{"id":11001,"date":"2022-07-25T15:28:12","date_gmt":"2022-07-25T21:28:12","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.pjmaclayne.com\/?p=11001"},"modified":"2022-07-25T15:28:18","modified_gmt":"2022-07-25T21:28:18","slug":"flash-tales-a-plagiarists-end","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.pjmaclayne.com\/?p=11001","title":{"rendered":"Flash Tales: A Plagiarist’s End"},"content":{"rendered":"

WARNING: This is not my normal post. This is a writing exercise I did for a FB group. It’s filled with inside jokes, but if you wander across it, I hope you’ll have as much fun reading it as I did writing it.<\/strong><\/p>\n

\n

I stroked the spider-web fine strand of silk on my desk, giving it the slightest tug. “You aren’t as smart as you think you are,” I said as the gears creaked and the chain lowered another two inches.<\/p>\n

The brown-haired man squirmed, and a bead of sweat rolled down his nose. With his hands tied behind his back, he couldn\u2019t wipe it away and it clung to the sharp tip of his beak until he shook his head and it dripped off. “You’ll never get away with this,” he sneered.<\/p>\n

“How original.” I sighed and rubbed the silken line again. “What author did you steal it from? Denise Dianaty? Nora Roberts? I know it wasn’t me.”<\/p>\n

The vat of bat shit under him gurgled. The time it had taken me to collect it was worth it if my plan was successful. I was recording the encounter\u2014audio only\u2014to blast to social media once I got the confession I longed for.<\/p>\n

\u201cAnything that anyone posts on line is fair game.\u201d He struggled against the rope under his armpits as if that would break him loose, but I\u2019d used the mountain climbing knots I\u2019d learned long ago. They\u2019d hold secure\u2014I\u2019d bet my life on them many times.<\/p>\n

\u201cI suppose a small thing like copyright means nothing to you. You don\u2019t care about the craft of writing, you are all about the money.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIn the long run, isn\u2019t that all anyone cares about?\u201d<\/p>\n

This time, I lowered him three inches. His slender body twitched as his sneakers grazed the surface of the bubbling brew. His brown eyes narrowed and his gaze wandered towards the door behind me, as if he was waiting for it to open. I didn\u2019t need to check the lock\u2014there was no chance anyone would break through without me lifting the bar that secured it.<\/p>\n

\u201cBesides,\u201d he continued after a few seconds, \u201cWhat does it matter to you? I never stole from you. I don\u2019t even know who the hell you are. You can\u2019t be worth the effort I\u2019d have to put into it to sell your crap.\u201d<\/p>\n

I took a moment to allow his words to roll off my shoulders. Better people than him had insulted me. \u201cNot me. I\u2019m doing it for a friend. Many friends, actually, and authors I don\u2019t even know. They don\u2019t have the means to get revenge, but I do. So I\u2019m doing this for all of them.\u201d<\/p>\n

Several bubbles popped, and a particularly nasty waft of bat shit odor rose from the cauldron, making it through my gas mask. He gagged and coughed harshly, gasping for fresh air and getting none, a satisfying side-effect I hadn\u2019t considered. I sat back, tented my fingers, and enjoyed the show.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat do you want from me?\u201d he choked out. \u201cDo you want me to say I\u2019m sorry? I\u2019m sorry, but they should have known it was a possibility.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cApology not accepted. We both know you don\u2019t mean it.\u201d<\/p>\n

He rocked side to side, trying to break loose, adding a severe rope rash in his underarms to his limited injuries. I\u2019d drugged his drink and enticed him away from the party with no resistance. With the heavy makeup I\u2019d applied for the evening, He\u2019d never be able to identify me. But getting him bound and in his current position, hanging from a chain installed in the rafters, had been harder than I expected, and we both earned a few scratches in the process.<\/p>\n

Bored with the status quo, I again reached for the thread that would determine his fate.<\/p>\n

\u201cStop!\u201d he screeched, an almost childish scream, not the sound I\u2019d expected from a grown man. \u201cLet me go. I\u2019ll pay them back! Every one of them.\u201d<\/p>\n

I almost believed him. Almost. But my research had told me he was living on beyond his budget, if he had one. He couldn\u2019t pay off even one author without selling off one of his fancy cars. Of course, they were all still owned by the bank, so there\u2019d be no additional money to be had.<\/p>\n

\u201cHow many authors have you ripped off in your shady career?\u201d I asked, curious. I knew of twenty, but it wouldn\u2019t surprise me if there had been more. He\u2019d created manuscripts that changed little more than names and locations in the ones I\u2019d traced.<\/p>\n

He looked at the concoction below. \u201cThree. Maybe four. I\u2019m picky.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd a terrible, no-good liar.\u201d I tugged the thread so his feet were engulfed, then raised him again. His blubbering fed my rage. \u201cHow many?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cForty. Maybe fifty. I hired the work out sometimes, so I don\u2019t r4rally know. Does that satisfy you? You\u2019ve done your damage, now let me go.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, we\u2019re nowhere near done. I had a specific request on how far to go.\u201d I eyed his midsection, then dropped my stare southward. \u201cIt\u2019ll be like getting into a hot tub. Do you want to go fast or slow?\u201d<\/p>\n

His mouth opened and closed and opened again. \u201cYou\u2019ve taken this joke far enough.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cJoke? Do you find it amusing? Like you find plagiarizing funny?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNever again. I swear. You believe me, don\u2019t you? You seem like a sweet little old lady.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cPure Mother Earth. I\u2019ve fooled everyone into thinking that. What they forget is that Mother Earth has a dark side\u2014you know, earthquakes, hurricanes, blizzards\u2014and I\u2019m channeling it right now. Goodbye, Mr. E. Pluribus.\u201d<\/p>\n

With that I cut the cord. I snapped one picture when his gonads hit the bat shit mixture. I had a promise to keep. Then I turned, raised the bar on the door and opened it. On my way out, I turned off the lights and everything went black.<\/p>\n

\n

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