Denny woke in the dark, dank basement of a restaurant. He was naked on the floor, his wrists gaffer taped to his ankles. He was tied like a Christmas turkey, his head sore and his nose bleeding.
He had no idea why he was there.
A black figure grunted in the corner.
"Hello?" said Denny. His voice was hoarse, dry and cracking.
The figure moved into the light of the single bulb which hung from the ceiling. It wore a ski mask and held a wooden mallet loosely by its side.
"There's been a mistake. Last thing I remember was leaving a restaurant. I'm not the one you want!"
"Dennis Cleaver? Yeah. It's you I want."
The figure stepped forward and produced a flick knife. It crouched to Denny's level, and only then could he see the red, bloodshot eyes of the madman inside the mask.
"Next time, leave a tip."
* * *
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see your story on our featured ‘Flash Fiction Friday’ post. Stories should
under 300 words, of any genre and not be overly offensive. Include a brief
(under 30 words) biog, and don’t forget to include web and social media
addresses so fans can get in touch. Sorry if we can’t reply to your submission,
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story.
image: Maurizio Carta http://www.freeimages.com/profile/cartam
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