Longlisted by Furious Fiction

​On the first weekend of each month, the Australian Writer's Centre puts out a Furious Fiction contest. Writers take the prompts given and write a flash fiction piece of no more than 500 words during the 55-hour contest. 

In June 2024, writers had to include:
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• A relationship between two characters
• The words uniform, jar, and syringe

The piece I created, Versatility, was longlisted.
Enjoy!

Versatility
Merv sat on the edge of the bed holding a jar in one hand and a needle in the other. He nudged June with his elbow.

“Wake up, baby,” he pleaded in an urgent whisper.

Merv squirmed in the ill-fitting uniform. The legs were a bit too short, as were the arms. However, it was the best he could do on short notice. He nudged her again.

“June. Wake up. We don’t have much time.”

June’s eyes fluttered open. “Merv? Is that you?”

“Yeah, baby. It’s me.”

“Why are you wearing a mask?”

“It’s part of the uniform, baby.” He pulled down the mask, letting it rest under his chin. “See? It’s me. I did what you asked. I got everything.”

“Everything? Are you sure?”

Merv’s hands began to shake. “I’m not a dimwit. I only needed two items and a way to camouflage my actions. Even I can’t muck that up.”

She raised her eyebrows. Merv always managed to muck things up.

As if to prove her wrong, he held up his right hand. “Phenobarbital.” Then he held up his left hand. “Syringe.” Finally, he looked down at his attire. “Standard hospital garb.” With a satisfied nod, he said, “Are you sure?”

“Yes. It’s time. It’s way past time.” June emphatically nodded her approval.

Merv removed the cap and plunged the needle into the clear liquid, tears leaking from his eyes. She told him she was tired of living this way. How could he deny her an easy escape?

Suddenly, the room filled with shouting people. Aides. Nurses. Doctors. Above the commotion, he heard her say, “I woke up to find him sitting on my bed, filling that syringe. I think he was planning to kill me!”

Merv stammered. “But…June…”

Before he could say another word, security pushed him to the floor. Someone wrapped duct tape around his wrists and pulled him by his legs into the hall. Before he left in the squad car, he’d been labeled a murderer.

As for June, once alone, she smiled. For the first time in their entire thirty-year marriage, Merv had done exactly what she needed him to do. No handholding. No procrastinating. No errors. And because of his spectacular success, she’d finally be free to live the life she’d always wanted - right after she healed from her plastic surgery.
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Who knew euthanasia could be so versatile?