Totally stealing Mur’s idea of writing a flash fic for They Might Be Giants songs. But I’m doing it for Fall Out Boy’s Folie à Deux album. Borrowing the ideas of the songs. All of these fics will fit into the novel series I’m writing called Sarah’s Requiem. Think of the stories as a prequel to the novel. So you’re getting a sneak peek of what’s to come.

Sarah Doyle is a consultant to the Downtown Chicago’s Police District, mostly it’s homicide division. She lives and works with her best friend Iyana Jones, who is a journalist and wanna be Romance novelist. Sarah’s unique quirks make her disliked by all at the police force, except a few close friends.

————————

The (Shipped) Gold Standard
You can only blame your problems on my world for so long
Before it all becomes the same old song - Fall Out Boy
by Tabitha Grace Smith

The door creaked, but Sarah didn’t turn around. “I brought you some coffee,” Iyana said. “Aren’t you cold out here?”

Sarah looked around at the twinkling lights of the city. The balcony of their condo offered a view of the winding Chicago river and the skyline. She turned to Iyana, “not as cold as it’s gonna get.”

Iyana nodded and sat in a chair next to Sarah, handing her the coffee as she sat. “Wait, did you mean metaphorically?”

Sarah smiled and sipped the coffee.

“‘Cuz if you meant metaphorically, I was going to raz you about leaving the florid prose to me.” Iyana grinned slyly and cupped her mug of hot tea and looked out to the skyline. She could see the orange lights of the John Hancock. The colored lights at the top changed with the season, and now it seemed to be celebrate Halloween. The Wrigley Building had probably changed their colors as well. “How long are you planning on staying out here?” Iyana said after sipping her mug.

“Until my nose freezes I think.” Sarah motioned to the mug in her hand. “Which will be a lot later now that I have this.”

Iyana sighed exageratedly. “I’m such a bad influence on you.”

Sarah laughed, the sides of her eyes wrinkling as she did so. Iyana joined her with a giggle. “Okay, it wasn’t that funny.”

“I haven’t had a lot of sleep lately, everything is funny.” Sarah said.

“True, I wonder why lack of sleep makes things funnier.”

“Probably because lack of sleep is akin to alcoholism. After 36 hours you should be declared legally drunk.”

“You haven’t been up that long have you?” Iyana grinned. “Let me know now and I’ll take away your car keys.”

Sarah laughed again. “No, not that long.”

“What have you been thinking about with all your lack-of-sleep time?”

“That I should quit being a consultant with Chicago PD.” Sarah said running a finger around the edge of her mug.

Iyana blinked. “And do what?”

“Become an accountant.” Sarah said with a twinkle in her eye.

“Oh, that will be wonderful. You’re lousy at math, Sarah.” Iyana shook her head. “Seriously now. What would you do?”

“Seriously? I don’t know. Live off my best friend, the writer?”

“Ha!” Iyana barked with a laugh. “The day my paycheck for freelance writing pays the bills around here, I’ll dye the Chicago River purple.”

“Kind of steals the thunder of Saint Patrick’s Day doesn’t it?”

“Like I care about a bunch of drunk Irish men.” Iyana said. She sighed softly. “Why would you quit being a consultant? You love your job.”

“Job doesn’t love me.” Sarah sipped her coffee and set the mug aside. “And I’m tired of the cold. We could get our passports renewed and go to Mexico.”

“Is this about talking to the dead people?” Iyana put a hand on Sarah’s arm. “If so, why don’t you just stop?”

“I can’t Iyana. They’re right there. It would be rude.” Sarah sighed and rubbed her eyes. “I know they’re not real. I know they’re not ghosts. I just… I can’t think without talking to them.”

Iyana patted Sarah’s arm reassuringly. “So not doing the one job you love is the answer? Sarah, I know you, you’d be miserable everywhere else.”

“Maybe we could move back to California. I miss palm trees.”

“I’ll plant some by the lake.”

“Better hurry before it gets cold.” Sarah stood. “No one likes me Iyana.”

“I like you.”

Sarah rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean.”

