Authonomy – Friday Flash Fiction [FFF]

Post: FFF – March 14, 2014

Theme / Genre: Result!

Include: –

Words: 355

Balls!

‘First out, number fourteen. It’s seventy-third outing and the number of millions raised for good causes, so far this year.’

Malcolm’s ears perked up, fourteen: one of his numbers. He pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose, so he could focus on the screen.

‘Number thirty-four!’

Interesting, Malcolm thought.

Linda paid no attention and continued playing on her ipad.

‘Four!’

Three numbers, that could be at least a tenner, Malcolm’s interest grew as he watched the brightly coloured machine called Guinevere, as it whirled away all the lottery balls.

‘Fourth ball in tonight’s draw is forty.’

‘Blimey!’ Malcolm said under his breath.

‘Huh!’ Linda grunted, eyes firmly fixed on her tablet.

‘Tonight’s fifth number is…twenty-four.’

‘Oh, my giddy—’ Malcolm didn’t know what prize was attached to five numbers, twenty, thirty grand maybe.

‘What’s that love?’ Linda still didn’t look up.

Malcolm sat on the edge of his seat, pulled out his handkerchief from his pocket and patted his perspiring forehead. Linda looked up hearing his long sighing breath.

‘Are you okay, Malcolm, darling?’

‘Shhh!’ he silenced.

‘Tonight’s last number is…’

‘Malcolm you look a bit red, are you okay?’

‘Shhh!’ he silenced, with a little more frustration and anger mixed in.

‘…forty-four!’

‘Oh, that’s one of your numbers isn’t it?’ Linda said, hearing the television at last.

Malcolm stared blankly at the screen, red-faced, dripping with perspiration.

‘Are you sure you’re okay darling?’

He still said nothing add the voice called out tonight’s bonus number; it was irrelevant to him, he had all six numbers.

‘Tonight’s Lottery numbers in ascending order: four, fourteen, twenty-four, thirty-four, forty and forty-four…’

‘Aren’t they your numbers, Malcolm?’

‘Umm!’ Malcolm could barely move.

‘Good Lord, Malcolm, they are your numbers.’

Still no movement, except for a tear that ran down his cheek. Followed by another, it slowly zigzagged down his wrinkled skin.

‘We’ve won the lottery!’ she said.

‘No we haven’t,’ he said finally.

‘But they’re your numbers, the numbers you’ve been doing for the last twenty years, every Saturday since 1994.’

‘I forgot to bloody do them!’