Flash Fiction Friday – Rise and Fall

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I watch the sunrise over the ocean like a wild animal creeping out of a forest den.  It will be full daylight soon and the pain will come.  Sure, I could run back inside and hide in the darkness of the cave. However, that would prolong the inevitable and I want to see the sun.

Last night got so out of control.  How could I let Lily go with the others? I could smell their abhorrent kindness. The way Kaud, the leader, stroked the small of her back as they walked into the cave drove me mad.

He knew it drove me mad and he knew I would do something foolish. What a foolish idea, charging at Kaud!

I heard Lily shout, “I never loved you, Vol.”

As Kaud broke my neck, Lily broke my heart.

Now, I stare at the sun, so blinding and pristine, as I whither to a pile of forgotten ashes.

Friday Flash Fiction ~ Goodbye

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Carmine spread the fuzzy, orange blanket out so pristine, he was sure he could bounce a nickel off it.
Everything had to be perfect.
He walked gingerly over to the bedroom window to peek outside to the street. The sun was shining bright, just as the weather man had assured him last night it would.
His eyes darted over the room.  The framed photos of flower gardens, the knick-knacks of dolphins and starfish on the black iron shelf in the corner by the door.
He looked at the dresser with the brass colored tray atop the white doily his mother had made when she was eighteen.  He had heard that story a hundred times. If only he could hear it once more.
The dust fell away as he slid his fingers down the edge of the dresser toward the bottle of Wind Song just to the edge of the tray.  His hand stopped just short of it.
“Why, Ma?” Carmine whimpered as he looked to the closet where her favorite red sweater hung.
He stood silent as he waited to hear her voice one more time.  Just once more.
There was no answer, no chirping bird, nothing.
Carmine shrugged and walked out of the room.
It was time to go talk to the detectives again.

Friday Flash Fiction – Sharon and the Scoont

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Sharon sat at the dark, muddy lake with her toes just to the edge of the water.  She had been down to the lake for the last four nights hoping to see the Scoont that everyone else in her family had seen.  The stars twinkled like glitter in the night sky as the moon tucked in and out of the scattered clouds.  She said all the verses her family had told her to say; even said the last one twice:

Scoont of the sky of the night
The moon ever so bright
Scoont of darkness I plea
Wash the light over me

She giggled after the last line.  She always did.  Jake, her best friend, had told her the chant before he left for California five days prior.  He told her if the conditions were right, and she said the chant the correct number of times, the Scoont would come out of the water and kiss the tips of her toes.
She eyeballed the sky as she repositioned her toes exactly at the edge, whispering the chant as her eyes searched the sky for the biggest star.
A twig snapped in the distance and the darkness across the lake seemed to seep into the muddy water, stretching across the dollops of scum almost to the shore.
Trepidation seeped into Sharon’s mind as she pondered her timing.  She thought back to what Jake had said about character.  When calling the Scoont out, complete trust had to be shown.  One shred of doubt and the Scoont would turn vicious.
Another twig snapped and she felt someone there with her.  She couldn’t figure it out, but she knew she wasn’t alone.  She saw lights in the distance.  Were they fireflies? Stars? Or were they eyeballs being kissed by moonbeams?
She gulped hard as she tried to speak but all that came out was a whimper.
“Positive, Sharon.  Positive,” she whispered to herself as a dark cloud swallowed the moon leaving Sharon alone with the eyes.  Sharon knew they were eyes now.  Her fear unleashed the wrong Scoont.  Tears streamed into her mouth as she noticed the eyes were gone.  Hot breath that smelled of rotting meat beat on the back of her neck.
Fear had won.

Friday Flash Fiction – Vampeeble… The Priceless Weeble

“Stupid, stupid,” I said as I stood on the curb in rain-soaked clothes. I had to get to the Weeble Extravaganza before that mean old bitty Rachie did.  I couldn’t let her get the best Weeble of all!  I know she wanted to get that special vampire Weeble that we both had our hearts on.  No way!  That Vampeeble is mine!  There is a tale that goes with the Vampeeble.  Whoever possesses the rare Weeble, has unlimited power and wealth.  Apparently, I can make anyone do anything if I possess Vampeeble!

Weebles wobble but they don’t fall down!