Iyana nodded. “I do know what you mean. But it’s not because they think you’re weird Sarah, it’s because you push them away while you’re weird. I mean Freddy alone would –”

Sarah waved a hand in the air as if pushing Iyana’s words away. “Freddy, Ortiz, the Lieutenant… none of them like me.”

“They would if you gave them a chance, Sarah. You’re afraid of being their friend. Since Jeremy –” Iyana traild off. “SInce Jeremy, you just haven’t been yourself.”

“There’s no resolution, Iyana. I can’t say case closed. I can’t put Jeremy to rest. We can’t find out why he betrayed me. Why he almost killed you. Why two months later he exploded in his car.” Sarah looked over the edge of the balcony. “I can’t end it.”

Iyana rose and stood beside Sarah. “Stop blaming the world for you not moving forward, Sarah. And stop punishing the people you work with. If you want to quit, fine. We quit. But don’t make this about them when clearly it’s about you.” Iyana turned and started for the door.

“Iyana?” Sarah said softly.

“Yes?” Iyana paused at the doorway.

“I’m glad you’re my friend.” Sarah said. “I’m…”

“Apology accepted my friend. Don’t stay out here too long, I don’t want to defrost you tomorrow.” Iyana smiled and stepped inside, closing the door behind her as she went.

Sarah stared out into the city. Somewhere out there someone knew the truth of Jeremy’s death. Someone who wasn’t her. She was tired of not knowing, tired of solving other crimes but this one, tired of not being able to say she loved Jeremy. How could she love someone who betrayed her?

Accountant was looking more enjoyable every minute.

——–

Sarah’s Requiem Flash Fiction by Tabitha Grace Smith is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License. Based on a work at www.fantabzulous.com.

No related posts.

Related posts brought to you by Yet Another Related Posts Plugin.

Totally stealing Mur’s idea of writing a flash fic for They Might Be Giants songs. But I’m doing it for Fall Out Boy’s Folie à Deux album. Borrowing the ideas of the songs. All of these fics will fit into the novel series I’m writing called Sarah’s Requiem. Think of the stories as a prequel to the novel. So you’re getting a sneak peek of what’s to come.

Sarah Doyle is a consultant to the Downtown Chicago’s Police District, mostly it’s homicide division. She lives and works with her best friend Iyana Jones, who is a journalist and wanna be Romance novelist. Sarah’s unique quirks make her disliked by all at the police force, except a few close friends.

————————

Headfirst Slide Into Cooperstown On a Bad Bet

“Does your husband know the way that the sunshine gleams from your wedding band?” – Fall Out Boy

by Tabitha Grace Smith

There’s probably nothing that could prepare you for there being no more. Get hungry, smell the wafting scent of your favorite meal and you automatically can taste it on your tongue. You can feel the sensation of the food in your mouth. Your body seems set to prepare you for taking that first bite. Then, you walk into the kitchen, only to find out that the meal is gone.

Dying, I imagine, can kind of be like that. You always think you have one more minute, years to go, something big just on the horizon. Then, you’re gone. From the beginning of time it’s been all about the end.

Of course, you can be philosophical when you’re dead. Well, I’m not really dead. I’m more of an imaginary figment in Sarah Doyle’s twisted imagination. But I digress.

I am dead.

“From the condition of the body it’s not been long.” Freddy presses his glasses up the bridge of his nose and looks up at Dectective Ortiz. “You’re looking at a time frame of six hours, maximum.”

Ortiz snaps her gum and gives Freddy a bit of a glare as she jots something in her notebook. “Why can’t you be all fancy like those CSI boys on TV?”

Freddy stands pulling off his latex gloves. “That’s TV Ortiz. I’ll be happy to elucidate what ‘fiction’ means at a later date.”

“Eluca– who?” Ortiz looks Freddy up and down. “You talking dirty to me?”

“Of course not,” Freddy blushes almost instantly and drops his gaze.

“He means explain.” Sarah wanders behind the pair as she gazes at the ceiling. Without skipping a beat she further explains, “and he enjoys talking dirty.”

