Friday Flash Fiction: Wick-ed

Friday Flash Fiction
Prompt: Picture and use the word Treasure

“Marie, are you hot?

“Nope.” She never looked up from her magazine.

“I’m hot; this train’s a sweat box.”

“That’s a linen suit; you shouldn’t be hot, take off your jacket and tie.”

“Still hot.”

“Go get some fresh air, if you want,” she was still treasure hunting in her magazine. She loved those black linen slacks in the fashion spread.

***

Seeking even a slightest relief, Bruce stripped-off socks and untucked his undershirt. He felt like he was on fire. He hoped it wasn’t malaria from their month in the jungle.

Rolling-up the cuffs of his pants he saw the beginning of a rash and felt the fever in his ankles.

A porter paged, “Message for Mr. Bruce”

“Here.”

Bruce lit a cigarette as he open the message. It read, “Treasure’s curse translated – 'those who walk on sacred ground will burn as wicks in a lamp of agony.'”

Laughing made him feel better. The train started to move and Bruce briefly lost his balance. As he fought to keep from falling, the smallest ember was knocked, unnoticed, from his cigarette. It fell into the rolled-up cuff of his pants.

***

Dressed in black linen trousers, Marie felt feverish as she read the coroners report “… the linen slacks acted as a wick to pull the flame over victim’s entire body.”

They had given her the two things recovered near Bruce; his watch and a folded note. Looking at the watch she burst into tears. She’d have to read the message later.