Flash Fiction Fridays: Diabolos Ex Machina
Posted: 2007/09/21 15:24
DIABOLOS EX MACHINA
The alley was bitterly cold, but Simon didn’t notice. The fight had heated his blood and he felt overly warm inside his thick coat. He was kneeling on a man whose face felt like oatmeal every time he hit it. Even the jaw and cheekbones no longer offered any resistance, and the man had stopped moving long ago.
Still, Simon battered the man several more times before his rage abated to human levels and he became aware of how tired his arm was. He got to his feet and kicked the man over so he wouldn’t have to look at him. Of the man’s two friends, one was unconscious or dead, and the other had stopped whimpering a while ago. But there was still a faint cloud of breath near his head. Simon knew he was playing possum, desperately hoping the terrible injuries he’d already sustained were all there would be. They had all been so tough when the altercation began.
Forum 
