A Necessary Evil

Written for #ThursThreads

 

A Necessary Evil

By Lisa McCourt Hollar

“Joshua, what are you doing?”

“You know what I’m doing dear, I’m culling the herd.”

“The herd? Joshua, they’re humans, not cattle.”

“They might as well be cattle, Elizabeth, for all the good they do. Pollution, global warming, wars… they even kill their own children.”

“We were sent here to watch, not interfere.”

“We’ve been watching for millennia. Free will… bah. He gives them free will and they throw it away. Blind and dumb, they’re sheep being led to slaughter. If they are so willing to walk blindly off the cliff, then I’m only too willing to help.”

“With that?” Elizabeth nodded at the pouch Joshua held in his hand. “I know where that came from. Lucifer has never had their best interest at heart. He set himself up as a god… and you see where that got him. Are you so willing to follow in his footsteps?”

Joshua looked at the pouch, opening it and sticking a finger inside. Pulling it out he sniffed at the powder. Black, it smelled of death. “As far as I’m concerned, we are God.” Opening the window, the angel emptied the contents into the wind. “It is done.”

The powder swirled in the air, carried by the currents to the four corners of the earth. Children breathed it in on the playgrounds, the elderly began to cough, feeling a strange tickle in their throats. That night, humanity slept, a sense of dread hanging in the air. The next morning the dead awoke.

 

Word Count: 249

 

Alien Convention

Written for #ThursThreads

Alien Convention

By Lisa McCourt Hollar

“You’ve got to be kidding me?” Thinking he had stepped into some weird version of The Twilight Zone Johnny Walker surveyed the room. Red, the color of crimson was splattered across the walls, mixed with a rainbow of green, blue and orange.

“I told you, they take this seriously.” Sean Franco shook his head, trying not to chuckle at his partners dazed look. It was his first year in town.

Before him, an alien with a large lobed head and sharp teeth sputtered indignantly.

“I want them arrested! This is NEVER going to come clean.” He gestured to his suit, an already gaudy color that even the most hardened pimp wouldn’t be caught dead in. A large collar rose up in the back, covering the back of his bald head. Johnny assumed he was referring to the red paintball splotches that  were soaking into the fabric. Behind him a bevy of women, dressed in costumes befitting Star Trek characters, giggled.

“You should thank me, Ferengi. I improved the look.” The woman leering down at the offended ‘Ferengi’, pointed a paint ball gun at him, shoving it into his chest.

“Did you see that officers, she threatened me.”

“Threatened you?” The woman laughed. “Ferengi, wait until tonight. You’ll see what threatened is.”

“Let’s go,” Sean said, turning towards the brothel door.

“Aren’t we going to arrest her? She did threaten him…I think.”

“Foreplay,” Sean said. “Get used to it. You should see Vegas when the Beany Baby convention comes to town.”

Word Count: 250

@jezri1

A Fair Trade

I originally wrote this for a weekly competition. 

A Fair Trade

By Lisa McCourt Hollar

“That didn’t take long…” George’s voice trailed off as I slipped off my coat.

Blood soaked my white blouse, the crimson spreading like a flower in violent bloom. I let the coat fall. My knees gave way. He caught me before I hit the floor.

“My God,” he whispered, easing me onto the couch. “What happened?”

“I killed her.”

“Killed who?” His hands hovered over me, searching for a wound. “Were you in a car accident?”

“No.”

“Then what happened? You said you were going to the store.”

“I lied. I went to see Sheila.”

“Tom’s wife? Why?”

“She called. She told me about the two of you.”

His face changed, just slightly. Enough.

“Linda, I would never.”

“She was pregnant.”

The color drained from him.

“Oh,” I said softly. “You didn’t know? She was going to leave Tom. She said you would leave me too.”

“That’s insane.”

“I told her you wouldn’t. I told her about the pre-nup you signed.” I held his gaze. “And then I realized something. The brakes. The gas leak. The broken basement step.”

I leaned forward. “They were not accidents.”

“You’ve lost your mind.”

“Maybe.”

I picked up my coat and reached into the pocket. The knife slid free, still wet and dark.

“But I think it’s a fair trade,” I said, lunging toward him, “for your life.”