“Sarah!” Iyana hisses. She’s got an arm snaked in Sarah’s as the two walk. She’s been doing that for awhile now. Almost everyone in the homicide department is convinced Sarah’s lost a mental hinge and now Iyana has become wet nurse.

“What?” Sarah says. Then she sips on the coffee she’s carrying and fiddles with the lid. “He does.”

“And you know this through personal experience?” Iyana rolls her eyes. “Most of the time you don’t even notice Freddy is around.”

“Freddy is the medical examiner. Of course I notice he’s around.”

“Freddy’s also still in the room,” Freddy says with a slight squeak in his voice. “And I have a body I need to get to the morgue.”

“You think I notice Freddy don’t you?” Sarah asks me. I kind of shrug. I’m a guy after all, and dead, and a dead figment of her imagination. I don’t know much beyond what she knows.

“I just said I didn’t,” Iyana says dragging Sarah into the next room.

“I know Iyana, I’m not stupid. I was asking Peter.”

“The dead guy?” Iyana sighs and rubs her forehead. “Sarah, this is not the Sixth Sense, you don’t see dead people.”

“I do.”

“You don’t.”

“I don’t.” Sarah takes another sip.

“You agree with me?” Iyana says hopefully.

“No, but I am done arguing. These curtains are very interesting.”

“Sarah, you’re not on Next Top Designer, who cares about the curtains.” Iyana says.

“Not Peter. Did you Peter?” Sarah rubs her chin softly. “He did care about appearance.”

“The man lives in the hottest apartment building on the Gold Coast,” Iyana spins slowly as if emphasizing the size of the bedroom they were standing in. “This is kind of an appearance statement all of it’s own.”

“But, the curtains don’t match the interor design. This is the exact same bedroom design from last month’s ‘Interior Design’ Magazine.”

“I’m trying to decide if I should question you still talking to Peter or the fact that you read Interor Design Magazine.”

“Everything is the same but the curtains. The seems are crooked.”

“He had handmaid curtains?” Iyana blinks.

“Exactly.” Sarah moves around on her heel. “And two toothbrushes.”

“He was seeing someone.”

“A married someone.” Sarah taps her lips.

“Why a married someone?” Iyana raises her eyebrows. “You’re guessing!”

“Am not.”

“Are too. You’re a dirty guesser!” Iyana claps her hands together. “After all the times you’ve lectured me, you’re guessing! Where’s my calendar, I want to write this down.”

Sarah tosses Iyana a dirty look. “Come on Ms. Harlequin Romance, you can see it too if you look.”

Iyana bites back a grin and looks around the room. “All I see is a bunch of photos.”

Sarah nods. “And…?”

“And…. the guy has a lot of friends?”

“Do you see any of the photos with someone who could be his girlfriend?” Sarah motions helpfully.

“Maybe it’s a new relationship and he hasn’t had them framed?”

The man let her hang hand-made curtains in his bedroom.” Sarah rocks back on her heels. “That doesn’t happen in a new relationship.”

“Why do people do that?” Iyana looks around the room again. “He was a really good-looking guy. Why sleep with someone else’s wife?”

“Maybe he wanted to be the footnote in someone else’s happiness.” Sarah says. “Maybe he thought he didn’t want to be alone.”

Iyana puts a hand on Sarah’s shoulder and Sarah smiles. “Wonder if she took her wedding ring off…. or left it on…”

“Now that’s out of place, Sarah.” Iyana shakes her head.

“I’m in place. I’m in place and not in outer space.” Sarah smiles.

“That remains to be seen,” Detective Ortiz says as she walks in. “And you’re right, according to the neighbors, Peter Retz was seeing a married woman. No name, but we’re pretty sure we’ve got her on the security cams.”

“See Iyana, I didn’t guess,” Sarah grins and rocks up on her toes, “Not at all.”

Iyana throws Sarah a glance as she picks up her notepad. “You may have won the battle Sarah, but I will one day win the war.”

Sarah sips her coffee and brings it down in front of her. “That doesn’t even make sense.”

