Fast Fiction: Donations
Two men and a woman are taking a short cut through a tunnel. Ah, but a short cut to where? Read Richard Mallinson’s ominous tale.
'Keep going,' said Stringer, behind me, 'it can't be far now.'
'How the hell would you know?' I said.
'Oh, for God's sake,' snapped Donna, behind Stringer.
The three of us were in a tunnel. Donna had said it would be a short cut. 'A short cut to where?' I'd asked.
'Just you wait and see,' she'd replied.
'Just me?'
'Well, both of you.'
Now she said she was cold, so I stopped.
'Here, take my jacket,' I said over my shoulder.
'No,' said Stringer, 'she must have mine.'
'I don't want any jackets,' she said.
'What do you want, then?' I almost asked.
We went forward more slowly than before. The torchlight was failing and I was worried about the mud underfoot.
This is horrible,' said Donna.
'Be quiet, woman,' said Stringer.
'Be quiet yourself, both of you.'
'I didn't - ' I began but gave up.
A minute later we saw light and soon we were at the end. The light came from arc lamps and there were women in white robes.
They gazed at us. They came near.
'In the past,' said one of them to Donna, 'new members have donated either a husband or a lover but you are the first to have brought along both.'
They crowded round us.
'Hey, what's all this about?' yelled Stringer, going purple.
There were shouts of ‘Well done, Donna’ and much applause.
'You're welcome,' she said, bowing.
