"You ever wonder why rich gnomes are always the weirdest?" Clive grunted as he hoisted another crate onto the cart. "I mean, take this guy. He writes bestsellers. Has connections."
"Questionable connections," chimed Jiggs.
"Here-say, bud. But his wealth? This suit is worth more than my entire life savings."
"Put it down," muttered Jiggs, wiping his nose with the back of his sleeve. "You'll get us fired. I just wanna know why the guys moving from District 2 down here? Makes no sense. Who chooses to live in the lower districts?"
"Maybe he likes the smell of rust and oil," Clive chuckled, dragging another box towards the back of the truck. "Or maybe he’s just eccentric. Rich folks can afford to be."
Jiggs narrowed his eyes at their client. Buddy Keisler, admired by 200+ million readers, paced across the warehouse floor, muttering under his breath. Every few minutes, he’d pop open a box, dig through it, then flip it shut with an audible curse.
"He’s lookin’ for somethin’," Jiggs whispered.
"Duh," snorted Clive.
"Something important, I mean."
"Maybe it’s his dignity," Clive smirked. "Left that back in District 2."
Buddy strode over, a forced smile on his face. "Gentlemen! Doing a fine job, fine job indeed. Say, uh, any of these boxes feel... heavier than they should? Fragile contents, you know? Research items for my next book." His fingers twitched as he adjusted his bowtie.
Jiggs and Clive exchanged a look.
"They’re all heavy," Clive said flatly. "Because they’re full of stuff. That’s generally how boxes work."
"Right, right! Of course!" Buddy laughed, a little too high-pitched. "Just... if you find one that seems... particularly odd, do let me know."
Jiggs squinted at him. "You don’t know where your own stuff is?"
"I have a lot of stuff!" Buddy snapped. He looked between the movers and composed himself. "Busy mind, you know, writer and all. Can’t keep track of every little thing."
"Uh-huh." Jiggs grunted.
They went back to work, stacking crates and boxes.
Buddy continued his search.
A few minutes later, Clive groaned. "Hey, Jiggs?"
"Yeah?"
"This one’s weird."
Jiggs glanced over. "Weird?"
Clive nodded. "Like, lumpy."
Jiggs paused mid-lift. "Lumpy?"
Clive thumped the side of the heavy cardboard. Something inside thudded dully.
Both gnomes went still.
Jiggs licked his lips. "That don’t sound like books."
"Nope." Clive swallowed. "Not even fancy rich-gnome books."
Jiggs glanced over at Buddy, still darting between boxes any the other end of the room.
Clive sighed and rubbed his temples. "Should we open it?"
Jiggs nodded slowly.
Clive exhaled.
Jiggs shot him a glare.
The lid cried as tape ripped free.
Jiggs peeled back the flaps of the box.
…and the world stopped.
Inside, curled up like a discarded marionette, eyes stared at nothing. A thin trickle of dried blood traced down the pale temple.
Jiggs let out a strangled squeak. "That’s a body. That’s a whole dead body!"
Clive felt his stomach churn. "Quick, fold it shut!"
"Tsk. Tsk. Tsk."
Jiggs jumped at the sound, and Clive fell back against the stacked boxes.
Buddy Keisler stood in the doorway, hands folded behind his back.
A cold smile replaced his earlier panic.
"So... you have made your choice," he mused, tilting his head. "A shame, really. Could’ve just kept loading the truck. Could’ve gotten your paycheck, gone home, lived long, uneventful lives. But no. Curiosity. Such an inconvenient little thing."
Clive turned, body stiff as metal plating. "Now, Mr. Keisler...there’s gotta be a reasonable explanation for this, right?"
"Of course there is," Buddy said, stepping forward. A slender dagger slid from his sleeve, into his hand.
Jiggs’ breath hitched. "Listen, we—we won’t tell nobody! Right, Clive? We didn’t see a thing! Just two dumb movers doing dumb mover things!"
Buddy smirked. "Tempting. But you know what they say about secrets, don’t you? They weigh you down. Much like... bodies in boxes."
Clive took a cautious step back, raising his hands. "Buddy—be reasonable—"
The blade glinted, a quicksilver arc in the dim warehouse light. Clive barely had time to duck, grabbing a nearby crate and swinging it forward.
Buddy rolled with the impact, but he was fast.
Too fast.
Clive blinked and the dagger was pressed to his throat.
It stung sweetly.
Jiggs bolted.
Buddy sighed, watching him disappear into the shadows.
Clive swallowed. "So, uh... can I clock out first?"
Buddy chuckled, pressing the blade deeper. "Oh, Clive. You’re about to take permanent leave."
The last thing Clive saw was the ceiling spinning.
The last thing he heard was the faint thud of a box closing.
And the last thing he thought?
‘Jiggs better have the brains to keep running.’
Authors Note:
wooHOO…this is my very first attempt at 'flash fiction', thanks to my friend @Scoot, over at Gibberish. This is his 'Flash Fiction Friday' event for January 31st 2025.
There were four prompts, which we could use one or more.
Write about moving to a new place
it stung sweetly
“So you have made your choice?”
The type of character who doesn’t feel safe
I tried to use all four.
Hope you liked it…cause there is much more to come.
IF you enjoyed this tale, please take a moment and share it with someone. If you REALLY enjoyed it, share it with three someone’s.
Once you’ve shared this tale, I’d love to hear your thoughts, so…
I love it.
Loved this