falsh fiction for aspiring writers

The village

Prompt by https://flashfictionforaspiringwriters.wordpress.com/

Near the beach in Sicily laid a village. Old italian houses raised no more than three
stories high, made of brown brick walls, walls that had ears. Sunshine encompassed the
village that day, the sun was up and there were no clouds to be seen. Tourist walked the
alleys taking in the aroma of the traditional italian pizzas being made in the ovens.
Happy faces everywhere, italian people shouting out of the top of their longs for the tourists to
pass by their shops. The italians where great sellers, the tourist flocked their shops, never mind
the beach which was now soaked in red water, body parts floating about and he was
there waiting. The walls had told him all that he needed to know. He was eating a leg of a female,
chewing her toenails while the water splashed against his bloodied face. It was his village,
and he was tired of the tourist. He would make them pay. He now waited patiently for the next
group.

Stay Frosty gents and gentesses.

Marlboro Man

kitchen-window[1]Another Friday of Friday Fictionairees by https://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/2015/12/16/18-december-2015/

He looked out the window and he saw what it seemed an army of police men,
from his left pocket he took out his Marlboro pack and lit up what would
be his last cigarette, he wasn´t going to pay again. He inhaled slowly the smoke,
he had no rush. They could sit there trying to negotiate all they wanted.
They didn´t know.

A loud gun shot was heard by the police standing outside. They quickly entered
and found him on the floor with the cigarette still in his mouth, the pack of
Marlboro in his left hand and blood gushing out of his head. A sneaky photographer
of the New York Times took a picture of the grisly scene and wrote a column
about the incident later on, making fun of the man.

In his right hand was a letter, the detective grabbed it and read ” I refuse to get fined
again for smoking in a public space, this overly politically correct bullshit is what´s
killing me, the second hand smoke while smoking in front of a building in Manhattan is not
going to cause cancer to a passerby while there is a gush of wind. Parents frowning on me
because I smoke in the car with my children makes me want to kill them.”

Next week in downtown Manhattan there was thousands of people with a Marlboro
cigarette in their mouth puffing as much smoke to the ozone layer as they could,
which didn´t brake by the way as authorities had warned.

They Chanted, “Marlboro Man!!” He created the smoking revolution.

Stay Frosty gents and gentesses.