Flash Fiction

A Day In a lIfe

Brecklyn "Brick" Meyers remembered how good he felt; it was another Saturday morning at the end of what had been a pretty fine week. The closing the day before on the Pearson house had been a big payday, maybe even enough to edge out the ever- present Shona Macgillvary for Salesman of the Month. The warm water of the shower was pulsing gently on his back as he enjoyed what had become a Saturday morning ritual. Millie always slept late on Saturdays and Brick had the house to himself for the first few hours; to kickback, drink coffee, catch up on all the news and sports and then treat himself to a long hot shower with the obligatory happy ending. At 56 sex with Millie just felt like work, and left them both underwhelmed and unsatisfied, so Saturdays in the shower had become a weekly routine. Brick assumed Millie had worked out her own alternative, but it wasn't something that had ever come up. He mostly remembered that while he rinsed off he was actually thinking; all things considered, it was a pretty good life- enough money, house all paid for, a wife he still loved and a pretty good body for an old guy, and then the twinge of pain in one of his nuts as he brushed his hand over it, and that little jolt of fear adrenaline that instantly curdled the day. It seemed a lot longer than 6 months ago, another time, another life. His reverie was broken as the nurse pulled back the curtain and cheerfully asked, How are we today?

Twilight Stop

Just off I 25 south of Albuquerque there is a diner. Like most businesses that make their money from travelers it doesn't get a lot of repeat customers. No one in their right mind is from here, everyone is heading from somewhere to elsewhere. The idea of stopping for a greasy feast in the middle of the Sonoran desert makes sense. Because of the distance to the horizon, the limitless sky and the crazy heat, people are compelled to check into this small space to find relief from that vast openness. The diner is in the shape of a railway car even though it was built in this place, eons ago, apparently by a retarded visionary. Inside there are a row of booths down the window wall and a row off stools along the counter, both upholstered in faded red vinyl. The tables are gold Formica with chrome edging tarnished to dull pewter. The AC struggles to fight off the heat seeping in through every crack and crevice and mounting a full assault every time the front door swings open . Anything might happen in a place this far off the map. A hearse idles outside the front door it's AC screaming to keep the freight from really stinking, two dusty pickups and a dune buggy round out the parking lot. Inside the cook in full beard and dirty whites makes free with his opinions about the state of the world, safe in the knowledge that nothing as mundane as current events can ever touch this place. The hearse driver stands and eyes the waitress "well doll I gotta jump, don't want The King out there to thaw out . What do I owe ya." Nothin Dracula, free today . What did you think of the soup" ? Hmmm, not bad, needs salt .

Son of Erin

Seamus Patrick O'Leary sat in the green grass and slowly dribbled gold coins over his feet and watched them roll off down the hill . Gold, fucking gold, what was the use of it ? Only those tall idiots thought it had value and sometimes it was fun to fuck with them. Immortal creatures knew the value of gold, it made an excellent paper weight, or, in stout bag, a pretty good boat anchor.
Magic could create all the gold in the world with a word, but not many were curious enough to learn the word and that was the joke . They all wanted the gold which had no value instead of the word which had value beyond measure, but they were idiots.
Seamus was a leprechaun in a modern world. A world devoid of wonder and charm a world of disposable experiences, short attention spans and cheap things . Everything leprechauns cherish, innocence, wonder, pink cheeked milk maids and good whiskey with old friends had fled this world .
He was trapped, immortal, and out of time . No amount of whiskey, or any of the more modern equivalents cocaine, ecstasy, meth, or heroin could dull the hopeless ache of this creature existing beyond the limit of his time. The gold rolled off his buckle shoes down the hill and he cried . Where the tears landed shamrocks sprouted, and he laughed though his tears at the ridiculousness of his existence.

A good thing

It just so happened that one time two people entered a race. They were from different towns and they didn't know each other. It was thanksgiving weekend and a perfect fall day. The crisp air tasted great, ozone and anticipation. Runners and families milled around the start/finish as they do, feeling the energy and excitement of race day. One woman wore a hat in the shape of a turkey. The two runners had both trained hard for the race and were both in the elites. They would start in the first wave, so as not to run into slower competitors on the course. As they each removed their warm up shells, their eyes met for a moment. The first wave moved through the electronic start/finish, and competitors could soon see who was going out quick and who was hanging back.. A wise runner will run their own race, and our runners matched their pace for the first few Ks. As the race wore on, they started to pick off slower runners. They always stayed within sight of the leaders, and gradually began to reel them in. In the final couple of Ks, the lead runners were within thirty yards, the crowds started to thicken and the noise began to build. As they approached the final turn half a K from the finish, they caught the lead runners and moved to pass. One of our runners got tangled up with one of the leaders and both went down hard. Her wrist snapped like the stem of a wine glass. So as one of our runners goes on to win, the other cries beside the course. She couldn't know she was going to fall in love with the guy she tripped with.

