Their attempts to open the old, wooden door had been unsuccessful no matter what they tried. It was hight time to call Hans. Unfortunately, none of them had a phone and the nearest landline was something like six or seven kilometres away. Anyway, Hans never picked up, he had some hearing problems and rarely noticed when it rang. The only way of reaching him was to shout.
He had resorted to use it as a filtering mechanism actually. One shout, lost in the dark, wouldn’t cut it. Neither would two, three or ten. Hans was so trendy nowadays that he just couldn’t answer the demand. He had been trying to expand his reach of course, people’s laughs and lives were at stake after all. He had recruited and trained many interns over the years, but to no avail, none of them had the required endurance.
Following the official index from the national statistic institute, Hans had recently raised the minimum number of simultaneous shouts to 42. It was the highest he had gone so far and it had some deep symbolic meaning of course. Forty-two voices, shouting together, sublimating their fear and rage, created a very specific resonance field, particularly conducive to Hans’ activity.
Luckily, more and more people had joined as they tried new ways to open the old, wooden door, enough for them to reach the threshold. And so they gathered and, on the count of four, shouted at the top of their lungs: «Hans! Get the Flammenwerfer»
Write Now Prompt for October 6th, 2020 – Their attempts to open the old, wooden door had been unsuccessful no matter what they tried. If you’d like to take part, check out Today’s Author.