Sunburnt Stories

It was a Thursday morning when it happened…
Forgetting how hot the sun is in the mornings I got up really early (9 o’clock and hey, that’s pretty good considering I didn’t have to) and decided to sit by my pool and read. Given that uni is breaking my balls at the moment I haven’t really had time to sit down and read something I want. So I said damn to the man and I sat outside until 12 o’clock reading my favourite author Scott Westerfeld. His new release Leviathan was so bubbly that I completely forgot the blissful white sunscreen or even my awesome bright purple hat. So it seems the man got back at me by giving me ouchy sunburn as I was too engrossed in my story to even realise my skin yelling for help. What makes this situation worse is that I have very, very, very sensitive skin. I’m talking:
RED
BLISTER
White…thanks, skin!

From now on it’s sun-smart stuff, because apparently it’s going to be a hotter summer than last year. Urgh, I miss open fires and my Dr. Seuss bed socks already!

In other news, it is one more week to go before I am free from uni and assignments. But for now here is one of my pieces due for my last Fiction class assignment. Constructive criticism would be much appreciated, please!

This is a flash fiction piece, and titled The Beginning of an Ending

I stand at the edge of the platform. Grey faces walk past me in a blur as I concentrate on the yellow digits above me. I enter the train as it pulls to a stop and push myself through the doors as they slide open. The lights are bright. They flicker like the strobe lights in a disco. The floor under my polished black shoes is sticky from old vomit and bird shit. Even as I step further inside the train spilt alcohol along with other dark patches cover the floor. The grey faces become still, as if no disturbance was made. I walk forward. And walk. And again, I walk until I reach the front cabin. I pause outside the door. My hands are shaking as one clutches the door handle, the other holding a gun. I try to pull myself together. I try to justify my actions. I try to open the cabin door and do what I was told must be done. But instead I stand. I wait. And wait. And again, I wait until my breathing has steadied. My mind has justified itself. And my hands have stopped shaking.
There is movement inside the cabin. A whisper. A suitcase clipped open. He knows I am here. He can hear my breathing. He can feel the presence of my gun. He can taste my panic. But now, I can hear his breath. I can feel the presence of his gun. I can taste his panic. I steady myself once more and stand at the ready.
The train chugs on as I breathe. I listen. I swing the door open.
There is a gunshot…

A scream.
A silence.
An ending

Ambiguously yours,

Jinx xx