Tag: short-story

Flash Fiction February Day 5

On By WinstonIn Creativity, fiction, Flash Fiction February, My Chaotic Mind, Storytelling, The Choices We Make, writingLeave a comment

Don’t Open That Window

“Does that plane look like it’s on a normal flight path to you?”

Doug’s wife looked up from the novel she was reading. “What plane is that then?”, she asked peering skyward and feigning and interest she definitely didn’t feel. She was just getting to the juicy bit and didn’t feel like being interrupted.

“I’m sure the pilots know more about what they’re doing than you do.” With this pronouncement, she went back to the Duke and the bartender anxious to find out what that was going to turn out like.

Sparing Denise a quick glare, he went back to anxiously watching the plane in question. It was passing from view over the house. Getting to his feet, he hurried through the house to stand on the front step waiting to catch sight of it again.

Doug couldn’t say what looked off about it, but there was something for sure.

His neighbour Terry was watering the flower beds beside his front walk. When he saw Doug staring intently at the sky, he turned to see what he was looking at. There was a plane arcing peacefully across the sky, but that couldn’t be it.

“Whatcha lookin’ at Dougie?”, he asked good naturedly. Terry was fundamentally good natured. It was his default setting and sometimes, it could rub people the wrong way. They didn’t understand him and tended to think he was somehow making fun of them. 

Looking over for a moment Doug replied, “It’s that plane up there. I can’t put my finger on it,” his eyes were already tracking back to it “but there’s something just doesn’t look right.”

Terry peered more closely at the plane trying to see anything unusual to be a supportive friend. 

Young Carol Martin was riding past on her way to her friend Diane’s place so they could study (mostly teen hotties online but officially math). Seeing the two men staring upwards, she stopped her bike and looked at the sky curiously. She didn’t know what they were looking at but assumed she would know it if she saw it. After a few minutes of seeing nothing, she pushed off and pedalled on her way to Diane’s.

Presently, the plane disappeared over the truncated horizon of the nearby rooftops.

“Looked normal to me.”, Terry said apologetically and went back to his watering.

Shaking his head and still glancing at the now empty sky, Doug stood thoughtfully on his step for another minute before returning to the backyard and taking his seat on the lounge chair next to Denise.

“Doesn’t that plane look just like the last one that flew over a little while ago?” Doug asked his wife. 

Denise looked up annoyed from her book where the Duchess and a bartender were about to get juicy. “What plane?”

He pointed at the aircraft arcing gently across the bright, cerulean sky. “That one. Doesn’t it look like the one like twenty minutes ago?”

She gave an exaggerated sigh as she tended to do when she wanted him to understand he was getting on her nerve. “There was no plane twenty minutes ago.”

He started to say something, and she held up a hand palm outward in the universal gesture for “shut up”. “Even if there had been a plane twenty minutes ago, there are only so many types of big passenger planes so of course they’re going to look similar. It’s the mechanical version of convergent evolution.” Denise didn’t always read smut and sometimes liked to remind her husband of that fact.

Unconvinced but unwilling to annoy her further, he returned to his own book but continued casting furtive glances at the sky.

The third time the plane started its lazy crawl across the sky, Doug didn’t say anything to his husband Dennis. He just got up and went through the house to stand on the front porch and watch the plane.

Dennis barely noticed him leave. In the book he was reading, the Duke was about to get juicy with a blacksmith and he wasn’t about to let Doug interrupt that.

Terry was still watering his plants although as far as Doug could tell, he was watering the same ones as he had been half an hour ago. He was on the verge of saying something when two very unexpected things happened. Carol Martin cruised past on an electric scooter heading the same direction as she had been going earlier on her bike. More disturbingly, he realized he didn’t have a husband named Dennis, but rather a wife named Denise. Rushing back through the house, he realized that many of the things he was used to seeing every day were subtly different.

He emerged into a back yard he barely recognized and looked up to see the same plane sailing smoothly across the sky. Doug fell on his ass on the patio and began to laugh.

At a university in Montreal Professor Douglas Grant glanced at his research assistant, a PhD candidate named Denise Hutchins. “It should have worked damn it! Maybe we’re never going to be able to open a portal allowing us to look sideways from one timeline into another similar but slightly different.”

Denise nodded. “Even if we could, there’s the danger of falling through. If that happened you could end up endlessly flipping from one line to another forever drifting further from the reality you know. I wonder if some of the people in asylums aren’t travellers who wandered too far.

In a nearly infinite number of realities Doug sat in care facility and laughed and laughed.

Take a moment and let me know what you think. If I don’t like it, I can always go look for a reality where you said something nice 🙂

Cheers,

Flash Fiction February Day 4

On By WinstonIn Bullying, Creativity, fiction, Flash Fiction February, magic, The Old Ways, writingLeave a comment

A Brand New Witch

Sheila looked at the book her friend Gilli had given her. It had a typically witchy looking cover illustration and was called “Simple Protective Spells”. She felt more than a little stupid and self-conscious just having it in her hand. She opened the paper bag on the kitchen counter. It smelled vaguely familiar, but she couldn’t place it.

