flash fiction

Flash Fiction – Clowns

flash fiction clowns


He sat down at the table, head in his hands. Jake wanted to quit yesterday, but if he did he’d have no job, then he’d lose his home. He knew no other job role. He’d done this line of work for so long, he now felt stuck. He couldn’t re-train, not now.

Jake used to work the party shift, but with new laws surrounding hours, he had to do nights occasionally so that the others could take the right amount of break in between night shifts. This was his seventh night shift; he already hated it. Jake hoped this shift change would only be temporary, he knew the others weren’t fans of the party shifts; it just didn’t make any sense making each worker do the shift they hated the most.

It wasn’t as if he slept or rested well in between the shifts, fear and dread overwhelmed him in the hours where he waited to return to work. He was tired, too tired to fight his own corner.

He sat at his work desk, looked at all his tools which lay in front of him. Pills which always sat to the side, he picked them up, shook them. He’d never contemplated taking them so much as he did recently. Ending his pain; not yet – but he knew there was more to life than what lay ahead of him.

Putting the pills back onto the desk, he moved his head to face the mirror in front of him, hating what he’d become.

“I have to do this.” He said to his reflection.

He picked up his make-up brushes and began to paint his face. No tears could fall now he was almost ready.

Sliding his feet into his big black boots; fastening the final few buttons on his jacket. Jake collects his keys and heads to his shift.

Clocking in via his GPS watch he took his place.


In his unusual grainy voice, he begins.

“I’m watching you…”


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