The Autumn of My Discontent

After reading Molly’s latest post on her blog Shallow Reflections, (check it out – it never fails to entertain,) I realized it’s time to re-post this little bit of fiction. The time comes around earlier every year. Enjoy!


interrogation

The interrogation room is cold. I’m pretty sure I read somewhere that they do that on purpose – anything to make you feel uncomfortable. The temperature, the buzzing florescent lights, and the hard metal chair are all doing their jobs and filling me with unease and a sense of impending doom.

I’ve been sitting here for what seems like hours (another time-honored technique, I’m sure) and have had time to reflect about the last 48 hours. Jeff told me I had to be careful. He had tried to talk me out of it. “Can’t you just go along to get along?” he asked.

“I’ve had it!” I had answered. “I can’t just sit back and watch while the powers-that-be do this to innocent people. Continue reading

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The Autumn of My Discontent

For your reading pleasure, I am re-posting my one and only attempt at fiction on this blog (so far.)

Once again, fall is upon us and no one is safe!

Maid's Day Off

interrogation

The interrogation room is cold. I’m pretty sure I read somewhere that they do that on purpose – anything to make you feel uncomfortable. The temperature, the buzzing florescent lights, and the hard metal chair are all doing their jobs and filling me with unease and a sense of impending doom.

I’ve been sitting here for what seems like hours (another time-honored technique, I’m sure) and have had time to reflect about the last 48 hours. Jeff told me I had to be careful. He had tried to talk me out of it. “Can’t you just go along to get along?” he asked.

“I’ve had it!” I had answered. “I can’t just sit back and watch while the powers-that-be do this to innocent people.

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The Autumn of My Discontent

interrogation

The interrogation room is cold. I’m pretty sure I read somewhere that they do that on purpose – anything to make you feel uncomfortable. The temperature, the buzzing florescent lights, and the hard metal chair are all doing their jobs and filling me with unease and a sense of impending doom.

I’ve been sitting here for what seems like hours (another time-honored technique, I’m sure) and have had time to reflect about the last 48 hours. Jeff told me I had to be careful. He had tried to talk me out of it. “Can’t you just go along to get along?” he asked.

“I’ve had it!” I had answered. “I can’t just sit back and watch while the powers-that-be do this to innocent people. Continue reading