——–

Sarah’s Requiem Flash Fiction by Tabitha Grace Smith is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License. Based on a work at www.fantabzulous.com.

No related posts.

Related posts brought to you by Yet Another Related Posts Plugin.

Totally stealing Mur’s idea of writing a flash fic for They Might Be Giants songs. But I’m doing it for Fall Out Boy’s Folie à Deux album. Borrowing the ideas of the songs. All of these fics will fit into the novel series I’m writing called Sarah’s Requiem. Think of the stories as a prequel to the novel. So you’re getting a sneak peek of what’s to come. Sarah Doyle is a consultant to the Downtown Chicago’s Police District, mostly it’s homicide division. She lives and works with her best friend Iyana Jones, who is a journalist and wanna be Romance novelist. Sarah’s unique quirks make her disliked by all at the police force, except a few close friends.

————————

Sarah’s Requiem: Amerca’s Suitehearts

Media, please…

- Fall Out Boy

by Tabitha Grace Smith

"Sarah?" There was a warm hand on her shoulder and warm tones in the voice, but Sarah didn’t even blink. "You shouldn’t be here."

Blinking and looking up, Sarah saw Brandi Miles looking down at her.

"It’s a free country Brandi," Iyana said, biting the inside of her cheek.

"The media is here, they’re going to have a field day with our recently hired consultant at her ex-boyfriend’s funeral." Brandi swept some of her hair behind her ear and smiled. The smile looked like something on a Crest ad. Sarah wondered if Brandi had been to the dentist recently. "It’s best if keep that out of the papers."

Iyana shoved her hands in the pocket of dress pants and rocked back on her heels. She glanced at Sarah, but knew that Sarah wasn’t going to say anything. Looking back at Brandi she said slowly, "Sarah’s going to go where she wants to go."

Brandi stepped closer to Iyana, bending forward so she could stare into Iyana’s eyes. "Sarah is loopy and you should be protecting from herself."

Iyana’s fists tightened slightly, but she made a conscious effort to keep them in her pockets. "The Lieutenant didn’t tell Sarah to stay away from this. She is going to Jeremy’s funeral."

There was a sharp bark of laughter and Brandi straighten to her full height, which was impressive without the high heels she was wearing. "They’re going to eat her alive. I was trying to be helpful."

"I heard there’s a string of donut robberies in Printer’s Row. Maybe you can be helpful over there…" Iyana took Sarah’s arm and guided her around where Brandi was standing.

"You can’t hold Sarah’s hand forever Jones!" Brandi called after the pair. "She’s a liability and I’m going to make sure the Lieutenant knows it!"

When they were out of earshot Iyana rubbed Sarah’s arm. "She’s right you know. As much as I hate to admit it, you shouldn’t be here Sarah. The minute the news teams see you, they’re going to be all over you."

Sarah didn’t respond.

Taking a deep sigh, Iyana continued. "Besides, Jeremy tried to kill both of us. He betrayed you. He nearly –"

"I don’t." Sarah’s voice was sharp and sudden, enough so that Iyana stopped cold. Sarah stopped, relaxing her shoulders and restarting in a softer voice. "I don’t want to talk about Iyana." Looking around the street Sarah glanced up at the large crucifix statute on the side of the brick church. Oak Street was surprisingly quiet for it being the weekend, almost eerily so. "I’m sorry."

Iyana smiled slightly and gave Sarah a quick side hug. "It’s okay. We’re friends. We’ll figure it out."

The two continued to the church’s back entrance. "Why a classic car though?" Sarah said as they reached the door.

"Hmm?"

"They killed Jeremy with a car bomb in a classic car. Why?"

"I don’t know Sarah, maybe they’re easier to blow up? I don’t know a lot about classic cars." Iyana held the door open.

"It’s going to bother me." Sarah said, stepping into the doorway.

Sarah sighed and smiled. "I know Sarah, I know."

——–

Sarah’s Requiem Flash Fiction by Tabitha Grace Smith is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License. Based on a work at www.fantabzulous.com.

No related posts.

Related posts brought to you by Yet Another Related Posts Plugin.

