On October 5th on Twitter I saw another Writober prompt from Deliah S. Dawson, a most excellent author, for flash fiction - a bat in someone's hair. I went a little longer than the 5 tweet limit she suggested. Below is the resulting short story:
Cathy and Sharon sat outside by the firepit. They were celebrating the autumnal equinox, giving thanks for all that had come into their lives.
"It's so peaceful out here! Not like in town. Everybody's in your business. So much noise," Cathy said. "I think I may move out here."
Sharon smiled good naturedly. "Life in the country is a lil bit more complicated than leaving the city behind."
Cathy frowned at her. "Like what?"
"Well," Sharon replied, "You have to be more self-relient. There's no curb-side service out here."
"So you don't think I could cut it if I moved out here? You think it's better I just go back to where I belong?" Cath's face had turned a bit red as she spoke. She reached for her drink on the ground by her chair.
Sharon looked at her friend, searching for words. "I only meant that realistically..."
As Sharon spoke a dark shape dove from the sky towards a moth just above where Cathy's head had been. As she straightened up with her drink, its speed prevented it from stopping before slamming into Cathy's frizzy hair. Stunned by the impact, the dark creature squeaked and flapped. Cathy, also stunned by the impact, began to scream, her spilled drink forgotten.
"What the hell is it?!" She shrieked.
Sharon reached for Cathy, "Be still!" she demanded. As gently as she could, she cupped her hands around the wings and body of the small creature, untangling it from the panicked woman's hair. After freeing it, she studied it for a moment before setting it down on the ground between them and the fire.
"Is that a bat?"
"Yes, Cathy, it's a bat. Just be calm. It will recover in a minute and fly off."
They watched it move around a bit. It looked at the two women then lifted itself up and sprang into the air. It flew back into the trees.
Sharon turned to her friend, "Are you alright? You get scratched or anything?"
"No," Cathy sputtered eyes still wide, "it was just in my hair."
"Catch your breath and calm down. The fire's beginning to die down. We can head inside and get you another glass of tea." She picked up Cathy's glass from where it had landed on the ground with her free hand. Her own glass still half full.
"Come on now, Cathy, let's head inside."
Cathy rose to her feet and walked beside her friend towards the house.
"I didn't know there were bats out here. I've never noticed them before."
"Yeah," Sharon said, "there's a lot of wildlife that'll fly around or just wander up to the house. I have to be careful about tying down the trashcan lids."
Cathy looked over at her friend who was smiling and smiled back with a little laugh as they reached the door. "Sharon, I don't know how you do it!"
Tuesday, October 18, 2016
Tuesday, October 4, 2016
Flash Fiction Challenge - Monsters
This morning on Twitter I saw another Writober prompt from Deliah S. Dawson, a most excellent author, for flash fiction - monster in a cemetary. I went a little longer than the 5 tweet limit she suggested. Below is the resulting short story:
He could hear them only two gravestones down. They were crying uncontrollably at the new mound of dirt still covered in wreaths and sprays of flowers that had yet to begin to wilt.
He crept closer to the two women. They didn't hear his approach. They were young, their bodies lean. Their long blonde hair fell over their faces as their bodies rocked with sobs. So much like the one in the grave. Were they family or friends? He hadn't seen them there before.
He reached his hand towards the closest woman, his knife in his other hand. His mind reeled at the thought of her. A fantasy played in his mind. At his touch, she spun around, faster than he could catch hold. Her face was exposed between sheets of white hair. Her mouth was so wide with a wild scream, almost overshadowing the sight of her cold black eyes.
Before he could utter a sound they were upon him. His knife a useless defense against them as they tore him to shreds. Their hair was stained red from the arterial pumping. They ate his heart, letting the blood drip down from their mouths onto their ragged black dresses.
Carefully shifting the wreaths and flowers, they dug down with their hands into the soft earth, dropping the pieces of him into the hole. The spilt blood was shifted with the dirt then covered by wreaths and flowers.
