Flash Fiction Piece: Declan

8/17/2019 Flash Fiction Piece: Declan

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Gianna Jackson

Protector Series: Declan14 November 2015

“Late one night on a New York City subway platform, Declan unexpectedly crosses paths with

a drunken lost soul in desperate need of a friend.”

Declan—she was often judged by her non-gender appropriate name, but she got used to it

and she got used to it quick. She had too. Growing up detached and untethered the way that she

did, Declan did not have time or the energy to put any thoughts into who felt the need to poke

fun at or question her name.

It was her mother’s name, but strangers did not need to know that, and she was not

obligated to tell them or explain the meaning or origin of her name. That was hers and hers

alone.

She was a painter and a bassist for a small, unknown jazz band in Brooklyn. Sometimes

Declan thought she was some how destined to be one of the many "artists" types in Brooklyn

because of her name, but most of the time she thought it silly to even assume such a ridiculous

idea. The sheer fallacy in the notion that our names shape the people we grow up to be or the

preordained idea behind where we end up in life stemming from a person's name, and not their

own choices was just absurd.

It was Declan’s philosophy that every individual was capable of crossing any line or any

road they wanted in order to shape the type of person they wanted to be in life. Most people take

for granted the power and infinite ability that the mind has to offer.

Declan broke away from her thoughts and groaned, stuffing out the cigarette she had

been nursing for the last fifteen minutes under her foot. Stealing a glance down the tracks,


2/5

Declan checked the time on her cellphone—1:56 am. Her train was late—again. You would think

the later train would run on schedule considering there were less people trying to catch it.

Declan thought as she rubbed the back of her sore neck. At this point, she was ready to

just turn around and walk the ten blocks to her apartment. She was so tired and it had been a

really, really long day that she almost failed to hear it—the sound of the empty bourbon bottle

rolling on the ground.

To his friends and family, Ben was known as the funny, upbeat and forever positive,

sturdy ledge that they could always lean on. No one ever took the time to think or consider that if

they were all leaning on Ben, then who could he lean on?

Ben spent half his time in college and grad school supporting his mother and his younger

brother; juggling two, sometimes three part-time jobs. However, it did not end there. After

school, when Ben was supposed to go off to California to pursue his writing career, he was

talked into staying around for another year just until his mother and brother had a secure enough

financial blanket to survive on while he was away. Then, he needed to stick around to help two

of his college friends who needed his help launching their business; from there, more and more

favors followed.

Before he knew it, five and a half years had gone by in the blink of an eye and Ben

realized that he had not done any of the things he wanted to do with his life since he graduated

from college. Ben spent his entire life propping up those around him and supporting others that

he lost himself. When was the last time anyone asked me what I wanted to do or what it was that

I needed?


3/5

Ben woke up that morning in a cold sweat and rolled out of bed to get ready for a

business management job that he hated for the simplest reason that the paycheck covered both

his and his mother’s rent.

Needless to say, Ben was not happy. For the past five and a half years, he had been so

focused on making sure he kept his family afloat and fed that he did not realize the effect it was

having on him. He was drowning and the trip into work that morning allowed him to see just

how deep he was sinking. What am I doing here?

Ben excused himself from the weekly scheduled two-hour briefing meeting and told his

assistant, Jim that he was going out to run a last minute errand and had been wondering around

the city ever since. That is until Ben ran out of cash on his third bottle of bourbon and stumbled

his way towards the subway and onto a bench where he passed out for four hours.

Ben wasn’t sure what it was that woke him from his drunken slumber, but when he

looked at his cellphone and realized how long it had been since he disappeared from the office

without so much as a text message from his so called close friends who leaned on him all the

time, Ben felt hollow. Not even a phone call from my mother. Ben pulled the bottle of bourbon

up to his lips for another swig and noticed it was empty. When did that happen?

The slight rumble of the approaching train under Ben’s feet suddenly sparked the darkest

and most weighted idea he has ever had in his entire life.

Declan was already a third of the way up the steps when she felt the slight rush of air

flooding the subway that signaled the arrival of her super late train. She almost did not want to

turn around, but the sound of the rolling bourbon bottle seized her attention. Declan frowned

when she spotted Ben, unaware that there was anyone else waiting for that train besides her.


4/5

Regardless, she did not have a chance to recall if she had seen him on the platform or not before

her feet bolted toward the man with his foot already raised off of the platform.

Declan’s heart seemed to lurch out of her chest only remembering her finger tips grazing

the edge of his suit jacket before she hit the ground and slammed into the side of an old wooden

bench. The first sign that the adrenaline was wearing off was the throbbing pain Declan felt

against her shoulders and the base of her neck. Then came the realization that she landed in

something undeniably foul as the stench of urine and musk reached her nose. Ugh, what the hell?

Declan thought, suddenly aware of the heavy individual whose fall she broke.

“What the hell?” Declan shouted as she pushed Ben off of her and rose to her feet.

“You just caused me to land in subway goo.” Ben remained silent and still as he laid flat

on his back on the platform; his focus on the cloggy, gray dust that covered the subway ceiling

and not on the fuming expression of his savior.

Declan lurched her foot back and rammed it into Ben’s side. “I’m talkin’ to you.” Ben

rolled over onto his side and cried out in pain, finally making eye contact.

“I just saved your ass, the least you can do is respond,” Declan demanded.

“Well no body asked you too,” Ben replied as he rubbed at his sore ribs.

Declan looked at the open doors for her train. Just a few steps and I am home free. She

thought as she turned her back on Ben. The train doors closed and Ben looked up to watch it

leave him alone with his still darkening thoughts.

“I’m still waiting for an answer.” Ben jerked back on the ground surprised to still see his

savior scowling down at him with her arms crossed. “At the very least, a ‘Thank you’ is in

order.”


5/5

Ben shook his head and moved to stand, but found it a bit difficult. He knew that due to

the alcohol he consumed, there was a chance that his body was suffering from more injuries than

he was physically aware of.

“Look, no offense but clearly you seem like you’ve had a rough day, dude. And I’d offer

to buy you a drink to help you ‘sus it all out, but clearly you’ve had more than enough tonight.”

Declan raised her hands innocently when Ben shot her a look.

“What I can do, is lend you a pair of ears while I walk you to the emergency room,”

Declan offered her hand to Ben. “I’m Declan.”

Ben locked eyes with Declan. She cannot be serious. Ben thought, but there was a stern

sincerity glimmering in her unwavering gaze and Ben suddenly became embarrassed and

overwhelmingly grateful for the odd stranger who just saved his life.

Regardless of his gratitude, a touch of humor unexpectedly made its way to the surface of

Ben’s face, as he could not help the smile pulling at his lips. Declan…what an odd name for a

girl. After another moment, Ben nodded as he took Declan’s hand and allowed her to help him to

his feet. “It’s nice to meet you, Declan. My name is Ben.”

The End.

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Flash Fiction Piece: Declan