Giselle Marks

Regency Romance and Fantasy Author

Time for What? by Giselle Marks – flash fiction

on May 24, 2014


He wanted to slap the condescending smile off doctor’s face as he told him he had three months to live. His words washed over Cameron Anderson, explaining the cancer was too far advanced and there was nothing they could do. He wrote a prescription for pain medication.

Then he continued on, “You’ve got time left Mr. Anderson, time to put your affairs in order. I recommend you enjoy what time you have left. Take a trip, see your family, do things you’ve always wanted to do.”

The doctor’s smile was saccharinely professional but didn’t reach his eyes. Cameron’s hands clenched, but he allowed no emotion to show on his face.  He reached for his script and politely thanked him for his unwanted news.

Cameron shut the door quietly behind him, strolling towards his car with a calm untroubled expression. But his mind was busy considering what the doctor had said.

My will is already made; I have sufficient money to live well or to take any trips I want to. What should I do with my three months? Anything I really want to do would have to be done soon, because I doubt I’ll be able to do much when the pain really kicks in.

At that thought his stomach stabbed with excruciating agony. His mobile phone rang in its hands’ free container; the hospital number was flagged up. Cameron ignored it.

He had no desire for a luxury trip or to see relatives who had little time for him, they were already dealt with. He could picture their faces when his will was read and found he had left them nothing. He had had successes since Asrotech let him go, made money; enough to leave each of his grasping family very well off. They would hate him leaving it all to a drug rehabilitation scheme.

No what he wanted was revenge, revenge against Asrotech for stealing his design of the photo-electric recharging system for electric cars. It made them billions; their head tech got the Nobel Prize. It was putting oil companies and garages out of business all over the world. It had dropped the Arab nations into a downward spiral of recession. The credit and prize should be his.

Cameron packed his car on reaching his house, paid some bills and ignored the blinking of his answer phone. He left his mobile behind and bought a new phone. He was one of the first shareholders to enter the conference room at Asrotech; he noticed a few employees rushing to warn their superiors of his attendance. He had not had difficulty getting what he needed. He sat at the front and smiled pleasantly at former colleagues as they ringed the room nervously. The seating filled up with enthusiastic shareholders who had been doing very well from Asrotech’s sudden prosperity.

The Board of Directors traipsed in with Chairman Horace Kenworthy at their head. They did a double take on seeing him although they must have already been aware of his presence. One of the board read a pompous self-aggrandising statement about their successes and profits. Questions were asked and answered and champagne was served. The meeting was beginning to break up and he stepped forwards towards the board committee and triggered the bomb.

The bloodshed was massive, most of the shareholders escaped uninjured but he brought the ceiling down on the board of directors, only two survived seriously injured. Cameron died instantly.

The hospital had been trying desperately to contact him since he had left the hospital, they had rung his numbers, send a pile of letters apologizing for the mix up. It was unfortunate his notes had been muddled with those of an older Cameron Anderson. All the messages requested that he should come back for treatment for his ulcer and apologized profusely that he had not got cancer at all.


55 word flash!

Blue Ghost Thingy

“Do you see the blue ghost thingy over by that tree, Dear?”

“Sorry, I’ve not got my glasses on, did you say ghost, Arthur?”

“Well it looks like one to me, could be one of them aliens”

“They’re all the rage Arthur, do you think they’ll kidnap us?”

“Shouldn’t think so, Ethel…”

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