed his ear against my skin. I ran my hand down his back, and his breathing evened out. After a few minutes, he started snoring.

I listened to the light snuffling sounds he made in his sleep as I stared at the ceiling and counted my own heartbeats, like I did most nights. Denny never knew, I don’t think. Our bags were packed, and we had copies of the paperwork in a leather folder in Denny’s overnight case. Copies were on file with our lawyer, the hospital, and with my parents, just in case. But I’d stopped waiting for the call after the second month.

Six months ago, I was put on The List. Essentially, I’m waiting for someone to die. Well, the right someone. Who happens to have my blood type, is a tissue match, and has a similar build. Oh, and this person has to die in the right way, so the farmers masquerading as doctors can harvest his organs. And did I mention that it would best that this miraculous match dies in the right way within a couple of hundred miles of me, so the heart that beat in his chest can replace the one that’s going out in mine, so I can get another fifteen years with Denny, if we’re lucky.

No, that’s not too much to ask for at all, is it?


We'll see where this one goes.



  1. Thanks! It's certainly a departure from my usual, but that's the fun part.