Flash Fiction
Flash fiction is a genre growing in popularity. Generally, these ultra short stories are between 500 - 2000 words, although definitions vary. They should contain all the elements of a longer tale; character development, plot, theme, and a strong ending. I have found writing them to be a delightful exercise in succinctness, something which I am typically challenged by. When creating flash fiction, the question becomes how far you can push the envelope. How much story can you cram into just a few words without sacrificing its soul? I have become a regular competitor in a 24 hour writing contest offered through www.writersweekly.com, in which you are given a prompt, then must complete a short piece within 24 hours. Two of my stories received honorable mentions, and you will find them below, in their entirety.
Hazardous Conditions - 2018 - 875 Words
“Dad?” Anne’s voice rose from the phone, “Where are you?”
Raymond watched the snowflakes freeze to his windshield for a moment before replying, “Honey, I’m fine. I just went out. The old gazelle…”
“Impala...” She corrected.
“Impala… Needed a drive. She needed to warm up. I just went for a drive.” Once again, he wondered why he’d agreed to a cellphone; why he’d let Anne set it up to flash her picture when she called, so he wouldn’t ‘forget her.’ Seeing it always guilted him into answering.
“Okay.” She replied, using the tone reserved for her children and, lately, her father. “So. You’re on a drive.” Anne’s voice made it perfectly clear that going for a drive in the snow made no sense, particularly with her 89 year old father at the wheel.
“To where, Dad? I just want to know that. Like you and Mom asking whose house I was at for a party, right? I need to know.”
The Impala glided effortlessly across the black ice as it took the corner, eerily maintaining its steady path. It almost drove itself. It really had to, Raymond chuckled, the visibility was too low for him to do it. Taking his hands off the wheel, he decided to see where the old girl would go with no direction. The car slid, dim headlights revealing a little boy on the snowbank by the side of the road. He sat, quietly shivering in his tattered clothes as if resigned to his fate. Raymond grabbed the wheel and hit the brakes. Swerving on screeching tires, he lost sight of the child as the Impala came to a stop in the ditch.
“Daddy?”
“Just a dream.” He replied. His mind flashed back to therapy, years of it starting in the 50’s. People with letters after their names telling him about PTSD before medicating him into oblivion to help his healing.
“Just a dream.” Hundreds of soldiers suffered from this. He knew that. They were haunted by visions of those they could not save. “Would not save,” he corrected, words puffing out in the cold.
“Where are you?” Anne’s voice pleaded, “Where?”
“I am…” There was no road sign. There hadn’t been for miles. There was only falling snow, the bone chilling cold and, somewhere nearby, a little boy who was all alone. “I’m okay, Annie Girl… I just… don’t know. I don’t know where. But there’s this boy here…”
“A boy?”
“Yeah. I have to see if he’s okay, Hon. I have to.” He sat frozen, remembering the self-righteous, self-proclaimed doctor who’d informed him that he shouldn’t feel guilt. That he couldn’t save everyone. That the Battle of the Bulge had changed history, he’d done his part, it was in the past.
“Blah blah blah”
“What?” Anne whispered.
“I said BLAH BLAH BLAH!” He yelled, then lowered his voice as she began to cry, “Anne, there’s a little boy here. Freezing. Helping him is more important than your worries!”
“Dad!” She sobbed, “I know he seems to be there. I do. But you can’t just… Why did you leave your home, Dad? Why didn’t you tell anyone?!”
“It’s a man’s duty, Anne. Same as I told your Mom, God rest her soul. I have to protect. This. Boy.” He sighed, “Annie, I’ll… I’ll let you know when I have him.
“Dad, don’t! Please? You’re not well! You can’t just…”
Raymond’s icy fingers hit END. The boy was likely a vision. He knew that much. This was not Finland, and this couldn’t be the kid he’d found frozen there almost 70 years ago. Or could it? When you live enough years, you learn that strange things do happen. Moments line up. There is coincidence and fate. As the phone rang again, Raymond looked at his daughter’s flashing picture, touching her smiling face before opening the door to brave the elements.
“Hello?” He yelled. “Hello?”
A small whimper was his only answer.
Walking to where he’d seen the child, he kept calling until the whimper came again. Following the sound, he finally found its source. He hunkered down to wrap his warmth around the cold little body, saying, “I’ve got you, kiddo. I’ve got you.”
The boy nestled closer. “Cold.” He whispered. “I’m so cold.”
“I know. Just cuddle in, Little Man. I’ve got you. Help is on the way.”
As the little body snuggled in even closer Raymond was engulfed in that special child smell. A feeling of warmth spread to the marrow of his bones.
“How do you know help is coming?” The boy asked in a tremulous voice.