I was finally going to beat Rachie at her own silly game.  Ever since we were little girls she always one upped me.  When I got my special blue dress with the two rows of ruffles on it for the sixth grade dance, she got a blue dress with four ruffles.  When I started dating Ricky, she told him lies about me and then dated him! When I got my first car, a little 1972 yellow Beetle Bug, she got a 1974 Beetle Bug, also yellow but with a big daisy painted on the trunk.

Well, my yellow Beetle died just yesterday and her Beetle is still very much alive.  At this moment, I am on the corner of her street waiting for her to come out her door. As soon as she does I am going to chat her up then hit her over the head and steal her Beetle! I know it sounds crazy, but the Vampeeble is very important to me.

“Hey, Renee,” a voice said from behind me. It was Rachie!  What? I had to look natural.

I turned and waved, “Hey, Rachie, what’s up?” Man, the rain is really coming down now.

“I didn’t see you at the Weeble Extravaganza last week.  It’s too bad, you know?  They had two Vampeebles.  Two! I could hardly stand it.  They were only fifty dollars each.  I got them both and -” she was pulling something out of her pocket.

Did she say, last week? “You greedy wench!” I screamed.  I saw the bus coming out of the corner of my eye.  I planned it perfectly.  I watched her smile beam on her face as she pulled two Vampeebles out of her pocket. She held them out, taunting me with her dumb smile.

I pushed her in front of the bus as it careened down the street. WHACK! The bus smacked her right off her feet and the Weebles flew into the air.  I had to get the Weebles!  I stretched my arms out as far as they would go.  As if by fate, the Weebles landed right in my hands! Oh happy joy.

I turned to run down the street, and was met with a second bus.  I forgot about the second bus! “Stupid, stupid,” I shouted as the Weebles dropped out of my hand and down the sewage drain in the street.

There we lay, two gals in the middle of the street.  We were Vampeeble-less and I had a broken leg.  I flipped over and began to crawl toward the sewer.  Tears streamed my face as pain shot up my body.  I had to have the Vampeebles.

Flash Fiction Friday – Coming to Get You

Today I walked down the street, making it a point to look each stranger I passed directly in his or her eyeball.  Most people cannot look at me long because they know I am the Truth Seeker.  I seek the truth in random passersby and after making my determination of their worthiness, I pass along the information to my boss.

Now, my boss is an interesting character in that he seems to let the good suffer incredibly long while the bad seem to suffer hardly at all.

This is where I come into the picture.  I am the one who gets things done here in this (what some would call God Forsaken) world. I am the one that takes the best of the best from this Earth and I put them in a place where evil will no longer come to them.

See, my boss has it all sorted out for all the beings on this planet and he has made me his right-hand person through all of it.

Oh, here comes one now.  I am staring into her ice blue eyeball as she approaches me.  She pretends she does not see me, but I know she does.  I am the Truth Seeker!

Ok, she passed me with a scowl.  Almost everyone that passes me scowls at me when they see me leering into their eyeballs like some creepy pirate. I laugh just loud enough to confuse them when I get looks like that.

Alright, I got her profile.

She is a grump, insecure and poor at time management.  However, she is an inherently good person that has had a rough life, so I will just have to make something happen in her life that impacts her and gets her thinking on a more “constructive” level if you catch my drift.

Ooh, here comes a good one.  This guy in his BMW just cursed out some poor old lady! He’ll never catch on, but still, I like to toy with the self-righteous.  You would be surprised how many people do not catch on to these little obstructions I put into their path.  People seem to think in terms of the self too often and when something profound in their life takes place, they say things like “shit happens” or “it is what it is.”

Uh, no. Nothing just happens, people!  Gosh, it annoys me so much that these humans think it is all about them and that all the things that happen in their life is on an “it is what it is” basis!

Oh, I am sorry.  I forgot to introduce myself!  Most people call me Karma, some call me Fate, others don’t give me a name.  I am always watching and I will get you when you least expect it. You can call me whatever you like, you’ll know me when you meet me.

Flash Fiction Friday – Slug Dedication

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“I am so sorry about your father, Misha,” Gabriel said as he placed a ladder up against the house.  The sky was bright, a wonderful day to help in the garden.