Their meal partaken, vengeance having been met, they departed, slipping silently among the tombstones.
He could hear them only two gravestones down. They were crying uncontrollably at the new mound of dirt still covered in wreaths and sprays of flowers that had yet to begin to wilt.
He crept closer to the two women. They didn't hear his approach. They were young, their bodies lean. Their long blonde hair fell over their faces as their bodies rocked with sobs. So much like the one in the grave. Were they family or friends? He hadn't seen them there before.
He reached his hand towards the closest woman, his knife in his other hand. His mind reeled at the thought of her. A fantasy played in his mind. At his touch, she spun around, faster than he could catch hold. Her face was exposed between sheets of white hair. Her mouth was so wide with a wild scream, almost overshadowing the sight of her cold black eyes.
Before he could utter a sound they were upon him. His knife a useless defense against them as they tore him to shreds. Their hair was stained red from the arterial pumping. They ate his heart, letting the blood drip down from their mouths onto their ragged black dresses.
Carefully shifting the wreaths and flowers, they dug down with their hands into the soft earth, dropping the pieces of him into the hole. The spilt blood was shifted with the dirt then covered by wreaths and flowers.
Their meal partaken, vengeance having been met, they departed, slipping silently among the tombstones.
Monday, October 3, 2016
Flash Fiction Challenge
This morning on Twitter I saw a Writober prompt from Deliah S. Dawson, a most excellent author, for flash fiction. I decided to give it a try but went a little longer than the 5 tweet limit she suggested. Below is the resulting short story:
**********
Morris walked to the edge of the house and looked into the backyard. Leaves had begun to turn yellows, oranges, reds. A few were just beginning to litter the ground. Soon they would need to be raked and bagged.
Movement caught Morris' eye. The squirrel that had been digging in Marjorie's flower pots ran across the lawn with a large bulb in its mouth.
"You little bastard!" exclaimed Morris and started off after it. The squirrel ran straight up the tree and sat flicking its tail on a branch high out of reach. "The second you come out of that tree, you little rat bastard, I will end you!"
Marjorie came into the backyard and noticed the overturned pots. "Oh damn! Was it that squirrel again, Morris?" She asked going over to him. She looked up into the tree. The squirrel looked down at her and chattered again before jumping from its current limb to an ajoining tree.
Morris began to follow it howling angrily, "I'll get you! I'll rip your fucking head off!"
Marjorie picked him up, petting him soothingly, "My brave protector! Let's get you back in the house. You know you're not supposed to be out here. You're declawed." She kissed his head and petted him as she chided him.
Morris settled down. For now he would accept her hospitality and lounge on the comfy couch and eat the delicious treats. He could keep an eye on the squirrel from the windows.
**********
**********
Morris walked to the edge of the house and looked into the backyard. Leaves had begun to turn yellows, oranges, reds. A few were just beginning to litter the ground. Soon they would need to be raked and bagged.
Movement caught Morris' eye. The squirrel that had been digging in Marjorie's flower pots ran across the lawn with a large bulb in its mouth.
"You little bastard!" exclaimed Morris and started off after it. The squirrel ran straight up the tree and sat flicking its tail on a branch high out of reach. "The second you come out of that tree, you little rat bastard, I will end you!"
Marjorie came into the backyard and noticed the overturned pots. "Oh damn! Was it that squirrel again, Morris?" She asked going over to him. She looked up into the tree. The squirrel looked down at her and chattered again before jumping from its current limb to an ajoining tree.
Morris began to follow it howling angrily, "I'll get you! I'll rip your fucking head off!"
Marjorie picked him up, petting him soothingly, "My brave protector! Let's get you back in the house. You know you're not supposed to be out here. You're declawed." She kissed his head and petted him as she chided him.
Morris settled down. For now he would accept her hospitality and lounge on the comfy couch and eat the delicious treats. He could keep an eye on the squirrel from the windows.
**********
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)