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In The Heat of The Night by Manatita, to my Friend, Frank Atanacio

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Manatita is an esteemed author living in London, UK. He writes spiritual books, flash fiction and esoteric poetry, his favourite genre.


Ramona quickened her footsteps. The sound behind her was alarmingly close and she was afraid, very afraid. Her mind drifted to the many times she had told herself not to use this dark alleyway, but alas, it was too late now. Or was it?

Funny how our thoughts run wild when we are in danger. Ramona remembered her letter to the City Council … about the lights … about how dangerous this place felt when unlit … of how slim and petite she was and didn’t think she stood a chance with the sound of this heavyset footsteps now following her. She hurried even more!

Why was he following her, she enquired? Was it her vulnerability on this harsh cold winter’s night? Could he see through the dark that she was small, fragile, frightened, yet well-dressed and conservative? Was it the money he was after, or the thrills? By God, how she hoped it was not the latter.

She still wanted to hug and be hugged by her daughter – that sweet, charming, nine-month old child. She longed to shower her with kisses, until their souls met and blended as one. Such joy! Such innocence and soulful love she’d felt from her baby!

Now all this was threatened as the pounding footsteps got closer, heavier … she heard his cold and callous voice, as bitter as the fierceness of the night. She smelt his stench, as an eerie chill ran up and down her spine. She imagined his sinister grin ... his ugly, horrid face. Her heart was pulsing, body pouring with sweat and shaking with anxiety.

She felt numb and brain-dead, but instinct told her that she had to survive … to move… and fast! Clutching at her shawl on this chilliest of nights, she dropped her bag in the path of the would-be-attacker, and made a run for it … a race for her life!


********************************************************************************************** The noise of Ramona’s ‘Nooh!!’ was more than enough to awaken the surrounding neighbourhood and to startle her child. She awoke to the sound of crying; to the feel of a soft warm body close to her. It was her child and Ramona was glad to be alive. Heart still pounding, chest heaving and with buckets of sweat pouring down her face, she began to ease into the comfort of her own bedroom. At least she was alive.

Ramona would pick up the phone that morning and give the City Hall Secretary, a piece of her mind. She would call the Newspaper Editors and complain about how dangerous this alleyway was to women and hoped they would be of assistance, in getting the City Hall Counselor to do something about it.

For now she embraced her daughter closely; gave thanks that they were both still alive. She had never felt more vulnerable and insecure, as she slowly drifted into the twilight hours of the morn.

Manatita, 4th June 2018


Flash Fiction

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