She had tried to refuse when Gilli had brought the book and paper bag of “necessary bits and things”. 

“We both know there’s a lot going on in your life right now, and it’s not all good, no matter what you say to the rest of your friends.” As she thrust the bag and book once more towards her friend Gilli’s eyes flickered to the bruise, barely discernable under Sheila’s make up. 

“At least tell me you’ll look at it. Everything you need is there so it won’t even cost a dime to try. Worst thing that can happen is nothing. Right?”

Sheila had said she would think about it and taken the gifts her friend had brought. Her plan right then had been to take it just to stop Gilli pushing. She figured she would stick it out of site for a couple of days and then give the book back.

That had been the plan, but Gilli’s visit seemed to have woken up Geoff who had been sleeping off half a dozen beers in Sheila’s bedroom. She could still hear her friend’s steps receding down the hall when Geoff came out into the living room of the small apartment.

He crossed to her in two quick, angry strides. Not saying a word, he knocked the bag and book from her hands. A moment later he knocked her sprawling to the floor as well. He bent over and started slapping her over and over, hissing threats and profanities while spittle flew from his lips. She buried her mouth in the crook of her arm to keep from crying out and tried just to ride out the storm.

Eventually, the attack stopped and he grabbed her by the chin forcing her look at him. 

“I’ve told you before I don’t want you hanging around with her. She’s not a good influence on you. She’s a witch! How could she be a good anything? They used to burn people like her and as far as I can see, they still should.”

He kicked Sheila in the stomach making her grunt. “I’m going out and I want that book torn up, every page by the time I get back. That bag of whatever I want in the dumpster not polluting this place.”

He pulled his foot back and she braced herself but he changed his mind. He turned away and shoved his feet into his battered sneakers, grabbed his jacket and left. 

Now standing at the counter in the kitchen, instead of tearing up the book, she opened it and started reading. As she read, she took the items from the bag. There was a bundle of sage, a couple of black feathers, some dried herbs, string, salt, oil, a small bottle with a cork and a few other things. Continuing to read, she began humming softly.

Sheila was dozing on the couch when he heard the apartment door open followed by a muffled “What the fuck?”

Sitting up she looked over to see Geoff standing just outside the open door. She felt the old, instinctive fear start. Found herself wondering how badly he had lost at pool and how much he’d have to hurt her to feel like a big man again.

“Hey!”, he slurred, “Let me in!”

She stared at him in disbelief. “The door is open, I’m not sure what you want me to do.”

The usual nasty drunk look came over his face. “I don’t care if the door is open, I can’t get through it. Get your ass over here and help me.”

She was halfway to the door when she remembered how she had spent her evening.

“What do you mean you can’t get through it? Just step forward.”

He reached forward and quickly yanked his hand back with a yelp.

She moved closer. “What was that about?”

“I can’t get through the fucking door!”, he growled. “Did you or your bitch friend do something weird while I was out? I swear, if you did…” Geoff let the sentence trail off, redolent with the threat of future violence.

She moved closer to the open door. He sprang forward to grab her and was slammed against the opposite wall of the hallway. He slid slowly down to the floor a trickle of blood running from his nose.

“You bitch!”, he rasped hoarsely. “I don’t know what you’ve done, but you can’t stay in there forever. When you come out I’m gonna beat your ass so bad you’ll never even think about disobeying me again!”

Shiela smiled at him. “You can try, but the spell I cast will deflect any harm your try to do to me and return it to you three times over.”

She stepped through the door and stood over him. “Go ahead and hit me. Come on!”, she taunted, her voice rising and gaining strength.

“Why don’t you slap me, or punch me? Are you just going to lie there like a little bitch?” 

She started to laugh.

Geoff’s drunken rage overcame caution and he lashed out with his foot. He had been aiming for her knee and suddenly his own bent sideways and he shrieked in pain.

Neighbour’s doors cracked open at the noise and Shiela laughed louder. “I bet that hurt baby!” She hurled one of his favourite lines back at him and watched him flinch.

“I thought your were gonna beat my ass like all those other times. What’s the matter? You aren’t scared of a girl are you? Big, strong, vicious, cruel, petty, jealous, violent piece of fucking shit like you? Scared of little ol’ me?”

“Crawl your broken ass outta my building. While you’re at it, you may as well crawl all the way outta my city! I’m just getting started and you want to be a long way away before I’m finished.”

Sobbing with pain, Geoff dragged himself down the hallway trailing his broken leg behind him. Sheila looked at the nearest neighbour and smiled sweetly.

“So sorry about all the noise. I promise it won’t happen again.”

Settling back on the couch, she picked up her phone and called Gilli. “Wanna come over and hang out? Oh no, you can stay as long as you like, Geoff isn’t going to be a problem anymore.”

