March 14, 2014 by Sez
This is the first installment of this year’s 100 Days writing project. This year I hope to write 100 word flashfictions. 100 100 word fictions. Which looks odd written down.
Today’s offering is a fictionalised memorial to Tony Benn.
He was born with it: the smooth bowl gagging against the back of his throat and soon, the filigree vines of the handle clashed against his teeth.
The taste of cold, sharp metal, bitter on his tongue.
He retched on it, cursed it gnawed at it, tried to speak as if the damn thing had never been put there.
At last, he felt the weakened metal give, bend and break. He worked his powerful jaws on the fragments, tempered them with tobacco smoke and white hot rage, smoothed them with a sandpaper tongue.
Then, until his death, he spat bullets.