How can I move these dumb assholes? We have to raise at least $1500 today. Ephraim seethed, fumbling the pewter collection plate. He settled it on the edge of the parson’s table and considered his next steps. The stakes were high. He would have to be especially clever that evening. Sucking in through badly neglected teeth, he hissed and cackled while crafting his pitch. If only the divine inspired, he could pull it off, he reasoned. Intensifying his efforts, he paced, hands wringing, and chewed the inside of his cheek until it oozed warm blood. The sharp metallic taste aroused him. He visualized wads of greenbacks. It helped. Within moments it all came together. He knew what he would say. He felt wicked, brazen, and properly well prepared. Smirking involuntarily, he peeked through the curtains to watch the suckers queue up to pay the entrance fee. Listening for unwanted footsteps, he pulled the master key out of his tunic pocket and locked the desk drawer. The ledger was now safely hidden from prying eyes; best not to trust anyone. It was not the time for reckoning. That would come later. Ephraim danced light as air on tippy toes like a prizefighter preparing to enter the ring, his moves serpentine and beguiling. He tossed back his head to shake off the excess energy and tone down his ill-timed foolery. He would soon have them in the palm of his hands. For a moment he thought he detected a low murmur emanating from the tabernacle in the corner, ‘raise your hand if you’re a believer’. It was easy to dismiss. He had heard it many times before. The call buzzer startled him although he had been listening for it. Rocky’s ascent up the stone steps flashed before his eyes as he mouthed an exaggerated ‘Gonna Fly Now’. He was pumped. He took a deep breath, smeared his fingertips with his pasty white tongue and smoothed the bristles on top of his head. Crossing himself absent-mindedly, Ephraim stepped out into the limelight to deliver his sermon with shameless confidence. Show time! Writing Prompt - 10 minutes free write: queue, key, smirk, and fumble
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
No part of these stories / blog may be reproduced in any written, electronic, recorded, or photocopied form without written permission of the author, Karen Schauber
Contact Karen Schauber for written permission Archives
April 2024
Visit: http://GroupofSevenFlashFiction.weebly.comCategories |