The dying light offered little illumination of the clock hands as I entered the foyer. The inner door opened, cheers and applause greeted me. I’d grudgingly come at the summons, an hour late. For years defiance my only recourse. My hand ached and I reached for the brass candlestick, feeling the weight as I hefted it. Stepping into the overcrowded room, I saw my prey. The grey pin striped suit matched my father’s hair, but the wide smile was out of place on his usually disapproving face.

Brushing past my constituents, the stench of tobacco cloying, I proffered myself before the old man. Another round of cheers. I was here, I knew, to be ostracized for my perceived indiscretions. Another round of cheers. Though several had pointedly looked at the item in my hand, no one stopped me.

“I wanted the announcement public. You’ve earned your seat as CEO and will have controlling interest at my retirement. My nepotistic successor.”

His words, the last whispered for only me, registered a second after the blood and bone fragments splashed my face. A full ten seconds later, someone handed me a glass of champagne as cheers flushed the room.

 

Flash fiction challenge. #MenageMonday @ Defiantly Literate

the prompts: The photo (see above)

The Phrase: the dying light

The Judges Prompt: unwarranted enthusiasm from everyone but the protagonist.

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