Love it? Hate it? Let me know!

Cheers,

Flash Fiction February Day2

On By WinstonIn Creative Drive, Creativity, Flash Fiction February, Mental Health, Personal Responsibility, Reaping What We've Sown, The Bill Always Comes Due, The Choices We Make, ValuesLeave a comment

A Thief’s Tale


Gabby moved smoothly along the crowded platform towards her mark. Slowly, casually closing the distance.

She had spent half the morning watching the jewellery store, waiting for the right person to make their purchase and exit. Pine’s Jewellers was a high-end store. She knew she could only dip one of their clients otherwise people start seeing patterns and then it’s three hots and a cot. Now though, this guy was it. She had watched the owner during the transaction, and you could see what a huge price tag this had from his excitement.

Gabby had drifted along in this guy’s wake, keeping her distance, waiting for a crowd. She had learned early never to dip on a mark if there was no one else around who looked more like they might have done it. She hung back and waited.

Eventually, he had taken the stairs down to catch this train. Now was the time. She closed the last few feet and waited another beat. A really sketchy looking guy bumped into the mark, and she made her dip at almost the same moment. Prize in hand, she excused herself around the person the mark would remember later for the police and headed to a different car.

This train would get her home so why waste the fare.

That evening, she was supposed to go out for dinner with her boyfriend. He had gotten reservations at the restaurant where they had gone on their first date. They both really liked it. The food was great and the staff were amazing. He had seemed a little weird and kind of on edge or nervous. Hopefully, she would find out what was going on with him over dinner.

On her way to the restaurant, she stopped by Larry’s place. Officially, he ran a combination corner store and mini arcade. But he also handled all the non-cash items Gabby and a few other “entrepreneurs” brought in. He had connections who paid top dollar and even after his cut it was better than risking any of the local pawn shops.

She had been waiting at the restaurant for over half an hour when she called Tom to ask if everything was okay.

“No.”, he said in a strained voice like he had been crying. “Nothing is all right. Nothing and it never will be.”

Gabby was shocked. She knew he had stress and anxiety issues that could make him really emotional at times, but had never heard him like this. “What happened?”, she asked.

“I had this whole big evening planned out.” His voice was almost a sob and she felt an edge of fear she couldn’t pin down.

“My brothers flew in from out of town. They were going to be in the crowd there. We were going to do this big song and then I was going to get down…” His voice choked off into a series of muffled sobs.

“I was going to get down on one knee pull out the ring… I had the perfect ring…” he sobbed again.

“I had seen this ring, and I saved forever but still didn’t have enough so Andy and Mark made up the difference. Not a loan, they just gave me the money.” He paused again, recovered and continued. “I was hung up at work, so Mark went to pay off the last of it and pick up the ring.”

She could hear him breathing careful, slow breaths to keep the sobbing at bay. “Someone pick-pocketed him on the subway when he was on his way back to my place. They took the ring. They took it and it’s a sign.”

Whatever he said next was lost in a rush of traffic noise.

“Oh my God Tom! I am so sorry!”, she gasped. She felt as if she had just been plunged into ice water.

“No.”, he said. His voice was hoarse with repressed tears.

“I’m the one who’s sorry. I’m sorry I wasted your time. I don’t want to waste any more of it.”

A horn blared over the phone and Gabby realized he had just jay-walked in front of someone.

“Tom!”, she called into the phone which suddenly seemed like the heaviest thing she had ever tried to hold. The weight of it pulled her down and she bent almost double at the waist.

“Tom, I’m still here.” Fear closed her throat and she felt her own hot tears spill down her cheeks. “I’m still here.”

“I know you are.”, he said and she could hear his tears again and the fear became a knife cutting off her breath.

“I know you won’t do the right thing on your own, so I’m going to help you.”

Gabby clutched the wastebin beside her to keep from collapsing completely.

“I can’t let you throw your life away for a loser like me.”

“Tom!”

She heard the clatter and scrape that meant a dropped phone.

A moment later, she heard screaming down the street to her left. Lurching to her feet she sprinted in that direction. She pushed her way through the gathering crowd and saw a woman holding

Tom’s phone.

“What happened?”, she managed to ask still struggling to catch her breath.

Seeing her red-rimmed eyes and tear-stained cheeks, the woman replied. “He was talking with someone, then he just dropped this and threw himself over the railing. He didn’t even pause or anything. One second, he was here… then he was just gone.”

She held out the phone, but Gabby ignored her and pushed her way to the railing. She looked down and saw him thirty feet below. He was sprawled awkwardly in the street like child’s discarded toy.

For one wild moment, she thought about joining him. She backed away from the railing. That would be the easy way out and she didn’t feel she deserved easy.

When the police arrived, she approached one of them and told them the whole story. She used her phone call to tell Andy what had happened. Each of his sobs was another stone in her heart.

Sitting in a urine reeking holding cell, she asked herself how many other easy marks lives she had destroyed.