“I have a cell phone.” Raymond replied. “And dementia. They track me.”
“What’s dementia?”
“It’s when your memories become real again. When you get a second chance to make things right.”
With the boy safely cocooned in the heat of his body, Raymond realized he didn’t care what the paramedics found when they arrived. His dead body around a warm little boy was as good as his frozen living one wrapped around nothing. This was not war. This time he got to choose. As cold turned to warm drowsiness and then to sleep, Raymond savored that little boy smell and drifted off to the sound of sirens approaching in the distance.
Raymond watched the snowflakes freeze to his windshield for a moment before replying, “Honey, I’m fine. I just went out. The old gazelle…”
“Impala...” She corrected.
“Impala… Needed a drive. She needed to warm up. I just went for a drive.” Once again, he wondered why he’d agreed to a cellphone; why he’d let Anne set it up to flash her picture when she called, so he wouldn’t ‘forget her.’ Seeing it always guilted him into answering.
“Okay.” She replied, using the tone reserved for her children and, lately, her father. “So. You’re on a drive.” Anne’s voice made it perfectly clear that going for a drive in the snow made no sense, particularly with her 89 year old father at the wheel.
“To where, Dad? I just want to know that. Like you and Mom asking whose house I was at for a party, right? I need to know.”
The Impala glided effortlessly across the black ice as it took the corner, eerily maintaining its steady path. It almost drove itself. It really had to, Raymond chuckled, the visibility was too low for him to do it. Taking his hands off the wheel, he decided to see where the old girl would go with no direction. The car slid, dim headlights revealing a little boy on the snowbank by the side of the road. He sat, quietly shivering in his tattered clothes as if resigned to his fate. Raymond grabbed the wheel and hit the brakes. Swerving on screeching tires, he lost sight of the child as the Impala came to a stop in the ditch.
“Daddy?”
“Just a dream.” He replied. His mind flashed back to therapy, years of it starting in the 50’s. People with letters after their names telling him about PTSD before medicating him into oblivion to help his healing.
“Just a dream.” Hundreds of soldiers suffered from this. He knew that. They were haunted by visions of those they could not save. “Would not save,” he corrected, words puffing out in the cold.
“Where are you?” Anne’s voice pleaded, “Where?”
“I am…” There was no road sign. There hadn’t been for miles. There was only falling snow, the bone chilling cold and, somewhere nearby, a little boy who was all alone. “I’m okay, Annie Girl… I just… don’t know. I don’t know where. But there’s this boy here…”
“A boy?”
“Yeah. I have to see if he’s okay, Hon. I have to.” He sat frozen, remembering the self-righteous, self-proclaimed doctor who’d informed him that he shouldn’t feel guilt. That he couldn’t save everyone. That the Battle of the Bulge had changed history, he’d done his part, it was in the past.
“Blah blah blah”
“What?” Anne whispered.
“I said BLAH BLAH BLAH!” He yelled, then lowered his voice as she began to cry, “Anne, there’s a little boy here. Freezing. Helping him is more important than your worries!”
“Dad!” She sobbed, “I know he seems to be there. I do. But you can’t just… Why did you leave your home, Dad? Why didn’t you tell anyone?!”
“It’s a man’s duty, Anne. Same as I told your Mom, God rest her soul. I have to protect. This. Boy.” He sighed, “Annie, I’ll… I’ll let you know when I have him.
“Dad, don’t! Please? You’re not well! You can’t just…”
Raymond’s icy fingers hit END. The boy was likely a vision. He knew that much. This was not Finland, and this couldn’t be the kid he’d found frozen there almost 70 years ago. Or could it? When you live enough years, you learn that strange things do happen. Moments line up. There is coincidence and fate. As the phone rang again, Raymond looked at his daughter’s flashing picture, touching her smiling face before opening the door to brave the elements.
“Hello?” He yelled. “Hello?”
A small whimper was his only answer.
Walking to where he’d seen the child, he kept calling until the whimper came again. Following the sound, he finally found its source. He hunkered down to wrap his warmth around the cold little body, saying, “I’ve got you, kiddo. I’ve got you.”
The boy nestled closer. “Cold.” He whispered. “I’m so cold.”
“I know. Just cuddle in, Little Man. I’ve got you. Help is on the way.”
As the little body snuggled in even closer Raymond was engulfed in that special child smell. A feeling of warmth spread to the marrow of his bones.
“How do you know help is coming?” The boy asked in a tremulous voice.
“I have a cell phone.” Raymond replied. “And dementia. They track me.”
“What’s dementia?”
“It’s when your memories become real again. When you get a second chance to make things right.”