Totally stealing Mur’s idea of writing a flash fic for They Might Be Giants songs. But I’m doing it for Fall Out Boy’s Folie à Deux album. Borrowing the ideas of the songs. All of these fics will fit into the novel series I’m writing called Sarah’s Requiem. Think of the stories as a prequel to the novel. So you’re getting a sneak peek of what’s to come.

Sarah Doyle is a consultant to the Downtown Chicago’s Police District, mostly it’s homicide division. She lives and works with her best friend Iyana Jones, who is a journalist and wanna be Romance novelist. Sarah’s unique quirks make her disliked by all at the police force, except a few close friends.

————————

She’s My Winona

"Life’s just a pace-car on death
Only less diligent" – Fall Out Boy

by Tabitha Grace Smith

"Jeremy!" Sarah lunged towards the explosion seconds after it happened. Iyana could barely hear her through the ringing in her ears, but she grabbed Sarah before she could go any further. The fire had spread too quickly for there to be anything left.

Sarah fought against Iyana’s grasp, but only for a moment. With nearly five inches on Iyana, it was a fight Sarah could have won, but instead she fell back onto the street, collapsing into a pile. "Jeremy… he’s in there."

Iyana turned to where "there" was. Unfortunately was described the picture almost completely. After months of tracking Jeremy down, Sarah had finally caught up to her former lover, the man who had nearly killed both Sarah and Iyana, the man who now had exploded in his car.

Iyana blinked slowly, She knew she was in shock, she knew that Sarah was in shock, she knew she should use the phone she was clutching in her pocket, but she couldn’t bring herself to move.

"Jeremy’s in there…" Sarah almost crooned the words now. Holding her knees to her chest she rocked slightly backwards. "He’s in there."

Seeing her friend so helpless finally sparked something inside of Iyana and she grabbed the phone and dialed. "9-1-1, what’s your emergency?" The crisp, cool voice on the other end of the line said. Iyana blinked again and opend her mouth, but nothing came out.

"What’s your emergency?" The voice repeated, with a warm but firm tone

"There’s… there’s been…."

"A car explosion? I’ve tracked your cellphone are you at the corner of Clark and Addison?"

Iyana nodded, then realized the woman on the other end of the phone couldn’t see her. "Yes, by the red line stop."

"Police and ambulance are on their way," The woman said. "Are you okay?"

"Jeremy’s not." Iyana said, pausing she added. "He’s in the car."

"The police are on their way. Just stay put until they get there, ma’am."

Iyana nodded again. "There was an explosion." Her voice cracked.

"I know hon, just sit tight."

And so Iyana sat tight. More appropriately she stood, almost towering above Sarah’s huddled frame.

"Too late love, I was too late." Sarah rested her chin on her knees. "Too late."

——–

Sarah’s Requiem Flash Fiction by Tabitha Grace Smith is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.
Based on a work at www.fantabzulous.com.

No related posts.

Related posts brought to you by Yet Another Related Posts Plugin.

Totally stealing Mur’s idea of writing a flash fic for They Might Be Giants songs. But I’m doing it for Fall Out Boy’s Folie à Deux album. Borrowing the ideas of the songs. All of these fics will fit into the novel series I’m writing called Sarah’s Requiem. Think of the stories as a prequel to the novel. So you’re getting a sneak peek of what’s to come.

Sarah Doyle is a consultant to the Downtown Chicago’s Police District, mostly it’s homicide division. She lives and works with her best friend Iyana Jones, who is a journalist and wanna be Romance novelist. Sarah’s unique quirks make her disliked by all at the police force, except a few close friends.

————————

I Don’t Care

“I don’t care what you think. As long as it’s about me. The best of us can find happiness in misery.”

- Fall Out Boy

by Tabitha Grace Smith

Sarah Doyle wasn’t extremely tall. She wasn’t extremely beautiful, or ugly, or fashionable, or unique-looking. There wasn’t really anything that would wow from just looking at her. She had intense blue eyes, blonde hair, and a moderately attractive set of curves. It wasn’t like she was unattractive. But there just wasn’t something that you would say made her extremely remarkable.

