Monday, October 8, 2012

The Spider and the Fly



“Sir!” the man turned to face the Lackey.
“Don’t tell me; you found the source of our problem, didn’t you?” The Lackey licked his suddenly dry lips and nodded, not daring to say anything. The Director, as he was referred to, strode forward until he was nose-to-nose with the Lackey. “Do you have any idea how vital our mission is to this agency?”
            Any less experienced man would have taken action to defend himself. The Lackey knew better. The Director strode to his desk and pressed the intercom button. The dim bulb on a cord above their heads swung freely as a hypnotist’s watch might, immobilizing the Lackey.
            “Send the interviewer.” With those words the young lackey’s heart froze in his chest. People joked about the gruesome tactics of the Interviewer. But not when it was in your face. As his thoughts raced, the young man’s eyes suddenly narrowed.
            “Sir?” The Director, his face to the wall, glanced over his shoulder. “How did you know about the inside job?” The Director began to laugh. The Lackey suddenly felt like a fly ensnared by the spider. He had failed his mission.
            “I never said anything about an inside job did I?” The Director sneered. “I simply mentioned a problem, not a wolf in sheep’s clothing.” The Lackey couldn’t help but notice the glint in The Director’s eye. It was the look of a predator going in for the kill. The Lackey could only hope, now, that his replacement might fare better than he. He was sinking into nothingness.
            But a good double agent always has a trick up his sleeve.
            “Don’t even think about it.” The Lackey’s heart stopped altogether. “There’s no way to sneak out of here. Not if you want to stay alive.” Don’t worry the Lackey thought, it won’t matter to you in a moment, anyway.
            Dead men tell no tales. If nothing else the Lackey was trained well- never leave a witness. His hand was in his jacket when he heard a thwip-thwip, and he felt a sharp pain in his back.
            He fell silently to the ground. The Interviewer’s gargantuan form now filled the doorway behind the man’s collapsed body. The Director stared at it for a moment, then waved the Interviewer off and called for those in charge of Disposal. Efficiency was key in this business.

Copyright Jackson Kerr 2012

Monday, October 1, 2012

Another Poem

Peer Pressure

Sometimes my fears are all that I see
Blinding me to a what I could do,
But I won't let them be the master of me.

It may feel, at times, that all I can be
Is what others tell me that I am.
Sometimes my fears are all that I see

I may fear ideas of individuality,
Letting others tell me when I fit in just right
But I won't let them be the master of me.

When there's a distance from all those who know me
And the only right option is an unpopular choice
Sometimes my fears are all that I see.

When what lies ahead seems just, but not happy
And I decide to stand against all that's comfortable
Sometimes my fears are all that I see
But I won't let them be the master of me.


Copyright 2012 Jackson Kerr