Flash Fiction: The last game

pool hall

(Photo prompt courtesy of Etolbagam.com)

She was a rough old girl. Faded memorabilia hung lopsidedly on peeling walls, floorboards were scraped raw. The ancient pool table had a peculiar lean to it and you had to account for the roll away from the far-right pocket. The bar was grimy and the barstools tattered and filthy.

A demolition sign was plastered on the door. Tomorrow.

He peered through the dirty window. It was here they had celebrated graduation with drinking games and too much boot-scooting. It was here he had bet fifty bucks – and lost – to a slip of a girl with a dangerous smile.

Three old codgers sat at the bar, but they were the only ones now.

He pushed open the door. The old familiar smell of stale beer and cigarettes. He smiled.

“Hey Mack! Give us a beer! And one last game.”

 

(147 words)

Flash Fiction for aspiring writers is hosted by the lovely Priceless Joy.

Flash Fiction

 

 

 

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16 thoughts on “Flash Fiction: The last game

  1. A wonderful piece of writing! I love the way you leave us with dialogue of one of the character’s…it helps the story to live on after it has lonf finished. I can imagine your characters in this setting because of your powerful and snappy imagery. Wishing you a creative 2016. It’s a pleasure to have discovered your blog this evening. Donna

  2. Great piece of nostalgic writing. I feel bad for the three old men who have all these memories there and are losing their favorite place to meet. At least they have one last drink.
    Great job.

  3. Those men, eh? They don’t let go of the neighborhood bar easily. I have a sense that he was just pretending to be so nonchalant. Enjoyed this piece and it’s sense of place and loss.
    Ellespeth

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