Mid-Weak Writing Special: “Don’t do The Mime if you can’t do the Time” – Part Four

"Keyboard and Cress", by wetwebwork on Flickr (CC BY-SA 2.0)Every Wednesday from now until the end of the world, or the blog, I’m going to post a random bit of writing: a rhyme, something from an old folder or a work in progress, or if all else fails whatever random thing I scribbled down during the free-write warm up of my Tuesday Night Writers Club."Keyboard and Cress", by wetwebwork on Flickr (CC BY-SA 2.0)

‘Tis the season of either dewy-eyed generosity or blind, filthy greed, depending on your level of cynicism (and, if you’re mired in the past, maybe there’s a minor religious aspect to it too). 

My ongoing gift to you: fourth in a series of five drabbles – 100 word “stories” – which in this case will add up to so much more…


My lungs are burning, fists bruised and bleeding, thighs quivering, but I can’t slow now.

There are goons piled up from his hideout to here, none of them could stop me – but The Mime is still out there.

I burst onto the gallery floor, sprint past dead bodyguards. Just as I turn the corner, The Mime pulls no rope tight.

I sprawl forward—onto the Mayor’s corpse.

A door bursts open, a scream. All eyes turn my way. I hold my empty hands up—

“He’s got no knife!” shouts… Felix Jones. “It’s him, The Mime!”

Damn him.

I run.

…tune in tomorrow for the final chapter!


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