What Sarah was, however, was smart. Someone once told her parents to get her tested, but they refused. “Sarah is Sarah,” they explained. “She’ll be as smart or as dumb as she chooses. We won’t let a test determine her future.”

And Sarah was grateful.

“What are you thinking about?” Iyana held the Starbucks cup up to Sarah’s face. “I’ve been standing here for a good five minutes waiting for you to take this.”

Sarah smiled at her friend. “Thinking about the Lieutenant.”

“Him?” Iyana rolled her eyes. “You shouldn’t care what he thinks about you.”

“I don’t.” Sarah sipped her drink slowly. The feeling of warmth soothing her throat. “MMmmmm.” She said softly.

“I think Starbucks laces your drinks with crack. You seem happiest when you’re drinking them.” Iyana shook her head. Her red hair stubbornly staying in place as it peaked out of her warm knit hat.

“We can always go to Mexico,” Sarah said stirring her drink.

“What does that have to do with the Lieutenant?”

“He doesn’t like me. We won’t get cases. And Mexico is warm.” Sarah motioned out to the Chicago street. “It’s cold here.”

“The leaves are barely falling Sarah,” Iyana said, “it’s not even cold yet.”

“So we should go to Mexico.” Sarah tapped the lid of her drink.

“There’s no Starbucks in Mexico.”

“Yes there are. There’s even some in Guam.”

“There’s Starbucks in Guam?”

“Yes. Guam loves coffee.”

“You’re referring to an island as if it was a person,” Iyana handed Sarah a napkin. “And you’re splattering coffee on your shirt.”

“Maybe the Lieutenant didn’t like my shirt.” Sarah said as she dabbed at the spots.

“Yes, I’m sure he goes around not giving people work because of their shirts.” Iyana rolled her eyes. “He wasn’t a big fan of you pointing out his affair with lady at the front desk.”

“Ah.” Sarah sipped her coffee again and fell back into thought.

“You really shouldn’t tell potential employers that they’re doing something they’re trying to keep secret.” Iyana said, leaning across the small table. “They’re not fans of that.”

“They’re not fans of the truth then.” Sarah set the cup down and studied it. “I could pretend this table was an elephant. But that doesn’t mean it is.”

“If someone is paying me to pretend the table is an elephant, I will.” Iyana broke off a piece of her bagel and pointed it at Sarah. “In this economy you need to do the same. You’re a one trick pony Sarah. You’re good at solving crimes. Not to great at anything else.”

“I was a great farmer.”

“That was a school field trip Sarah. That doesn’t count.” Iyana spread some cream cheese on her bagel and chewed it thoughtfully. “Maybe if we send the Lieutenant some nice cognac.”

“You’re gonna bribe him?” Sarah wrinkled her nose.

“No, apologize for you being such an observant person.” Iyana broke off another piece of her bagel and looked at Sarah. “Come on, this is your dream job. We need to make an effort.”

“I was.” Sarah tapped on the table. “I did.”

“But you offended him.”

“He’ll call.”

“Sarah, he’s not going to call.”

“He will.”

Iyana shrugged and spread more creame cheese. “I swear you’d rather be miserable and right, then happy and say you were wrong.”

“I don’t care what he thinks about me, Iyana. He just has to know that I can get the job done.”

——–

Sarah’s Requiem Flash Fiction by Tabitha Grace Smith is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.
Based on a work at www.fantabzulous.com.

No related posts.

Related posts brought to you by Yet Another Related Posts Plugin.

Totally stealing Mur’s idea of writing a flash fic for They Might Be Giants songs. But I’m doing it for Fall Out Boy’s Folie à Deux album. Borrowing the ideas of the songs. All of these fics will fit into the novel series I’m writing called Sarah’s Requiem. Think of the stories as a prequel to the novel. So you’re getting a sneak peek of what’s to come.

Sarah Doyle is a consultant to the Downtown Chicago’s Police District, mostly it’s homicide division. She lives and works with her best friend Iyana Jones, who is a journalist and wanna be Romance novelist. Sarah’s unique quirks make her disliked by all at the police force, except a few close friends.

