Monthly Archives: April 2015


“This is not good. For heaven’s sake you used to be a good journalist! The sales are going down and people up there are not happy!”
It was the second editorial meeting Petro was having with the media owner, and he was feeling defeated. For the first time in his career, he was speechless. He wanted to say just how much he wished things were different.
“I am trying all I can…” he said in a tone that wasn’t convincing even to himself.
“We are not seeing results. Do more…”
Those were the last words they said before they tucked their papers into their sophisticated files and left.
Petro knew that he had to do something. Even though the bashing by his seniors had been harsh, he knew that in the depths of those screams and admonition was a truth he was not ready to confront.
He was losing it as a journalist.

He wanted so bad for his stories to make the headline headline. He wanted to have a story that would get the whole nation talking. He wanted the scoop, and he wanted his name to be stuck upon the tongues of people who matter…long after the event had happened. And even more importantly, he wanted to convince himself that he still had ‘it’.
He wanted his old self back.
“By all means necessary….”He whispered to himself as he hanged his coat on his shoulder and left the newsroom.
The events that happened later that night created the shift he needed in his journalism career. A prominent woman died under mysterious circumstances.
He was the first one at the scene of the crime. He had all the details….the exclusive story. He became a hashtag; trending on twitter within the first hour that the story broke.
Later that night as he watched news analysis while sipping his vodka from a plastic cup, his senior editor called him.
“That was good. The sales have gone up. The advertisers are streaming back for space.”
He took one final swig and said:
“I did what I had to do Sir…”


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In the darkness of the night, blasts from the high powered guns tore through the silence. It was followed by a stampede, a low groan and sounds of soldiers stepping onto the foggy ground. There was something different about this night – the soldiers had left thinking that their enemies were far beyond…..only to be met by a series of gun shots.

They panicked as the barrage of bullets tore through six of their own; including their commander. They were facing death, and no matter how much they tried to hide and fire back; it was obvious that they were getting overwhelmed by each second.

Isaiah, who had worked in the army for 9 years, heard his best friend whisper his name. It wasn’t so much of a whisper, but a deep cry from within. He looked back, and saw him clutching on his stomach….with blood oozing from it.

“James, hang in there, I will get some help. Don’t move.” He whispered.

He was trying to hide the fear in his voice.

“Shoot me Isaiah….I know I won’t live. So end this pain…..don’t leave me here!” He struggled to say.


(Image courtesy: wikipics)

From a distance, he could hear his colleagues running and firing aimlessly in an effort to ward off their attackers and prevent their own impending death.

Isaiah held onto his rifle. The enemies were getting closer….and he had to think fast.

He looked at his best friend and saw desperation

Again… the darkness of the night, , blasts from the high powered guns tore through the silence.

Twaff! Twaff! Twaff!
Three bullets.

Then silence!

Categories: FLASH STORIES | Leave a comment

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