Flash Fic Challenge: All Ticked Off

 All Ticked Off

The tick board in the old pawn shop hung from a length of rope. Customers came and went. Some turned goods over for a little cash. Some paid outright for the items they wanted or wanted back. And some paid on tick, returning each payday to hand over the next installment of payment for the purchase they were already using. Each installment was duly ticked off on the tick board until it was fully paid off.

Every time someone paid off something bought on tick, the rope grew a little thinner, a little more frayed, as if each tick cut through a single fibre. Every time someone had to default on something bought on tick, the rope grew a little thicker, a little sturdier, as if it was taking what was owed it in a more direct fashion.

It went on year after year like that, the rope waxing and waning in response to the fortunes of the customers, but never quite breaking even at its thinnest, until a loan shark moved in next door.

The loan shark lured in customers, wrapping them in debts they could never pay back while he fattened on them like the rope. Nobody could afford to pay on tick anymore, and the board hung empty, the rope gathering dust rather than strands.

As the customers' debts grew, they brought more to be pawned and bought less, until the shop was paying out more than it took in, and the loan shark smiled, and smiled, and smiled.

The owner of the pawn shop took the board down and unfastened the rope. It swung lightly from his hands, like the twitching tail of a snake, as he told it softly, "We had a bargain, you and I. You collected what was owed, only what was owed, and I pledged my honesty against yours. But now there is one who takes with a smile, until they owe their lives and their souls to him. There is no honesty in him, and he seeks to drive me out and take you over. He owes us the truth. He owes us an apology. He owes us an explanation. I call on you this final time to collect what is owed."

The rope slid from his hands to coil on the floor, and one frayed end caught the light of the setting sun, turning it into strands of shadow that stretched out across the floor towards the loan shark's building.

Next door, the loan shark began to scream. The sound grew thinner and rougher and more frayed as it went on, as if he was unravelling from the inside out.

Nobody ever found his body.

When the owner of the pawn shop hung up the tick board once more, the rope was thick and strong and fresh, as if had never been frayed at all.