————————

Disloyal Order of the Water Buffaloes

by Tabitha Grace Smith

Iyana’s head was pounding. She blinked several times, focusing on the ceiling.
What happened?”
Iyana tried to focus on something beyond the parade drum resounding in her head. She moved her hand and felt the softness of sheets, a pillow and her clothes. She was on a bed. How did that happen?

Last thing she had remembered was Sarah and Jeremy laughing as she sipped on another bottle of blueberry beer. It had been night, late. They had just finished a case. But now it was light, enough light to be late morning or afternoon at least.

Iyana blinked again, trying to focus. Jeremy had brought roses. And some CD that made Sarah’s eyes laugh with delight. It was nice to see Sarah so happy.

But what happened next?

“Sarah?” Iyana felt her voice crack stiffly. She felt dry. Had she drank too much last night? It wasn’t something she normally did. Maybe she was trying to celebrate Sarah being so happy. “Sarah?”

She laid there. Sarah would come. Sarah always came. They had been best friends for so long. If there was one thing that Iyana could rely on it was that Sarah always came.

Iyana blinked again, slowly. This was more than a hangover. She’d experienced hangovers. This wasn’t a hangover. Where was Sarah?

“Sarah?!”

Slowly she brought her hand up to her forehead. A white flash of pain made her body tense. Her head hurt. What was wrong with her?

There was a dull thud at the door.

Iyana tried focusing on the sound, but her head was swimming with pain now. Bringing her hand up to her face she saw sticky, half-dried blood. Panic siezed her stomach. Not a hangover, she thought.

Another dull thud at the door made her almost snap her head. And she regretted the movement. “Ghhhhhhhah!” Iyana said, biting her lip. “Get up Jones,” she said to herself. “What’s a little pain compared to the delicious pancakes that you’re gonna make yourself afterwards?”

There was an even louder thud at the door.

Iyana’s eyebrows drew together in a fierce line. “Would you cut that out? Either kill me or stop it.” She grumbled and rose out of bed slowly. “But water torturing the door isn’t gonna make me break.” As soon as she was upright she blinked to clear the fuzzy haze that was clouding her vision.

“Great, spinny room.” Iyana said closing her eyes again. “Not what I ordered.”

She sat for awhile, until she dared risk the room’s equilibrium going off. Then she blinked, her green eyes watering, but the room seemed to be staying in place. “Whose there?”

Another thud at the door.

“Look, SOUNDS aren’t WORDS.” Iyana shot up to her feet and nursed her head with her hand. “I’m coming out there.” Walking across the floor she realized she was in the townhouse she shared with Sarah. “Goodness,” Iyana grumbled. “It’s probably just Justice playing with his stupid rubber ball. That dumb dog.”

The thud happened again. Iyana took a deep breath. “I’m coming Justice but I don’t want to play fetch right now, okay?” Putting a hand on the door knob she turned it and pulled the door open. “Maybe Sarah will —”

As soon as the door opened Iyana looked down at Sarah, calmly tied to one of the dinning room chairs. Sarah blinked up at her, straining at the gag in her mouth.

“Sarah! What hapened.”

“Gupmfffff.” Sarah said, shooting Iyana a dirty look.

“Oh right, sorry.” Iyana moved quickly, almost forgetting the pain in her head, and untied Sarah. Sarah jumped out of the chair and rubbed her wrists.

“I’m so glad you’re allright Iyana. The way you fell out of the bed… I thought he’d killed you.”

“I fell out of a bed?”

Sarah’s eyes went dark for a moment. “Yes, I’m very sorry my friend. You did. We need to get your head looked at.”

“What happened? Why were you tied up? How did I fall out of bed?”

“Jeremy.” Sarah said simply.

“Your boyfriend?”

Sarah was already on her way to the bathroom, calling over her shoulder. “Apparently we’ve broken up.”

——–

Sarah’s Requiem Flash Fiction by Tabitha Grace Smith is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.
Based on a work at www.fantabzulous.com.

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