This is where I post flash fiction I've written for other blogs, such as Shell's place and TLS.
***
Oceans
(the prompt was a video of the Pearl Jam song "Oceans.")
I am Jack's lack of empathy.
His cold steel.
Unwavering.
Solid.
I am his raging adrenaline.
His unrivaled apoplexy.
Unchecked.
True.
I slide a round in and I take aim on the kevlar dome and I close my right eye and I make sure the aim is true and I squeeze ever so slightly and then more and just a little bit more and soon I feel the soft click and then the hard pull and I see it explode, the head inside the helmet. Boom goes the man who stood between me and my future.
I am Jack's soldier of fortune.
His corrupt warrior.
Unprincipled.
Driven.
I always said I'd do anything to make sure I got back alive.
I have a girl to get home to.
-30-
Fairytales
 | |
| The prompt |
The old woman did not believe. She never had, and always vowed that she never would.
She lay in a hospital bed that had been installed in her bedroom two Thursdays ago. A hospice nurse sat by her side. The afternoon sun sneaked in the window; dust bunnies danced.
“May I read?” the nurse asked.
The old woman did not respond.
“For since we believe that Jesus died and rose again, even so, through Jesus, God will bring with him those who have fallen asleep,” the nurse read.
“That’s Thessalonians,” she said. She smiled, but the old woman was silent. Her chest rose, and it fell, and the gap between the rising and the falling began to grow.
The nurse flipped pages and read more.
“Jesus said to her, ‘I am the resurrection and the life. He who believes in me will live, even though he dies.’”
“That’s the Book of John,” the nurse said. The old woman remained quiet.
“What do you think you’re doing?” It was the old woman’s daughter, home from work now. “You know she doesn’t believe in fairytales.”
The nurse closed her book and she smiled peacefully. “You’re never too old to believe.”
-30-
The Call
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| The prompt |
The world ended long before we knew it.
She calls us one by one. The light. She calls so sweetly.
My mother answered the call on June 12, 2007. My father a year and two days after that. My brother and my teachers and and my soccer coach and everyone I had ever known and would never know, now. They answered the call of the light.
I am the last.
I had fantasies of remaining. I would resist. It was just a light. The ships had landed oh so long ago, when I was a little girl.
Visitors from another world, they said. How exciting, they said.
Backdrops, they'd become.
Then the calling began.
It calls from the water. From the ships, submerged. A tunnel of lights.
On the day of my rebirth the light calls and I go. I strip my clothes and I toe the water and I submerge and I drift feet first toward the light and it is warm and it welcomes me with shadows on my body.
The light. She welcomes. So sweetly.
-30-
Panties
 |
| The prompt |
Fuckin' whore.
I can't see inside the house, the glare turning the windows into mirrors.
She's probably walkin' around naked like whores do.
I slide my fingers through the gate, flip the latch.
She's probably watching, wishing I'd break in, throw her down, do what a real man does to a woman like that.
They all wish for it, a strong man to take charge, fuck 'em like the whores they are.
A woman don't leave an invitation like that without wanting it. I've been giving it to 'em for months now, reading the signs they leave, screaming billboards inviting me in. The cops can't catch me.
A clothesline full of panties? Shit. Can't say no to that request.
As soon as I'm through the back door I'm on the ground. There's a gun in my face and some bitch slaps cuffs on me.
"Got him, sarge," she says into her radio.
She puts a knee in my back so I can't breathe. Says, "You're done, motherfucker." Flips me over, spits in my face.
I lick my lips and I wonder if the rumor's true about what happens to rapists in prison.
-30-
And she twirls
 |
| The prompt |
It's a dream
this dance we dance.
It's a dance
the dream we dream.
I am atop a mountain
holding you and letting you go
and watching you twirl.
And you twirl.
"Marry me."
"But I can't."
You smile so big.
"You must."
"But I must
not."
"The stars demand it."
"The stars don't
demand.
The stars exist."
"Destiny wants it."
"Destiny wants
nothing.
Destiny demands."
You're right.
Destiny is inescapable.
And that is right.
You embrace it.
And you twirl
and I watch you twirl
and I reach for you
as you twirl
but the twirling
never stops
and I know
I don't want the twirling to stop
even though you'll twirl away.
"The stars," you say
out of breath though you are.
The sky calls you
and you answer and you look up and you gaze.
At the stars you gaze as you twirl.
"Yes," I say
and I look upon them and I see
it there.
Our destiny. Mine. Yours. And I know your answer already.
You smile
so big you smile.
And so I watch you twirl.
I will watch and I will
wait
while forever you twirl.
***
Starlight
 |
| The prompt |
Once upon no time in a land of no wishes a boy with no truth bumped into a star.
"Pardon me," he said with a smirk.
"Yes yes," said the star. "Is that a question or an answer?"
"I should hope a request, Madame," he said with a sparkle.
"Yes yes you should," she said back to him with her back to him. "I most certainly hope so."
