Today through the 23rd is the Second Flash Fiction Blogfest sponsored by Cherie Reich. You can see all the entries HERE.
Below is my 300-word piece of flash fiction -- a riff on the old Robert Johnson legend, with a minor allusion to Faust. I hope you enjoy it.
A Choice at the Crossroads
Lightning flashed; the jagged bolt behind Vince was reflected in Mel's dark sunglasses.
Perfect, thought Vince as a pulsating rumble of thunder swept over the two men. Almost like the crazy guy had planned it.
“Come on, it's going to rain,” Vince said. “Let's get back into the car. This is asinine. Why the Hell are we way out here on these back roads anyway?”
Mel smiled, a sneer almost as jagged as the lightning. “This is my little salute to tradition. I think a rural setting always works best when it's time to collect on an arrangement like ours.” He snorted. “I do appreciate some old-fashioned ways. It was no coincidence that I first approached you in Indianapolis.” He bobbed his head slightly, as if he were winking. His glasses were so black that Vince couldn't tell. “It is the Crossroads of America, after all.”
“What are you talking about? You're insane. I knew I never should have left the club with you.”
“Oh don't play coy with me, Vince. I kept my part of the deal - Mel Phisto always does. You were nothing when I met you. You could barely play two chords. Now you're Mister Bigshot, the idol of millions of pimply-faced kids struggling to learn the guitar. Who do think made that happen?”
“So what do you want, then? My freaking soul?” Vince laughed.
The sneer returned. “No, Vince. That's too easy. Now days, everyone's so self-centered there's no sport in that deal. Instead, someone close to you will die and I'll take them.”
Another bolt of lightning flashed across the sky. Mel removed his sunglasses. His eyes were as black as the glasses had been. “And you get to decide who.”