Horse Moon ...

The cold black water swirled around the horse's hooves, it felt good after a long day on the trail . The horse was uncomfortable because it didnt recognize any of the smells or sites of the night here , and he could feel the rider's tension through her knees. The animal didnt understand why they were so far from the barn this late at night but had long since stopped trying to turn back . He was tired and not used to carrying two for such a long way but he could sense the urgency from his rider and steeled himself to move on. Amy edged Strider into the water he was a game companion and her heart went out to him as he hesitated a moment and then moved into the current . She hoped that they were not as lost as she feared but there was no option to turn back now. She put on her most confident tone and asked little Lily if she was sure that this was the way. Lily cold and sleepy snuggled back into the woman's arms and nodded her head emphatically she was pretty sure they were on the right path , her mother had walked these woods with her ever since she could remember but seldom this far from the house and never in the middle of the night. After a time Strider"s ears came up and he halted , he smelled smoke, Amy ever sensitive to her horse was instantly on full alert "whats up boy" she whispered, He whinnied a soft reply to let her know that people were ahead. In that moment Lily pointed to a tall forked tree off to the right "that's the way" she said "we are almost there". Amy relaxed and Strider shook his head and. " I just hope your mommy has had the baby already" said Amy

Its the little things

The glare of headlights on the wet road blinds you for a moment as traffic inches forward and the wipers beat the wet snow from your vision. One blade is damaged and leaves a line directly across your vision.
The radio host drones in your ear about deaths in far flung places. This has no effect, as your brain has long been anesthetized to acts of foreign violence. You glance down at the clock and realize that it is going to be close, to get to home, eat, and get to karate.

Traffic moves, the radio drones, another day draws down. Your off ramp looms, speed picks up, you see the delay was an accident just ahead. On the ramp the way opens and the rest of the commute passes in a familiar dream.

Click the remote and the big door rolls up. Nights like tonight make you doubly thankful for an attached garage. The accumulation of cast off and forgotten items in the garage form a rough outline around your car. You think for the umpteenth time that this year is garage sale year.

Wondering for a moment why the lights are all off you remember its Kara's book club night. You are on your own for dinner and karate starts in less than an hour. The rain begins to solidify and you know you will be shoveling snow come morning. The fridge light reveals the usual suspects, last night's cold chicken and way too many green items.

On a night like tonight salad just won't cut it. It occurs to you that if your beloved, but gluten free wife is away you could order pizza, with Netflix, and maybe a fire. You will never be a black belt.

An Island Adventure

Good morning I see you are awake, I am Dr. Morrow, this is my compound. I sincerely hope you enjoyed the luau last night, I must tell you we have some big activities planned for you today. Today we intend to pull you out of your body, discard the meat and digitize your mind. Wow right? You will become pure energy stored in a crystalline matrix, but downloadable into physical form . You will have no more need of sleep or food, or shitting for that matter, a disgusting process. Imagine running like a cheetah or jumping like a flea or jump running like a cheetah flea, all this is possible.You seem a bit pale may I offer you a drink of water? I realize the restraints can be a bit constricting but they are for your protection. The body does not want to die and does tend to dance a little as the process unfolds; we wouldn't want you to fly off the table mid procedure. Where was I? The entire process will take a few hours and you will feel disoriented as your consciousness is extracted. If you see yourself from above this is normal and if other persons of your acquaintance, who may in fact have died, should appear to beckon to you, you must ignore them, as you will be unable to follow them. As for adverse outcomes there are two; the first is death which as a known quantity does not merit further discussion. The other, more dire, is immortality. Should you be the first to succeed you will never again lose consciousness, sleep, or in fact even blink, and certainly never die. It is unknowable what may happen to a human consciousness under these conditions.
Any questions?
Shit, did you say Dr. Moreau?