Sledgehammer Writing Contest

We’re getting back in the swing of posting these stories after the contest went on hiatus for several years, so I’m sorry we missed including the prompts this time. Enjoy the story, though!

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Whispers: 2am Radio Broadcast

By Zachariah O’Keeffe / Roll for Writing

The radio crackles through the dead air as you drive through the night, the windows are down. Even with the speed you are driving, the air is humid and heavy. Sliding in over the dead static, a voice comes over the radio: “Hello, caller, you’re on the air…”

“I was never a city boy, and certainly never really thought about moving west. No sir, I was quite happy with my life in Kansas City. But, when one works for the government, one goes where they are told. I thought getting hired by the IRS as a tax auditor was my ticket to a comfortable life, at least compared to where and how I had grew up, but they told me where they had an opening; a dirty city on the coast, some place called Port Astor. I had never heard of it.”

“It wasn’t a permanent thing, they reassured me, and they’d try to send me somewhere closer to home, but… they needed me to check on something. They had a pharmaceutical company, MalaMedi, that had submitted the exact same tax information for five years in a row. Normally, there’s at least a little deviation, and after a random review, it got flagged. They sent a local gal to do an audit, but they just stopped hearing from her. So they decided to send another. Me.”

“When I landed at the airport, and took my rental into the city, I was aghast. This place had never been invaded or bombed, but if you told me it had, I would believe you. There was a hungry dread that was in the air, and how the sickly light spindled through the clouds. I went straight to the office, my plan was to try and get this long process done as fast as possible. I felt stupid now having seen the city for the bravado I gave to my superiors; I believe the phrase ‘no more Mr. Nice Guy’ was said by one foolish me.”

“Walking into the sterile corporate lobby was jarring, and the air was different– it felt… dead. I introduced myself, and was told to wait, so wait I did. At some point, I heard the elevator chime, and a blonde woman stepped out like the lobby floor was a stage, light shining down on her, and her alone.”

“We exchanged the expected formalities, and went to an equally plastic-feeling conference room where… everything was laid out perfectly. Not like perfect– perfect. For every question I could have had, a pristine form with an answer, and a wide, perfect smile that never faded.”

“I was there only an afternoon, which was exemplary time for a full audit, but an afternoon too long. We never did find out what happened to the prior auditor, but I also never asked.”

As the callers voice fades into the static, you only hear one other thing; a voice from earlier; “Thank you, caller…”

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Zachariah is a writer from the Pacific Northwest who enjoys telling stories with his friends, and thinking about how things work. When not trading his time for money, he can be found at various cafes around town. Proud member of the National Writers Union & the Freelance Solidarity Project. Also a member of the Horror Writers Association. The body of his work can be found at https://makeawritingcheck.blogspot.com/.

Filed under: Great BOLD Write-Off, Mini Sledgehammers | Tagged: books, fiction, life, love, Roll for Writing, writing, Zachariah O'Keefe |