A Cock About to Cro-
(15th January, Story #15/366.)
Yes, Mike-in-Accounts, I'm fat. Well done you for noticing.
I heard him talking about me. He was in the middle of saying something crude and cruel, and didn't realise I'd descended from Logistics to ask a question. I was right behind him.
The gaggle of women hanging on his every word looked comical, their amused smirks freezing, eyes widening, expressions turning to horror. I could feel the beet-heat in my face, and my hands squish into fists.
Mike, in full swing and in love with sound of his own voice, kept going for several seconds, oblivious. He stopped, mid-sentence. Mid-word actually. He choked on it. Ha.
I asked my question, enjoying the seething crackle of discomfort all around me, then went back up to my desk.
He's right. I'm fat. Not like average-sized girls say it because they aren't built like an ironing board with two peas. Not curvy. Actually, really quite fat. I eat bigger portions than most people, and I eat more often, as well. You could say I am filling a gap in myself with food.
At 5pm sharp, my computer was off, desk neatened, in-tray empty. I wrestled into my coat (I'd need to go up another size), picked up my frumpy brown handbag, took the lift to save my thighs rubbing together and hurried out to catch Mike in the car park.
He had the grace to look embarrassed.
"We can sort this out now, a friendly chat, or I can go to HR and get you suspended."
He puffed up like a cock about to crow, ready to brazen and bluster his way out of it, but I cut him off.
"We both know you've done worse than bully the... what was it? Lardy Lady in Logistics?"
Anger flushed his face and flashed in his eyes, but he jerked his chin. "Alright."
Idiot. He should've made me go to HR.
"There's a diner I know. It's only a few minutes' walk."
He sneered. I saw the thought stamped around his mouth: of course you know a diner.
He never made it there.
+ + + + + + + + + + + +
CONTINUES... (link below)
Word count: 365
Submitted on 15th January at 00:10 AM
*Quick Author's Note*
Thank you for reading! Please leave a comment so I can reciprocate. If you enjoyed it, please share it or read another!
The story behind the story: I'm writing a story every day this year. This one makes a 15 day streak.
I'm not linking to the others below - Finally got bored of laboriously copying over and hyperlinking the list every time! They're all in the Index, pinned to the top of my profile. I'll link to that instead.
The Prompt/Inspiration: This character popped into my head complete two nights ago, right as I was about to drop off to sleep. (This was very inconvenient, because the idea boiled and roiled around my brain and I stayed awake for hours.) This won't be the last you hear from this one. Please stick with her, because she is not at all what she seems.
If you're joining me on this "story every day" adventure, please leave a link in the comments. I'd love to see what you come up with for today. I'll try to come back and edit this to link to your piece at the bottom.
Edited to add links 👇
Her story continues here:
Please consider reading Rachel's micro for today:
And here's that Index, as promised:
About the Creator
Reader insights
Outstanding
Excellent work. Looking forward to reading more!
Top insights
Eye opening
Niche topic & fresh perspectives
Heartfelt and relatable
The story invoked strong personal emotions
Keep reading
More stories from L.C. Schäfer and writers in Fiction and other communities.
