Tag: flash fiction

Many Questions

“Should those plants be touching?”

“What?”

“Should those two plants be touching each other?”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“No! Should they be touching? Their leaves are mingling.”

“ Why are you concerned about that?”

“It doesn’t seem right. Is it healthy?”

“Are you?”

“What do you mean?”

“It seems bizarre to be concerned about the mingling of leaves. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I just wondered if its okay for those leaves to mingle.”

<silence>

“Why are you so dismissive of my concerns?”

“Fine. Sorry.  It is okay for those plants to touch. Better?”

 

“Yes, thank you . . . what about those two plants?”

 

Image by Robin Anderson

Power Down

Tonight I write by candlelight.  A scheduled outage they said.

No light, no heat, no electronic hum but in the shadows story pours from my pen.  Stream of consciousness, words flow like water or wine or my own blood.

Now I know I should have contrived a blackout long ago.

Image by Robin Anderson

Power Down originally published at fiftywordstories.com on 

The Octopus and the Diver

 

She hid in the depths of the sea, only emerging from her den of shells after he visited her many times, proving his trustworthiness. Dropping camouflage for her natural red, she aimed one eye at his two. Looking deep into his single heart, she revealed a taste of her three.

Becky Kjelstrom

art by Zo Razafindramamba at unsplash

Quiet Like Sunday

Listen.

Quiet like Sunday on the first of Spring.  No traffic, no voices, no airplanes.  Only birdsong or a dog barking.

Listen.

Humanity withdraws and the world settles into silence.  People in houses gaze through closed windows.  They can hear sunlight drip off buildings and roar down empty streets.

Listen.

Image by Harrison Fulop

This story also appears at fiftywordstories.com 

FERAL

She had always shared her life with cats and dogs.  Still, the transformation was a shock.  First came the growth of an undercoat on her scalp.  Next, her fingernails hardened and curved.  When her arms and legs grew excessively hairy, she covered them.  When she could no longer grasp her coffee mug, she dashed it against the kitchen wall.  After several decades of vegetarianism, she craved, then ate, meat. Raw.

On the last morning, she stripped off her nightgown, running out the back door on all fours.  She vaulted the fence.  The pets would have to fend for themselves.

Embellishment for HaikuEmbellishment for Haiku

Image by Martin Arusala via Unsplash.com

With Feathers

Black-capped chickadee

“Hope” is the thing with feathers.   Emily Dickinson

In the kitchen on a warm afternoon, the breeze blowing in an open door.  An unexpected movement near the window.  That’s not right.

A flutter and chirp.  Distress.   Small bird inside the house.

The family dog sleeps in the next room so I rise quietly.  A black-capped chickadee stares up at me from the sill.  Crooning in the face of terror, I try to catch it.  Frantic fluttering and shed feathers.   Still not right.

Softly, I open two windows, stand back and hope.

YES!  It flies out into its world.  That is right.

Image by Brandon @greener_30 via Unsplash.com

Harbingers

We should have known.  All the signs were there.  The slow drift of feathers across the yard. The crow in the leafless tree, feasting upon the body of a songbird.  The relentless cold, even as the calendar advanced to days when the soft edge of spring should have cut into winter.

We ignored the dire portents.

Then a phone call.

Now it seems so odd to take out the garbage, bring in the mail, walk the dog, all while knowing you are not here.

Image by Charles Tyler via Unsplash.com

My Immune System

“What?  What is that?  Oh. My. God!  What did you let in?”

“It’s no big deal.  I just saw my doctor, it was time.”

“Are you kidding me?  It’s huge, it’s going to foul everything.  I’ll be cleaning up this mess for a week!”

“Calm down.  Why do you always make such a big deal–“

“Calm down!  Big deal!  How dare you.”

“Stop.  You’re giving me a headache.”

“You’re supposed to be on my side, you asshole!  You’re going to have more than a headache.”

“Why are you being so hysterical?”

“I’ve had it with you!  Five years ago it was shingles!  Now this!”

“Uhhhh.  I feel sick . . .”

“You bet you do.  And it’s gonna get worse.  Pneumonia vaccine my ass.  I’ll show you pneumonia.”

Image by Hannah Fulop

PS.  This is an imagined conversation between myself and my immune system.  It is not an anti-vaccination manifesto.  GET VACCINATED.  Even if your immune system is a wuss.  RA