Control

Number 21 sat on the moistened earth, flinging small pebbles into the opening of a rusty soda can. When the can was full, he shook it until it was empty, moved it another meter and restarted the process. It was now nearly twenty meters away.

By the time the can was half full, number 6 approached and sat and pulled a tuft of grass from the ground and flung each blade into the breeze. You’re getting good, he said.

Number 21 nodded. They can’t hold us here forever.

Not to be a downer, man, but there ain’t a whole lot tossing pebbles is gonna do.

Do you see those acorns? Number 21 asked without looking up.

Where?

On the first tree just past the creek.

I see a tree, number 6 squinted, but I can’t make out any acorns from here.

Number 21 stood and placed his palm face up in the air. In it were five tiny stones. They floated above his palm, then rocketed toward the tree. A faint spattering sound could be heard as the acorns fell to the ground.

Who said anything about tossing?

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Written for Friday Fictioneers. Click here to read others’ work.

Pays des Mille Collines

Tomorrow excavation begins. She looks through her window into her yard at the thin twine stretched tight and straight between two stakes, wrapped around, then stretched between another and another to form a square. They’ve gone ten years without need of a garage. Why now? She leaves the window and slouches at the kitchen table and spreads Nutella on day old bread. Her husband enters. He makes himself black tea with milk and honey. After he finishes he stands and kisses his wife on the forehead. Don’t worry, he says, it’s highly unlikely we’ll — we’ll uncover anything.

UPDATE/EXPLANATION: The title of this piece means in English “Land of a Thousand Hills,” which is the nickname for Rwanda. This story takes place a decade after the Rwandan Genocide. While visiting Rwanda in 2007 I learned that families were still uncovering the remains of victims. Simple things like digging to add a new garage were, in reality, no simple task at all, and were a reminder of the atrocities that took place there.

This flash fiction piece was inspired by this photo prompt provided by Madison Woods.