With the boy safely cocooned in the heat of his body, Raymond realized he didn’t care what the paramedics found when they arrived. His dead body around a warm little boy was as good as his frozen living one wrapped around nothing. This was not war. This time he got to choose. As cold turned to warm drowsiness and then to sleep, Raymond savored that little boy smell and drifted off to the sound of sirens approaching in the distance.
Protocol of the Forgotten - 2017 - 925 Words
“Place your hand on the screen and your eye to the scanner.”
Setting down her valise, Taryn sighed and did as she was instructed. After 50 years, you’d think these machines would have better voices; softer, kinder, more human. If anything, they’d become worse, managing to sound rude despite being incapable of rudeness.
“Hold position.”
The light flashed and she felt her scalp itch as the scanner accessed her implant. Her identity appeared on the screen and she verified it was correct.
“Thank you for your compliance. Next.”
Taryn picked up her bag and got in line to board. Turning, she looked back at her town of Barrington. The clouds loomed closer than before, creeping insidiously across the fields, slowly swallowing the horizon. Soon, the roiling mass of blue and gray would reach the town and all would be lost.
Taking a deep breath, she walked onto the transport. Most of the seats were full, but a few window seats were left. No one wanted to see what they were leaving behind. Taryn didn’t either, but as she sat down and fastened her harness, her gaze was drawn to the crowd waiting outside. She was surprised by how calm she felt. All of these people would never make it out. There were too few seats and no time for another transport. She should feel horrified, watching them standing there, knowing they would be dead in a matter of hours. But she did not. All she felt was a vague disquiet. Taryn flashed back to memories of the last evacuation and its horrible consequences. People had died. For a moment, she remembered the panic; rushing through crowds, shoving people aside, someone falling and being trampled. But who? He had been important to her. She could see his face. But as she tried to remember, he simply faded away. Calm returned as the memory became distant, like something she’d read long ago.
It was definitely better this time. There was no violence or panic. Everyone stood placidly in the station, waiting. They had to know that death was coming in those clouds. The volcano had erupted this morning, collapsing its southern slope and creating the pyroclastic flow now visible on the horizon. Soon they would be buried with the town under a sea of lava and ash. Yet they stood quietly, waiting for their fate.
The train rumbled with current to begin its jump.
Taryn checked her harness, then paused. The hairs stood up on the back of her neck. She had forgotten something. There was something missing. Something important.
She tore open her valise. It was all there; her phone, charger, computer, input device, even clean underwear. She couldn’t remember packing. The evacuation signal had come through her implant, then she’d arrived at the station with bag in hand. The rest was a mystery. She didn’t really need her things, anyway. What she needed was in her head. A scan would see her settled in wherever she ended up.
She tried to relax, but the feeling persisted. The ship’s rumble turned into a steady hum. “Prepare for departure.”
In a blinding flash of light, the ship jumped, acceleration pushing her back. The station disappeared, the view becoming a smear of color before fading to darkness.
The woman next to her leaned over with a hesitant smile. “Excuse me. I noticed you checking your bag. Did you get everything?”
“Oh, yeah, I did.” Taryn replied. “I just have this feeling. Like I forgot something… I’m sure it’s nothing. I mean, we made it out, right?”
“That’s the important thing.” She agreed, nodding. “But I did the same thing, myself. I can’t shake that feeling.” Gesturing to the other passengers, she whispered. “And they’re so quiet. Too quiet. It’s not like I want everybody carrying on, but it feels...”
“Wrong. I know. The people back at the station…” Taryn trailed off, remembering.
“Well, we are here, now, right? That’s good…”
“Yeah, it is.” Only it didn’t feel good. Not bad, either. But there was no sense of relief for having made it. Suddenly, Taryn realized she had no idea where they were going. “Listen, this is so weird, but do you know where we being evacuated to? I just…”
“Attention.” The voice cut her off. “For your safety, the restraints will remain in place for the duration of the flight. In accordance with regulation 23678.4, the emergency evacuation system protocol will be ending momentarily. You may experience disorientation, nausea or intense emotions until your implant adjusts. We apologize for the inconvenience. Upon arrival, you will be assigned a counselor for processing.”
Taryn felt her harness lock with a click.
“The protocol will end in 3 – 2 – 1.”
The passengers suddenly erupted in screams and wails. A wave of nausea hit Taryn as images swept through her brain. Memories. Her wedding day. Justin. Giving birth. Her daughter. Her Cara…
“Cara!” Taryn screamed. She remembered leaving this morning with her valise, seeing her daughter tucked safely in her crib. Too young for an implant, there was no way her Cara could come with her on this journey. Taryn walked out the door and forgot her baby the moment she shut the door. Horror and guilt clawed through her. She struggled against her restraints, twisting and clawing like everyone else as they remembered the lives they had left behind. Then, all at once, silence fell. Their implants flooded the passengers with hormones, and calm settled over them like a warm blanket.