Misha plopped her butt on the damp earth and looked up.  “It’s okay, Gabe.  I’m not terribly upset.”

Gabriel dug the feet of the ladder into the ground and looked down at Misha.  “How could you say that?  Your father loved you.”

Misha laughed raucously. “He always said he wanted me to dedicate something to him.  One of my poems that he scoffed at maybe, I thought.”

Gabriel watched her silently as she did a fine job of controlling the tears.

“But I discovered something better,” she whispered as she pulled back a rotting piece of wood from the garden floor. “Look,” Misha said gesturing to a family of slugs hiding beneath.

Gabriel jumped back.  “Eww,” he said and crinkled his nose.  “Are you going to kill them with salt?”

Misha put her finger to her chin and glanced up to the sky.  “I thought about that.  Sad, you know, slugs get such a bad rap.  They are certainly more useful than my father ever was.”

Misha stood up and brushed the dirt off her butt.

Gabriel squatted to get a good look at one of the slugs, gently poking one with his finger.

Misha watched him and grabbed his arm.

“Don’t touch the slugs, Gabriel.”

Flash Fiction Friday – Reflection

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“I saw you in the window today, you looked good,” Reflection said.
“Really?  I thought I looked like hell myself.”
“Oh, come on, you’re being too hard on yourself,” Reflection said.
“I speak the truth.  I am ugly and I am stupid.  There is no getting around it.  I mean, why else would Daddy leave?” I said.
“Daddy left because he is a loser.  Daddy doesn’t know his ass from a hole in the ground.  He’s a freaking crackhead,” Reflection was starting to piss me off.
“True.  But still.  All my friends have their dads and they are all pretty.”
“You really need to stop this.  You’re being ridiculous. Do you talk like this to other people?  Like, do you tell other people they are ugly or stupid or lazy?” Reflection had a point.
“No.  I am nice to everyone but me.  I laugh at everyone’s jokes.  I tell other people how great they are or how pretty they look.  Sometimes people say nice things to me.”
“I know.  And what do you say?” Reflection was getting angry.
“I brush it off.  I deflect it.  I make excuses.  I feel like I don’t deserve nice stuff, you know?  I don’t deserve compliments or praise.  I’m so dumb.”
“Stop.  Just stop.  Just for today I want you to tell me one nice thing.  Maybe your eyes. You have very pretty eyes.  They have little green flecks in them. Did you know that?”
“Yes.  I did know that.  My eyes are pretty, aren’t they?”
“Be nice to yourself today.  Just for today,” Reflection said.  What else could I do?  I owed it to Reflection.
I owed it to myself to be as nice to me as I was to everyone else. Reflection showed me how pretty I was, how great my hair looked or my happy eyes and I just tore Reflection down.  Every day I looked at Reflection and said nasty mean things.  I would never talk to anyone else like that. How could I talk to Reflection like that when Reflection was a piece of me?
I think if I am nicer to Reflection, I will be nicer to myself.

Yeah, that sounds like a good start.

Flash Fiction Friday – Bullet

Special Bullet

So I sat in a box for the last, oh, I don’t know, seven years?  Just sat there on a shelf with dozens of other boxes on other shelves with the others and I am finally free.
I don’t know who opened the box and put me in the chamber of freedom, but his fingers were fat like crinkled sausages and they smelled like shit. I guess some uprights never wash their hands.
“There you go my pet,” the upright says. “You are such a special little bullet. You were born to do great things.  You are going to change history, my pet.”
The upright talks a lot.
It’s freaking dark in here.  I have waited my entire life to get out of that damn box. I am a special bullet.  I don’t mingle with common bullets.
Seven years I have waited for this.  I don’t know what to expect. I just hear the voice.  I guess the voice thinks I can’t understand, but I can. I hear it talk about me.  It talks about my velocity, my speed and my distance.
It’s weird, you know? I don’t know what any of it means.
I can hear the upright speak as I sit here waiting for my moment of glory. He told me I was going to change history.  I don’t know what that means really…  but it sounds important.
Before the upright put me in here, it held me close to where the voice comes out.  It told me all these things.
“You’re so beautiful,” it says.
“You are the most special bullet ever, little bullet. You are going to make poppa so proud,” the voice cries.
I wanted to concur or validate the voices wishes. But what the hell, I’m just a bullet after all. A special bullet it tells me. But I don’t know what the means.  I don’t even know what my purpose is.
“Oh, special bullet. Be straight and true with your aim, young one.  Guide your soul into the heart of that bastard and save us all,” the voice screams.
The upright put me in something cold and long.  It’s dark in here.
Wait.  I just heard a loud bang and now I am zooming through the air toward another upright.  I don’t understand any of this.
Now I am in something hot, dark and wet. This is so odd.  I was happy in my box with the others.  I don’t feel so special anymore. Where is the voice?
I hear other voices now.  They are making high-pitched noises.  They are screaming, “He’s shot! He’s shot!”
My shell is gone.  I am now a flat piece of metal.
I still don’t feel special.