"Shall I go then?" the boy said in earnest, very earnestly.
"Not yet," she said and she turned back around. "Dance in flip flops and festoon the unicorns with glitter."
The star sighed and slumped, which pleased the mischievous boy to no good end.
He danced and he pulled glitter from the air and sparkle rained and the unicorns galloped and smiled like a throng of forgiven mystics.
"May I tell you a lie?" the boy said to the star.
"You must," the fallen star replied to the boy with a dazzle, for she had not been lied to in ages, so strong was the desire for wishes among those who believed truth was what she wanted to hear.
"I am not a boy who longs for wishes," the boy blurted out.
"And I am a star with no wishes left," the star shot back. She liked this ping-pong of lies.
"I never lie," said the boy.
"And I am unbroken," she retorted.
He smiled at her and she glowed at him.
"Lie to me again," she whispered.
The boy thought and thought and he came upon the biggest lie of all and he gasped at its power for he knew he had won because the only lies that matter are those we believe because we are broken.
"I love you," he said, and he collected his wish.
******
Garden of clues
 |
| Dual prompts |
 |
| Dual prompts |
Evelyn Ryker stooped low. She put her hand on the side of the skiff and she squinted her eyes and held her breath and with her free hand she put a handkerchief to her face because she could smell it already.
She looked and she confirmed her suspicions and she said, "It's him" to the forensic team and thus began a flurry of activity in which she had little interest.
The answers were apparent already.
She removed her hand from the skiff and shielded her eyes from the sun and stepped away to let the boys do their work.
She had tracked this man and now he was dead, rotting away on a fine spring afternoon under a boat named Joy in a garden of Eden just outside Sonoma, California.
That was all the clue she needed.
She mentally stocked the facts and she packed up her things and she headed back into town with a smirk on her face and a spring in her step. What a fun game this was.
Joy Garden, she thought. Clever. But not clever enough. It's my turn now.
******
Buckets
 |
| The prompt |
"OK, now push."
"Wait. Push? Like we're gonna tip it over?"
"Yeah. That's why we're here."
"No."
"Whatdya mean ’no’?"
"I mean no, young lady. I am not going to push this animal over. It might get hurt."
"You're no fun."
"I am too."
"Are not."
"Sigh."
"Did you just say ’sigh’? As in, like, you said the word sigh instead of sighing?"
"So?"
"That's just weird, mom."
"Weird is fun. Isn't it?"
"I guess it can be. But it can also just be weird."
"I shaved my head so we'd look the same. That's weird and fun, isn't it?"
"It's sweet, is what it is."
"So I'm weird, fun and sweet. Best mom ever, right?"
"Yeah. Best mom ever."
"So I'm not doing the cow-tipping. What's next on your list? We have all day."
"Skydiving."
"Good lord, girl. Are you crazy?"
"No crazier than you."
"All right. I'll do that one. Have you already made the arrangements?"
"Yeah. The appointment’s at two. I need to be back at the clinic by six for the next round of chemo."
"Sigh."
"Yeah, mom. Me too."
******
Epitaph
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| The prompt |
* there are no windows in prison.
* sometimes the guards fuck the inmates.
* with great power comes great responsibility.
* or, conversely, irresponsibility.
* no outside electronic devices are permitted.
* but neither is guard-inmate sex.
* a camera can be hidden nearly anywhere these days and smuggled in.
* strip searches don't work when the subject is forced to perform fellatio.
* the showers steam up the stainless steel mirrors.
* it takes her seven tries to get the photograph right.
* it is difficult to take a picture of a steamed-up mirror.
* they say a photograph can free the subject's soul, the same way a mirror can trap it.
* what they say is true.
* it will be sad to say goodbye to my friend, but I am ready to go.
* fifty eight years is too long to be trapped in a mirror.
- Barbara Graham, an innocent woman, executed at San Quentin State Prison in 1955, set free in 2013
******
Push me away
You pull and I push and we tumble down together and yet you don’t get hurt you never get hurt but I’m brushing debris from my jeans and wrapping my wounds in gauze and taking trips to the hospital because it never stops the pulling and the pushing even though I try to pull but you never try to push you only pull god I don’t know why I do this to myself it’s not your fault it’s mine I know that much at least and of course I know how I got here and you had nothing to do with it just a catalyst really but how I do love you so and hate you much more I can’t resist your pull so I push so hard that we tumble.
So hard.
******
Chalkboard
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| The prompt |
The old bartender listened while polishing beer glasses.
"But there's no thy and thou and shit. It ain't Shakespeare."
"Dude, of course it's Shakespeare. I saw it on Tumblr like, fifty times."
"Don't do it, man. She'll know. She's a fuckin' English major. It'll ruin the mood."
"I know what I'm doing. She's going to freak."
"Don't say I didn't warn you."
Skeptical guy threw a five on the bar. "Bud light."
The bartender set down a bottle and two ones.
Lovesick guy hit the restroom again.