“Thank you for your cooperation.”
Setting down her valise, Taryn sighed and did as she was instructed. After 50 years, you’d think these machines would have better voices; softer, kinder, more human. If anything, they’d become worse, managing to sound rude despite being incapable of rudeness.
“Hold position.”
The light flashed and she felt her scalp itch as the scanner accessed her implant. Her identity appeared on the screen and she verified it was correct.
“Thank you for your compliance. Next.”
Taryn picked up her bag and got in line to board. Turning, she looked back at her town of Barrington. The clouds loomed closer than before, creeping insidiously across the fields, slowly swallowing the horizon. Soon, the roiling mass of blue and gray would reach the town and all would be lost.
Taking a deep breath, she walked onto the transport. Most of the seats were full, but a few window seats were left. No one wanted to see what they were leaving behind. Taryn didn’t either, but as she sat down and fastened her harness, her gaze was drawn to the crowd waiting outside. She was surprised by how calm she felt. All of these people would never make it out. There were too few seats and no time for another transport. She should feel horrified, watching them standing there, knowing they would be dead in a matter of hours. But she did not. All she felt was a vague disquiet. Taryn flashed back to memories of the last evacuation and its horrible consequences. People had died. For a moment, she remembered the panic; rushing through crowds, shoving people aside, someone falling and being trampled. But who? He had been important to her. She could see his face. But as she tried to remember, he simply faded away. Calm returned as the memory became distant, like something she’d read long ago.
It was definitely better this time. There was no violence or panic. Everyone stood placidly in the station, waiting. They had to know that death was coming in those clouds. The volcano had erupted this morning, collapsing its southern slope and creating the pyroclastic flow now visible on the horizon. Soon they would be buried with the town under a sea of lava and ash. Yet they stood quietly, waiting for their fate.
The train rumbled with current to begin its jump.
Taryn checked her harness, then paused. The hairs stood up on the back of her neck. She had forgotten something. There was something missing. Something important.
She tore open her valise. It was all there; her phone, charger, computer, input device, even clean underwear. She couldn’t remember packing. The evacuation signal had come through her implant, then she’d arrived at the station with bag in hand. The rest was a mystery. She didn’t really need her things, anyway. What she needed was in her head. A scan would see her settled in wherever she ended up.
She tried to relax, but the feeling persisted. The ship’s rumble turned into a steady hum. “Prepare for departure.”
In a blinding flash of light, the ship jumped, acceleration pushing her back. The station disappeared, the view becoming a smear of color before fading to darkness.
The woman next to her leaned over with a hesitant smile. “Excuse me. I noticed you checking your bag. Did you get everything?”
“Oh, yeah, I did.” Taryn replied. “I just have this feeling. Like I forgot something… I’m sure it’s nothing. I mean, we made it out, right?”
“That’s the important thing.” She agreed, nodding. “But I did the same thing, myself. I can’t shake that feeling.” Gesturing to the other passengers, she whispered. “And they’re so quiet. Too quiet. It’s not like I want everybody carrying on, but it feels...”
“Wrong. I know. The people back at the station…” Taryn trailed off, remembering.
“Well, we are here, now, right? That’s good…”
“Yeah, it is.” Only it didn’t feel good. Not bad, either. But there was no sense of relief for having made it. Suddenly, Taryn realized she had no idea where they were going. “Listen, this is so weird, but do you know where we being evacuated to? I just…”
“Attention.” The voice cut her off. “For your safety, the restraints will remain in place for the duration of the flight. In accordance with regulation 23678.4, the emergency evacuation system protocol will be ending momentarily. You may experience disorientation, nausea or intense emotions until your implant adjusts. We apologize for the inconvenience. Upon arrival, you will be assigned a counselor for processing.”
Taryn felt her harness lock with a click.
“The protocol will end in 3 – 2 – 1.”
The passengers suddenly erupted in screams and wails. A wave of nausea hit Taryn as images swept through her brain. Memories. Her wedding day. Justin. Giving birth. Her daughter. Her Cara…
“Cara!” Taryn screamed. She remembered leaving this morning with her valise, seeing her daughter tucked safely in her crib. Too young for an implant, there was no way her Cara could come with her on this journey. Taryn walked out the door and forgot her baby the moment she shut the door. Horror and guilt clawed through her. She struggled against her restraints, twisting and clawing like everyone else as they remembered the lives they had left behind. Then, all at once, silence fell. Their implants flooded the passengers with hormones, and calm settled over them like a warm blanket.
“Thank you for your cooperation.”