Friday Flash Fiction – The Coffee Room

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I could smell it.  Its perverse odor invaded my nostrils as I sat on the overstuffed, taupe chair that reminded me of over-creamed coffee.

“Bastards,” I mumbled.  The fabric color on the chair was no accident.  Of this, I was sure.  I pretended to ignore the odor. My brow beaded with sweat as I ogled the gurgling contraption on the counter in the corner.  I eyeballed the powdered creamer and the foam cups.  Maybe it would not hurt if I had one cup.

“No,” I said aloud.

A woman with too much eye make-up on snapped her head up to glare at me.  “Excuse me?” she asked in an annoyed tone as she shifted in her dark brown chair.

Go to hell, bitch. And take your laughable eye shadow with you, I thought.

“Sorry, I was talking to myself,” I answered.

“Oh,” she cracked her gum.  “Why are you here?” She kept staring at me.

“Not much of a talker, huh? I get it.  I never was either, but Dr. Pantomime said I need to be more expressive,” she said and motioned to her face.

“I don’t think that’s what he meant, but okay,” I flubbed as the coffee became pungent.  Why would they put fucking coffee in here?  Did they not know why I was here? Did they not get the fucking memo?

“Excuse me, miss?” I said to the receptionist behind the desk. She looked up and slid the glass back.

“Yes?”

“Is there caffeine in that coffee?” I asked.

“I don’t know, sir.  You’ll have to figure it out for yourself.”

The powered creamer fell silently into the six-ounce abyss of coffee that swirled in the foam cup.  I had a fifty-fifty shot. If it was decaf, I was okay.  If not, the clown woman and glass woman would have a free ticket to hell.

“Ready?” I shouted.  The man who just entered the waiting room looked confused.  I chugged the coffee as it caressed my throat, burning on the way down.  My head raced.  My heart palpitated.

I smiled as the beads of sweat dripped into my eyes. “You’re all screwed.”

Vengeful Noodles – Friday Flash Fiction

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Noodles lived in a decent part of the city.  His wife left him five years ago for a circus clown named Rickety Randy the Rolling Roundhouse.  Noodles couldn’t figure it out.  The ostentatious Rickety.  He would purposely wear a purple beep nose just to show everyone else up at the circus with their plain red noses.  Oh, and that flower that squirted Chardonnay.  What was he thinking?  Frigging loser.  Everyone knew he squirted the flower wine into his own mouth because he was such a drunken lush.  He would beep his nose and squirt the flower at least every twenty-seven seconds.  The clown of clowns was falling down drunk in an hour. Turned out he had a hose to a plastic pack riding his back filled with his juice.

A freaking drunk clown!  Noodles was mortified.  Noodles swore revenge on Randy, but never got the chance.  Rickety Randy had been at a main gig at a two ring circus in Burgboro. His only job was to arm/paw wrestle Turdster the Tiger while simultaneously playing catch with a six hundred pound bear named Scuttles.  Turned out Scuttles and Turdster had a deep-seated hatred for each other and amidst the paw fight between the two, Rickety slipped on Tiger drool and broke his neck.  Turdster and Scuttles took turns eating Rickety much to the absolute horror of the crowd.

To this day Noodles sends his ex-wife a subscription to Circus Animals Weekly each year.

*I am sitting in my office on my lunch at the moment.  Where did the idea for a drunken clown love trio come from?  I couldn’t tell you.  Thank heavens I use writing to get these morbid ideas out!*

HAPPY FRIDAY!