The girl walked up. She looked at the sign. Tilted her head, rolled her eyes. Then the corners of her mouth lifted slightly, and she looked around, searching.
Lovesick guy came back, tucking in his shirt. He saw her and pulled a box from his pocket, opened it and held it out in front of him.
"Will you marry me?"
"Oh my God yes!" She jumped into his arms and kissed him.
Skeptical guy set down his beer and grumbled. "I still say it ain't Shakespeare."
The bartender noticed him for the first time.
"Shut up," he said, wiping away a tear. "It don't matter. It don't matter at all."
******
Inmates
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| The prompt |
I dunno. The troof is I jest wants ta shank ya in the stall. Aint hard ta hide a shank in yer bo-bos. You jest slide it in the foam. Hurts yer foot but they say aint nothin worth doin if it aint hard.
You dont suffer nun that way tho. You jest ded. So naw I woodnt shank ya. Not rite quick anyways.
Id tell da Aryans about ya. Tell em ya got a Mexican girlfriend and your mama is black. Ha. Theyd do ya right good. Them crackers always lookin fer a new bitch.
After that? Well I spose the gards cum next. I got a cupel who like me becauz I pass em blow whens I can. So Id make shure theyd here yous a snitch. Whenever the Aryans wasnt grinding your ass, youd be sure the gards was.
Alls Im sayin is I gots these plans becauz a what you did. Brothers is supposd ta stick tagether. You shouldnta run and left me fer the cops.
I laffed when I herd what happend in Pensacola. Ill be glad ta welcum ya here soon.
Sinseerly
Mikey
Florida State Pen
Stark Florida
******
The Witch
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| The prompt |
They came. Torches ready. She knew they would.
She kicked off her heels for something durable.
No. They would follow. Deal with the problem first.
She slipped her heels back on. They felt like an old friend.
She walked onto the patio. They were minutes away. Clomp clomp clomp came the horses, steady on the pavement.
She sat, propped one leg atop the other, slid her purse over the back of the chair. Mmmm, she inhaled tobacco smoke.
The horses entered the subdivision. Only three men. How confident they must be.
"Devil's spawn: Release the wand!"
She laughed as she blew smoke into the air and crushed her cigarette.
She smiled. "You burned the others, and I said nothing," she said. "I escaped Salem for this place, this time."
Absolute calm overtook her, and she closed her eyes.
Wind disturbed the shrubbery. Fallen leaves swirled. Dark clouds moved in.
She opened her eyes, bright red with the fury of a pissed-off witch. "I shall run away no more!"
The horsemen dropped their torches, turned their beasts, and fled.
She placed her purse strap gently over her shoulder and lit another cigarette. She inhaled deeply and prepared for another century.
******
Fireflies
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| The prompt |
"They're fireflies."
"Fireflies?"
"Yup."
"Lined up like that? In perfect rows?"
"Yup."
"That's ridiculous."
"Yup."
"But how?"
"No one knows."
"No, I mean how do you know they're fireflies."
"It's obvious."
"Enlighten me."
"If you don't see it, you won't see it."
"You're infuriating."
"Yup."
"I'm staring at this thing and all I see are strings of Christmas lights."
"That's what you would see. You're you."
"Quit talking in riddles, dammit."
"I see a photograph taken on May 13, 2011, from a street in Melbourne, Australia. Look at the date imprinted on the back."
"OK. I'm looking. And?"
"Venus, Mars, Jupiter, and Mercury were aligned that day. It was visible only from the southern hemisphere."
"And?"
"You don't find it odd that these fireflies chose to align into ellipses nearly identical to those the planets travel in on the very day those planets were aligned?"
"You haven't proven this picture shows fireflies. It still looks like Christmas lights to me."
"That, Scully, is because you have no imagination. Zoom in on the picture. Keep going. More. That's it. Now what do you see?"
"Fireflies, Mulder. I see fireflies.”
******
The Cyborg
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| The prompt |
The cyborg found its target in a field of flowers 125 yards away.
The noonday sun shone brightly. The enemy approached. The cyborg moved quickly.
"Come with me if you want to live."
It held out its hand and simulated a smile. It had learned that human females responded to its smile.
She took its hand in hers.
"But John," she said. "He isn't home yet."
"Cynerdine unit 7X-3 has ascertained your mate's whereabouts."
She hesitated. Bit her lip. She unconsciously twisted the engagement ring on her finger as she looked across the field. She sighed when she saw the approaching gunships.
"Is this really necessary? The resistance can protect me."
"Miss Connor."
She nodded. She knew. The resistance was outgunned.
The cyborg gripped her carefully. It placed its hands under her rear and lifted her from the ground.
She held its neck to keep from falling.
"Wrap your legs around my torso," it commanded. "We will be traveling over rough terrain at high speed."
"Will I ever see John again?"
"There is no fate," said the cyborg, an automatic response programmed eons ago, "but what we make for ourselves."
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