Peanuts and Crackerjack
Bottom of the ninth inning. The game is tied with two outs, two strikes and a man on second. I tap the bat on home plate. The rigid vibrations it creates reminds my aching digits that this isn't over. The practice swing only adds to the heft of mental burnout... Man on second, willing to chance it. Pitcher eyes him but doesn't give in to the dangerous bluff. I kick up dust, readying the peculiar stance I've had since the days of little league. The bat lays stiff upon my cramping shoulder. Pain has no reason to be acknowledged; it's a fleeting afterthought. The sun sits passed high noon, but the stadium lights are on anyway. They trick my brain into believing they are the cause of this sweltering heat. Sporadic clouds are motionless, they too, don't want to miss this exhilarating predicament. Anticipating the next pitch, intensifying roars from the crowd rumble the stadium... Behind me, the crafty catcher adjusts his stance and spits to the dry dirt. Behind him, the staunch umpire doesn't flinch or even blink; he knows how important his call will be. The pitcher winds up, his grip tells me its gonna curve. The release is fierce! Beads of sweat from his hair and face disperse in every direction as the force of his might is unfailing. My left leg lifts—an instinctual move that will increase the power of my swing. It's all down to my two, bloodshot eyes. They lock onto the speeding, white dot as it instantly becomes the target I intend to destroy. The swing is late, but I manage a solid tip. The ball is taking a fast bounce toward the pitcher who is recovering from the almighty throw! Man on second leaves in a desperate rush! I fling the bat to the side with a sense of urgency and make a mad sprint to the only destination I have—first base. Three defenders race inward to be the first to retrieve the skidding ball. Man is almost on third! I watch the open glove of my adversary, wondering if I’ve done enough to win this race. I switch my attention to his eyes, looking for a clue, some kind of reaction that tells me the ball is in the air and heading his way. All I see is frustration. The deafening roar of the crowd spikes! Something happens that I can’t see! My opponent abandons his post right as my left stride touches the bag. I waste no time turning my head to see the pitcher laying on his stomach, pounding the mound with an open glove. He misses the opportunity to out me and the ball has quickly bounced past him. Excitement grows! This isn’t over yet... It's become an imperative fight to tag out the runner heading homeward. The catcher falls to his knees in obvious despair as he watches my teammate make the run of his life. He knows it’s going to be close when he sees the shortstop fumble the ball a second too long. I jump up and down with no plans on leaving first base. All my chips are on the speed and agility of the active runner. His cleats dig into the dirt, trailing a dust-filled cyclone from the rapid and strenuous strides. With a thrusting dive and an outstretched arm, he lands on his chest to begin the crucial slide to home plate. The shortstop fires the ball to the catcher! It immediately begins closing the gap! Nail-biting doesn't begin to describe the anxious vibe permeating the stadium. The bench begins to celebrate even before he reaches the plate. Forty thousand cheering fans reach maximum crescendo, filling the air with a glorious sound. Everyone knows how this story will end… My teammate is met by the entire bench as his fingers inch across home plate, instantly followed by the unmistakable motion of the catcher's glove attempting to tag him out—its milliseconds too late. The ump swings his arms outward, officially calling him safe.
By Lamar Wiggins6 days ago in Fiction
Gearhaven Chronicles
In the heart of Gearhaven, a sprawling metropolis where the clanking of gears harmonized with the hiss of steam, lived Alistair Flint. He was not merely an inventor but a dreamer, whose nimble fingers danced across intricate gears and whose mind teemed with unquenchable curiosity. His workshop, cluttered with remnants of past creations, was a sanctuary where his imagination took flight.
By Muhammad Sarmad Razzaqabout 22 hours ago in Fiction
Comments (19)
Ooh, I like the sound of her 😂
I do believe I started reading this one and got interrupted. Glad I came back to it.
One in every office. We all should have vampire qualities, what a treat he would be. Moira seethes with revenge i see.
Good for her
Oooh, I see it now. Should have read it in order
Being overweight myself (although not quite what as much as I think this character is supposed to be), I hate when a character gets fat-shamed, but I do love when a fat-shaming character gets their comeuppance. I can’t wait to see what happens to him!
Oh damn! Now I'm even happier that I never make comments about people Did she... did she eat him? Good way to dispose of the evidence I suppose... This was a fun story and then it turned into a great one! We've - as Randy said - either all known or been people like Mike before but that twist at the end? Oh goodness... gave me chills
We've all known them. We've sometimes even been them. And those of us who realize how our careless words have hurt others truly believe he received his just desserts. The only question that remains is, did you enjoy his dessert or yours more?
There's some slick ol' prose in this. Like it!
Another punch at the end! You have a fantastic knack for hitting at tones that completely change the feeling of the story!
Well, immediately I think she's offed him, but what if it's something even more intriguing...
Here's mine for today: https://vocal.media/fiction/the-strange-wistfulness-of-used-bookstores
Haha! Bad luck Mike. Karma was swift here! Great story. Love the lardy lady from logistics too!
Your character handled herself so well. Mike is an ass. Some people just are. For no other reason than they feel the need to be. This was good. Sorry I haven't followed along until now. I've been... overwhelmed. Excited to see what you develop tomorrow.
Ugh, the big mouth got into big trouble?
Wow, that was… sudden. I loved the lady character!
oooh yeah! Loving the ending.
Amazing shocks !!!
Oh, my, just how much does she eat?!!