Flash Friday #62 'Enough'
Original flash fiction: When a job starts affecting your health, it's time to move on...
Welcome to ‘Flash Friday’ where every week I share some of my original flash fiction.
This week’s story was inspired by the writing prompt: ‘the attack was over in seconds’.
This is another example of what might look like an obvious starting point: someone or something attacks the protagonist, then what happens next? But as regular readers of ‘Read ~ Write ~ Dream’ will know by now, I like to try and think outside of the box with these writing prompts to see if I can approach them in a different way rather than go down the obvious route.
I hope you enjoy reading this one, and please leave a ‘like’ or a comment below if you’d like to share your thoughts - I’d love to hear what you think.
The attack was over in seconds but Jenna knew it was serious. She’d been experiencing minor heart flutters for a while now, but this was the first time she had felt any sort of danger. With it came an epiphany, a moment of clarity: life is precious and all too brief. If she wasn’t careful she would end up working herself into an early grave. Things couldn’t continue the way they were, something had to give, and that something appeared to be her health.
Gulping in air like she’d just been saved from drowning, Jenna put two fingers on the side of her neck and tested her pulse. The beat pattern seemed normal now, if still a little elevated. Reassured somewhat, she released her iron-like grip on the splintered, wooden armrest of the park bench and closed her eyes for a moment. She’d only nipped out for a few minutes to buy a sandwich for lunch to take back and eat at her desk, when suddenly it had happened. Her vision had dimmed and her heart had felt like it skipped several beats before thumping hard and painfully in her chest two or three times. Staggering to the nearest bench she had held on to it for dear life as her body shook in panic.
It wasn’t a heart attack, she knew the symptoms, but it was a warning shot, brought on no doubt by sustained high levels of stress. Relieved she might be, still checking her now-steady pulse, but she’d have been lying if she’d claimed to not be terrified. In that moment the fragility of her body had been brought home to her. It was time to talk to talk to the doctor. And to change jobs.
Work had been especially tough recently with major changes within the business. A ‘strategic restructuring’ had of course meant staff cuts, a hold on any new hires, and redistributing the extra workload amongst the poor sods who were left. All combined with a suitably large dose of corporate gaslighting cheerfully reminding them how lucky they were to be getting the opportunity to ‘prove themselves’. It was bullshit, and they all knew it, but of course they all played along with the narrative like good little drones, spinning their overfull plates until they spilled over, and juggling deadlines like they were oranges.
They’d managed it for a few months, but when standards inevitably slipped and deadlines got missed, yet more pressure was heaped upon them, “We don’t want to disappoint our clients now, do we?” Perhaps they should have thought about their precious clients before sacking half the workforce.
Just thinking about it, Jenna could feel her pulse start racing again; the cold rush of cortisol flooding through her veins once more. Enough was enough. Glancing down at the gravel beneath her feet she watched as an ant struggled past her with a large piece of leaf. On it strove, navigating the various mountains and valleys of its small world, performing its function with no ability to question its purpose. She felt an odd empathy with the creature.
Taking a deep breath, Jenna got up then sat down again quickly as her vision temporarily blacked out from a head-rush. Getting up more slowly this time, she continued along the familiar path towards Mo’s Mobile Kitchen; it was still lunchtime and she still needed something to eat. Mo took pity on her, concerned at how pale she looked, and gave her a free coffee. Sipping at it carefully on the walk back, trying to avoid scalding her tongue, she mulled over the wording of her resignation letter. She was going to tell those profit-obsessed bastards where to stick it.
If you’re not already subscribed, why not sign up?
All posts remain free and open access, as I’m passionate about my writing being accessible to all, so you can subscribe for free and get first access to all my posts.
A paid-for option also remains live for those of you who would like to support Read ~ Write ~ Dream financially, after all, writers have bills to pay too...
A huge thank you to everyone who has subscribed so far!
If you would like to support Read ~ Write ~ Dream with a one off donation without the commitment of a paid subscription, how about buying me a cup of tea?
And don’t forget to follow me on social media:
Join me and thousands of others around the world writing in community in ‘Writers’ Hour’ with The London Writers’ Salon: sign up here.