Shoulder Advice

Fenton could feel the thrill rush through him. He’d done it! They said it was impossible. They said he didn’t have the tools or the experience or cunning to pull off such a feat and yet...mission accomplished.

“Don’t think you will get away with this,” said a soft voice on his right shoulder.

He turned quickly but no one was there.

“She will know. Everyone will know.”

Doubt began to settle in. It was a strange sensation, the uncertainty of an outcome. He tried to shrug it off as it made him feel...something; like the opposite of happy.

Then from the left shoulder...

“Don’t worry kid. You did good. You deserve a prize. In fact, no one else could have pulled this off. Can you imagine that other guy doing this? You know, that baby faced poser that’s been hanging around lately. Sure, he’s been getting all the praise from the higher-ups but this, this thing you did. It will make you a legend.”

Fenton didn’t need to look to know that no one was there. Still, he liked what he was hearing. Best to be optimistic.

From the right, “They’re coming for you. Best to confess. Tell them you lost control.”

From the left came, “Don’t do it! Once you confess, it doesn’t matter what you say. Spilt milk baby. Best you find someone else to pin this on if the heat comes down.”

Approaching steps made Fenton flip a mental coin. Confess or deflect.

Sandra entered the dinning room to find the roast beef completely gone, gravy all over the floor and a dog with mashed potatoes all over its face.

“What happened here!” she demanded of the dog.

Fenton rolled his eyes over to the baby sleeping in the highchair at the end of the table.

Word count 299

Written for Daily Flash Fiction Contest: Prompt - must contain the line, "It doesn't matter."