Dark Fiction - The Price of Fame
Written by Casey Douglass
Arnold walked down the
shopping aisle, the distant screams merging with the approaching
wu-wahs of the police. He reflected that it was a shame that shopping
couldn’t be this enjoyable every time: less people, plenty of
space, it was heaven.
Something crashed to
the ground on the other side of the store. It sounded like glass but
whether it was SWAT breaching or some clumsy soul knocking over a
display, he couldn’t tell.
He rested a hand on the
edge of a freezer cabinet, enjoying the frosty tingle in his fingers.
Blood smeared the glass as he rubbed some of the frost away. The
idiots had it turned up way too high.
Booted feet ran
somewhere off to the left, sounded like three rows away. Another
flurry of footfalls clattered on metal grates somewhere back in the
stock area.
He smiled. Soon it
would all be over.
He gripped the flesh
around him and tugged it closer. She had been a beautiful blonde, six
feet tall, with legs up to the sky. He’d never appreciated being
small for his age, but when you’re pushing fifty and only five foot tall, you can squeeze into all kinds of places. Images of the others
flickered through his mind, so many people, so many new suits.
He was tired, that was
why it had to end. The thought scared him at first but he'd soon come
around to the idea of giving himself up. It was the only way people
would ever find out the scale of what he’d done. The police had
only found two so far. Pathetic! Now he had it made, celebrity
status, maybe a book...
‘Put your hands up
and turn around slowly!’ a voice barked behind him.
He raised his hands,
the innards of the human-suit slipping against the backs of his arms.
‘Turn!’
He rotated on the spot,
careful not to let the amateurish stitches down the front split open.
He smiled, the images of camera flashes and kinky fan letters juiced
across his mind. He looked at the row of heavily armed police, their
guns all pointing at his chest. One on the end removed his helmet,
his face ashen, his gun quivering. ‘Caitlyn!’ he shrieked.
‘Shit,’ Arnold
mumbled.
The gun went off. The
future exploded.
THE END
