Flash Fiction, The adventures of Max

Grey Sky, Grey Smoke

colourcigaretteI walk out the convenience store holding the carton of milk and pack of cigarettes my Mum had screamed at me to buy first thing this morning. It’s Sunday, the sky is a pleasant grey which makes the dull buildings look more dull. It creates this sinister and noir atmosphere that I love. This is my favourite weather. There’s quite an icy breeze which crawls up my sleeves flirtatiously. I feel its chill and pull my collar higher up and my gloves tighter.

Just as I turn in the direction of home I see a bunch of kids loitering outside the store, I know them, they’re locals and some of them go to my sixth-form. I wonder whether I should say hello but I’m too lazy to start a conversation so I’m about to walk past them when one grabs me.

They grab my shoulders and turn me around to face them, “If it ain’t Max.” she says.

“Oooh is that Max.” they all start coming closer to me and I know there’s no escape. I just sigh.

“I heard you ditched Mr. Richards class on Friday, you are so bad ass.” says a girl, her name is Shelly. She’s wearing a real short skirt and crop top and I can’t help but wonder if she’s cold.

“There is no reason staying in a class when I don’t want to learn.” I reply.

There are looks of praise from the others.

“You must think your pretty hot stuff, always ditching, being late and not hanging out with no one. Why don’t you join our group?” says one guy, his name is Aaron, he’s putting on a friendly smile.

Join his group, he must be ridiculous. They were just a bunch of kids loitering around, trying to act cool, and getting into trouble. Hanging out with them sounded stupid.

“I’ve got better things to do.”

“Well then go screw yourself, you ain’t wanted.” he yells at me, I’ve probably offended him, his friends back him up and start glaring at me. All I can do is sigh. It’s not like I wanted to talk.

I ignore them and turn around, take a cigarette from my pocket, light it and watch as the smoke rises. Every time I light a cig I feel the wind pick up around me, it’s as if my soul will be stolen away. It feels kind off thrilling, having one in my hand. I wonder why my Mother smokes tons of these everyday, I don’t get it. I walk and watch as it burns and then I throw it to the ground. I smash it under my foot.

 

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Flash Fiction, The adventures of Max

Another day in Class.

Mr. Richards is grumbling about Politics. He’s talking about the judiciary and making the class take the same notes over and over again. It’s times like this that Max really wonders why he chose this subject. He thought it would be more exciting, like learning about Terrorism and Human rights or Regionalism, but apparently that is for the next year. This year they are learning about UK politics, which is enjoyable in its own way, but Max feels disengaged. It is so difficult, he just can’t wrap his mind around the subject whatsoever. It is nearly exam time and he still can’t remember how legislature went through parliament and still hasn’t done any of his notes or mind-maps.

‘Perhaps I should be listening in this lesson’, Max thought, but the moment he thought it the idea ran out his ear. There is no point, it is a lost cause, he’d just drop it or worse come to worse he’d drop school altogether and take an apprenticeship. Max is the type of person that doesn’t stress about education or the future. As far as he is concerned, grades, or the type of job he got didn’t dictate the quality of life he would have in the future.

Max looks out the window, watching the clouds pass, then Mr. Richards, noticing his lack of attention, says, “Mr. Malis can you tell me how a judge can retain their neutrality?”

Max can only stare at him blankly. “I don’t know sir, but I do know I need to go to the toilet, so I’ll be back in a bit.” Although Max says this he is really just planning on ditching the class. So he picks up his bag and stands up.

At his words other students begin laughing, chatting, saying “typical Max”, “always dozing off”, “lol”, “exams are soon he should get his act together” and “is he actually leaving?” At their words and Max’s actions Mr. Richards’ face goes redder and redder with anger, but before he can scream Max is already skipping out the classroom.

Max goes into the quiet corridors and begins walking down the stairs. He stretches, yawns, and starts his journey home.

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