Undo

“So who’s this Hitler character?”

“German, born 1889, served in the Great War and afterwards active in German Military Intelligence. Rose to be deputy head of intelligence for the Reichswehr; early recipient of Prolong treatments in the late 60s, career with Reichswehr Intelligence stretched all the way to 2000, when he finally retired.”

Kierman leaned back in his chair, watching his superior across the cafe table. He’d abandoned his chai, the way they made it here tasted more like Christmas than like India.

Prompt for Sunday, August 3

An intrepid band of time travelers go back to 1993(!?) in a desperate bid to kill Hitler.

Terror

Everyone just sat there, that’s what I’ll remember. Ali was slumped on the floor of the train car, unconscious, hands clenched around his chest, and everyone just sat there, staring at him.

Then, almost as though they all thought of it at the same time, they all looked at me.

I raised my hands in a placating gesture. “It means ‘God is Great,’” I said. “Think of it as the equivalent of someone saying ‘Oh my God.’” I could tell that my accent wasn’t helping things.

As one, they all looked back down at where Ali was laying. I could have kicked him, the stupid bastard; of all the things to shout when you’re having a heart attack.

Prompt for Saturday, August 2

A man suddenly stands up on a commuter train and says, "Allahu-" then clutches his chest and falls over.

Just as interesting as Coffee and Cigarettes

“It’s too bad someone else isn't here,” Laura said, shifting uncomfortably in her seat in the middle of the coffee shop.

“Why’s that?” asked Sandy.

“Because I’d sure like some coffee.”

“Yes,” Sandy agreed. “If there is literally no one else here but us, that means there is no barista.”

Gone Fishing

Harold was sitting on the seat of his tractor, tuned out, letting the rumble of the engine and the jolting of the suspension move his body without trying to resist, carefully steering the thing back and forth across his field, turning earth. Nobody else was visible for as far as he could see, which was all the way to the horizon; he liked it like that. Harold’s war had been rough, and he didn’t do well with strangers.

He was just making the turn at the end of a row when he saw it come down, maybe half a mile away: something streaking downward, an impression of red, a cloud of dirt where it impacted. Harold resisted the urge to jump off the tractor and burrow into the soft, freshly turned soil; all his nerves screamed “barrage! barrage! barrage!”

Prompt for Friday, August 1

Set piece: two women sit in a coffee shop; no-one else is in the shop.