Don't You Remember?

Written for the "Prompt Short Story Writing Contest"

The hard, cold metal of a pistol on the back of my neck sent shivers down my spine. “Put your hands up,” the wielder commanded. The fresh batch snow beneath his feet crunched achingly as he shifted his weight.

I laughed weakly, the volume corresponding with the strength in the shaking upward motion of my arms as I complied, “Ok, Eric, very funny. You can put it down now,” turning my head in trepidation. “Eric! You can put it down now!”

Still no response but the steady press of the gun onto my tender flesh. The cotton mercenaries of my jacket were slain by the cold’s incessant beating. My fingers were beginning to feel like twins of the ice and thin jeans were treasonous, serving the Cold’s brutal rule, insulating the biting chill of its former master.

“Eric, why don’t you say something?” I could hear his breath, humanizing the inanimate hand that gripped the dragon’s fiery mouth. My mind worked feverishly, bounding through the slow hex of the hanged air. Should I run? Grab the weapon?

“You going to kill me? Think you can get out of this mess alone?” Bets on my life were stalked by hungry foxes, preached by preserved carcasses. “You know you need me to get out of this alive.”

“Maybe I’m not interested in living…” the composed tone was ominous, carted over on wheels of fractured ice.

 “What could you possibly mean?” I shoved a nervous laugh in, molding its clay waves to shrink into the round eyes of innocence upon release.

“You know what I’m talking about!” losing his calm stature and battling ferocious revenge with earthly roots of a nurtured friendship.

“I guess you wouldn’t believe me if I told you the truth.”

“What truth?” he yelled, his concentration slipping.

“It wasn’t me, Eric. I didn’t do it,” my skilled hands etching a confidence of verity.

“Then who?” he gritted through his teeth.

 

“You did.”

Author's Note

Written for the "Prompt Short Story Writing Contest."

Unlike my other writing, this is quite short and forces the reader to fill in the blanks by picking up the small details in images and metaphors; the rest left unanswered is for you to create. What did you come up with?

Reviews

[Hiroko]

Pretty cool! It fills my head with ideas and adventures. A racy, fun-to-read story!

[Minki]

They're lovers/secret agents gone rouge. On the run from the law, they've made it to Siberia, but can still glimpse their pursuers on the horizon. Their provisions are running low, and there's no kindling to start a fire; they'll freeze to death unless they find shelter soon. Nothing's in sight. Eric needs his partner with him if they're going to keep running, but it's been years, and Siberia has done unspeakable things to his mind. Going insane, he pulls out the pistol holstered to his belt. He wanted answers. Why wouldn't she give them to him? He bet that she knew things. He bet that she was one of the ones chasing him, reporting back to the Enemy, betraying his trust this whole time. Had it already been nearly a decade since they'd met in school one winter day, one that had been a parody of this freezing hell? He'd forgotten.

They hadn't stolen anything material to become fugitives, only taken information. They KNEW things. That was all. They hadn't taken any papers, not even a flash drive. It had taken months of hacking and word-for-word memorization. Every night while on the run, they'd practiced recalling it, lying side by side in the moonlight, stating facts and sequences. Between them, Eric and the girl, Lila, had memorized every other fact so that only when captured together would anyone have the full story. They were only still together now out of selfishness, to be honest. They were in love.

Back when they were still hacking, Eric had slowly come to feel remorse. Why were they stealing these secrets? Who did they plan to tell that would actually help humanity? There was no one. His mind felt too full. He thought that he had memorized too much for safety. He began talking in his sleep sometimes, stating his facts, and resorted to taking strong sleeping pills to stop before information leaked.

Lila had no such feelings, content to plow on through the information by night, but act cheerful and sunny by day. She'd noticed Eric's weakening, though. She thought it would be nothing. It would go away. But it kept returning, each time more noticeable than before.

Eric attempted suicide, and both of them were interrogated shortly after. Luckily, in the same room. After waiting for hours for their interrogator, Eric drowsed, and without his pills, began murmuring the facts he'd worked so hard to keep secret. Lila shook him awake, but not before the guards had noticed and rushed into the room. It was amazing that they'd escaped before the real torture began.

And now they were on the run. Eric's mental state had seemed better at first, but he was gradually descending into madness. He had started accusing her of trying to kill him. Lila hadn't wanted to go to Siberia. She'd had a feeling that he would crack sometime soon. But now it was too late.