300 Word Flash Fiction Contest Winner
It had been a long, hard day and Brad was glad it was over. At least he hoped it was. Setting the shovel aside, he looked up at the woman at the top of the hole.
“Is this deep enough?” he asked.
Liz Farrington glanced down at her hired hand. She was a beautiful twenty-something blonde who could have any man she wanted. Not even the small scar on her right cheek diminished her beauty. In fact, Brad thought, it made her more beautiful.
“I guess so,” she said. “How deep do you think it is?”
Brad raised one hand over his head to gauge the depth. Judging by his height, he figured he was at least eight feet down. He told her so.
“Alright then,” Liz said. “You can stop. C’mon out of there.”
Brad climbed up the ladder and pulled it out of the hole. Just being down there gave him the willies, even if it wasn’t his own grave.
“So why do you want your husband dead?” Brad asked. He knew it was none of his business, and he expected to be told so. But Liz wasn’t fazed.
“Because he’s a liar, a cheat, and a general ass. Besides," she said with an impish grin, "I’ll get his money.”
Brad was a little startled by her candor, but he didn’t show it.
“Speaking of money,” she continued, “here’s yours.” She reached in her purse and handed him a check for one thousand dollars.
“Thanks,” Brad said as he pushed her into the hole.
“What have you done?” Liz screamed, brushing the dirt off her dress. “Are you insane? Get me out of here!”
“Sorry, Mrs. Farrington,” Brad said. He reached in his backpack and pulled out a pistol. “Your husband paid more.”