Top Tweets for #SAMRIOTREDUX

4 months ago

#BraveWrite rise I can feel a name rising in his throat. “Don’t you dare say it,” I snarl. “Unless you really wanna die here.” My words shake him. His back stiffens against mine. in #SAMRIOTREDUX Part 2

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@CamieElias

4 months ago

#amwriting #neonoir #flashfiction #noirfiction #shortstories #SAMRIOTREDUX SAM RIOT REDUX: A SLIPSTREAM NOIR PART 1: THIS IS NOT A DATE, IS IT? The room is one thick shadow pierced by a single light bulb hanging from the ceiling. “Our first date,” he scoffs. We’re shackled, wrists and ankles, sitting together, back to back, on a bare concrete floor. The place is stifling. It smells of rot and rat’s urine. There’s something else in the air, but I don’t want to think about it. I tell myself it’s too soon for that. “This is not a date,” I tell him, as matter-of-fact as possible. He chuckles quietly, then says, “I’d rather die believing I was actually on a date.” “That’s because you’re way too romantic for your own good.” He chuckles again but says nothing. The heat from his body spreads across my back; it feels like a warm coat on a hot summer’s night. After a silence that seems to last forever, he mutters, “No. That’s not it.” I know. ▪️▪️▪️ PART 2: DON’T SAY IT Some strange miracle – or maybe the drugs they’d used on us – makes me nod off. I wake up a few perhaps too many minutes later, half-startled, the aftertaste of a nightmare lingering in my mouth. I try to move. It wasn't just a bad dream after all: Trevo and I are still shackled together under a single light bulb inside a dark, windowless room. It’s still stifling. The stench hasn’t changed. My hands and feet feel numb. “Sam?” Trevo calls out, sounding almost as startled. “I’m fine. Just blacked out for a bit.” “Yes,” he says. “You were snoring.” “Thanks. Always good to know.” He scoffs. “No. I mean, I could hear you snore, so I knew you were asleep, not…” “I know.” A moment of silence goes by as I try to get my blood circulating again. “What is this smell?” Trevo suddenly asks. “Have you noticed it? It smells like…” I can feel a name rising in his throat. “Don’t you dare say it,” I snarl. “Unless you really wanna die here.” My words shake him. His back stiffens against mine. “No. Of course not,” he mutters. “But… it does smell like…” He refrains from saying the name. “Doesn’t it?” My breath turns into a sigh. “Yes.” Trevo’s cogs keep turning for a while. “Is he going to kill us?” he asks. Then, remembering one of us isn’t exactly mortal, he rephrases: “Is he going to kill me?” “I sure hope not. Good associates are hard to come by.” His chuckle ripples up and down my back. “Just don’t tell him that joke about being on a date,” I add – and listen to the chuckle die out. “No,” Trevo agrees, dead serious now. “He wouldn’t like that.” No, he wouldn’t. ▪️▪️▪️ TO BE CONTINUED Learn more about SAM RIOT https://t.co/O92yDu2qaa ▪️▪️▪️ ©2026 CE

CamieElias's tweet photo. #amwriting #neonoir #flashfiction #noirfiction #shortstories #SAMRIOTREDUX

SAM RIOT REDUX: A SLIPSTREAM NOIR

PART 1: THIS IS NOT A DATE, IS IT?
The room is one thick shadow pierced by a single light bulb hanging from the ceiling.

“Our first date,” he scoffs.

We’re shackled, wrists and ankles, sitting together, back to back, on a bare concrete floor. The place is stifling. It smells of rot and rat’s urine. There’s something else in the air, but I don’t want to think about it. I tell myself it’s too soon for that.

“This is not a date,” I tell him, as matter-of-fact as possible.

He chuckles quietly, then says, “I’d rather die believing I was actually on a date.”

“That’s because you’re way too romantic for your own good.”

He chuckles again but says nothing. The heat from his body spreads across my back; it feels like a warm coat on a hot summer’s night.

After a silence that seems to last forever, he mutters, “No. That’s not it.”

I know.

▪️▪️▪️

PART 2: DON’T SAY IT

Some strange miracle – or maybe the drugs they’d used on us – makes me nod off.

I wake up a few perhaps too many minutes later, half-startled, the aftertaste of a nightmare lingering in my mouth. I try to move.

It wasn't just a bad dream after all: Trevo and I are still shackled together under a single light bulb inside a dark, windowless room. It’s still stifling. The stench hasn’t changed. My hands and feet feel numb.

“Sam?” Trevo calls out, sounding almost as startled.

“I’m fine. Just blacked out for a bit.”

“Yes,” he says. “You were snoring.”

“Thanks. Always good to know.”

He scoffs. “No. I mean, I could hear you snore, so I knew you were asleep, not…”

“I know.”

A moment of silence goes by as I try to get my blood circulating again.

“What is this smell?” Trevo suddenly asks. “Have you noticed it? It smells like…”

I can feel a name rising in his throat.

“Don’t you dare say it,” I snarl. “Unless you really wanna die here.”

My words shake him. His back stiffens against mine.

“No. Of course not,” he mutters. “But… it does smell like…” He refrains from saying the name. “Doesn’t it?”

My breath turns into a sigh. “Yes.”

Trevo’s cogs keep turning for a while.

“Is he going to kill us?” he asks. Then, remembering one of us isn’t exactly mortal, he rephrases: “Is he going to kill me?”

“I sure hope not. Good associates are hard to come by.”

His chuckle ripples up and down my back.

“Just don’t tell him that joke about being on a date,” I add – and listen to the chuckle die out.

“No,” Trevo agrees, dead serious now. “He wouldn’t like that.”

No, he wouldn’t.

▪️▪️▪️
TO BE CONTINUED

Learn more about SAM RIOT
https://t.co/O92yDu2qaa

▪️▪️▪️
©2026 CE

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@CamieElias

4 months ago

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