Terribleminds Flash Fiction Challenge: Choose You’re Opening Line


Yes, it’s that time again. Terribleminds weekly flash fiction challenge.

This time, we had to choose from a selection of opening lines; which was last weeks challenge.

I went with this imagination inducing line by C J Eggett:

“The ghost of a sparrow flitted through one wall and out the other”

And this was the outcome.




The ghost of a sparrow flitted through one wall and out the other. “They know we’re here” “so cops usually congregate outside abandoned tower blocks then?” He turned to her; if looks could kill, he’d have contradicted his purpose. “The police are the least of our concerns” he said. She joined him at the window; red and blue lights sparkled below. “You’ve gotten me out of worse than this Jack.” He turned to look at her; the deep ridges of his forehead drank in the flashing lights from below. The ghost of a sparrow flitted back through the room and out of the wall where they stood. Rosalee noticed it for the first time
“What was that?”
“A whole heap of trouble” he replied.

In the middle of the red and blue light display below, stands a man in a trench coat holding a megaphone, he is gesticulating with rage at a man whose white hair shimmers; he is standing beside another whose features are hidden beneath a hood.
“That man has killed fourteen of my men!” he spat “I don’t know who you think you are buddy but – ”
“Sergeant, if you continue to harass me I cannot promise you will live to see my rage” the man’s eyes seem to shimmer as he speaks. The Sergeant, uncharacteristically bows his head, he feels like an accosted child. Of the two men, one is silent and still, his head bowled slightly, a hood concealing his eyes. He shudders, his whole body seeming to spasm as he inhales deeply; looking up at the night sky. He looks to the man with the white hair “seventh floor, just him and the girl.”
The white haired man nods and then turns toward the trench coat wearing; megaphone wielding man who has been watching him the whole time. “Thank you Sergeant” he smiles, though there is nothing pleasant about it “we’ll take it from here.”
The Sergeant watches them walk toward the building; squeezing his eyes shut; he’s tired, overworked, he just saw a white sparrow fly into the hooded man.

Jack watched them part the crowd like a hedge trimmer does a thicket. He withdrew a Magnum from inside his long coat. Rosalee approaches him, watching the spinning barrel, he flicks his wrist and the barrel returns to its origin, ready to impart pain and death at its wielders behest.
“Jack” she said “I don’t want you dying for me.”
“I’m dead regardless” he said studying her, noticing her vulnerability for the first time. He thought of her as a package, nothing but a delivery to be made; fragile and handled with care. Just a walking, talking, proficiently sarcastic, package. She touched his hand, gazed deep into his eyes; he could see his own weathered reflection in the two perfect pools of azure.
“You have a good heart Jack, don’t succumb to darkness”
He felt the hair rise on the back of his neck; be it the breeze or the feel of her silky soft skin, he could not have said, but the door swung open and with it, came his attention. Jack rounded Rosalee, she settled behind him, peering at the doorway from over his shoulder. Jack waited. Fixated on the doorway; trying to decipher the darkness, from the Demons. His pupils dilated, but not nearly quick enough; he raised his Magnum, but the hooded figure from below was on him, its face three inches from his own. Jack squeezed the trigger. The noise of the shot exploded into the room. But the hooded man side-stepped before the hammer hit. He moved as though time did not constrain him. Jack heard the flutter of his sleeve; felt the cold touch of a blunt object colliding with the side of his head, and then the impact of brick as he hit the wall some twenty feet from where he stood. “Jack!” he heard Rosalee’s voice. His vision was impaired; blurred by blood, head blow and brick dust. He could feel the wood bowing beneath his head at the approach of someone. He fathomed a pair of black boots, and then was lifted; limp and yielding, he rose off the floor. “Thank you so much, for taking good care of her” the voice was gruff and came from behind a set of sharp teeth, his white hair shimmering in the dark of the room. Jack could see Rosalee; limp and draped over the shoulder of the hooded accomplice, as they left the room. The white haired man came back into focus “Farewell Jack” his shark like grin turned to a snarl, and he tosses Jack through the window. The glass shatters at his back, feeling as though he’s been pushed through tissue paper. The cold night air screams in his ears; his stomach squirms in panic, like a rat in a box, viciously searching for escape. He feels the tarmac hurtling towards him; the further the window gets, the closer he is to death. Jack closes his eyes; and with it comes the soft embrace of…something. Jack opens his eyes, the bright white light; sharp, yet soothing, eases his heart to a reasonable rate. Jack sits up, feeling the soft goose down of the duvet rustle under his weight. “I can’t keep saving your life like this” Jack looks to the foot of the bed; the voice belongs to a man dressed head to toe in white. “Thanks Gabriel” said Jack. Gabriel raised an eye-brow in amusement “You lost her Jack” he said shaking his head. “I know” he replied averting his gaze from the Angels. Jack began to get off the bed, wincing a little at the pain in his shoulder.
“Where are you going Jack?” Gabriel asked
“To get her back”

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