Legionnaire
Author : Duncan Shields, Staff Writer
With lost marbles over mixed drinks, I stare at the face reflected in the oak bar. It looks more real to me, somehow, than I feel.
The bartender comes over to me. His huge moustache is waxed to slippery perfection. He looks down at me with crossed arms and a scowl. I know what that means. Time to pay up and leave.
I look up at him. I smile to let him know that I’m alright. The mirror behind the bar shows me that I’m a clown with wide rubbery lips smiling an idiot’s smile. The five-o’clock shadow on my face has turned into a two-in-the-morning carpet.
I’m having trouble balancing on the wide stool that I’m on. He doesn’t even need to say it. The bartender’s right. I’m done for the night.
I reach back to get my wallet. It takes five tries. He’s patient.
I pull out my credit card and lay it on the bar. The bartender picks it up and carries it over the credit card machine. The last half inch of my martini is trying to keep the bottom of the olive damp.
I try to fish the olive out of the glass but I fumble. The glass skips away and falls over, spilling the last little bit of gin onto the bar.
“Oh Jesus, Danny!†I hear from the end of the bar. I recognize the voice. I look up from licking the gin off of the bar to see what the problem is.
It’s the bartender again. He’s looking straight at me. I wonder why he’s doing that until I remember than my name is Danny and he’s probably found a problem with my credit card.
He comes back and puts the card down with the receipt. It’s gone through just fine. Of course it had. This is the magic card given to me by the government after the war. It never runs out. I was determined to drink the treasury dry.
I bring my other arm, the heavy one, up with a clank onto the bar. Its jagged shapes are cornered with rubber to prevent it from scratching furniture or people. Its barrel has been filled and plugged, never to fire again.
It’s too wired into my head to be removed, they said, and this credit card is their apology.
“You can’t lick the bar, Danny. You know that.†The bartender says and shakes his head.
â€But….I shpilled.†I explain, amazed at the thickness of my own tongue.
“Come on, Danny. You can’t stay here. Go on. Get out. See you tomorrow morning.†Said Danny, not unkindly.
I stand up, aim for the door and walk outside. It takes five tries. He’s patient.
I fall over with a crunch of glass into the garbage in the alley behind the bar. I smell limes. I don’t get up.
Home Sweet Home. I’m enjoying the freedom I fought to preserve.
I’ve drunk enough that the faces of the screaming children in a country far away won’t wake me up. That’s the theory, anyway.
I close my eyes.
This is your future: Submit your stories to 365 Tomorrows

The Past
365tomorrows launched August 1st, 2005 with the lofty goal of providing a new story every day for a year. We’ve been on the wire ever since. Our stories are a mix of those lovingly hand crafted by a talented pool of staff writers, and select stories received by submission.
The archives are deep, feel free to dive in.

Flash Fiction
"Flash fiction is fiction with its teeth bared and its claws extended, lithe and muscular with no extra fat. It pounces in the first paragraph, and if those claws aren’t embedded in the reader by the start of the second, the story began a paragraph too soon. There is no margin for error. Every word must be essential, and if it isn’t essential, it must be eliminated."
Kathy Kachelries
Founding Member

Submissions
We're open to submissions of original Science or Speculative Fiction of 600 words or less. We are only accepting work which you previously haven't sold or given away the rights to. That means your work must not have been published elsewhere, either in print or on the web. When your story is accepted, you're giving us first electronic publication rights and non-exclusive subsequent publication rights. You retain ownership over your story. We are not a paying market.

Voices of Tomorrow
Voices of Tomorrow is the official podcast of 365tomorrows, with audio versions of many of the stories published here.
If you're interested in recording stories for Voices of Tomorrow, or for any other inquiries, please contact ssmith@365tomorrows.com