Crossed Wires

Although the holiday season is for many of us the most beautiful time of year, for many it is the most stressful time of year. There are families who once shared happy times together but, those good ole days are gone. Some people are struggling to make ends meet. For others, a description of the holidays would be a sad time, filled with feelings of being alone. In reality, finding fulfillment during the holidays, for some, is challenging. 

One of the best ways to step out of our own misery is to acknowledge it, then move ahead and help ourselves by helping others. With a giving spirit, comes fulfilling thoughts. For those who make a living creatively, a positive spirit is especially a must. When  inspiration is at a lack, it is important to remember we are in command of our own thoughts. If we get out of our self absorbed ways, and get involved in a cause or with others, the synchronicity of these actions often gives rise to creativity. After all, people who live with positive attitudes live longer and more fulfilling lives; it is a fact. If we are thinking life affirming thoughts, it is that much harder for feelings of desperation to set in. 

Yesterday morning was blustery with gale force winds, not typical for this part of Northwest Colorado. The storms of winter made me feel as if I didn’t want to go out. My spirits began to rise as I listened to the musical cd These are Special Times by Celine Dion. Remembering it was Thursday, the day our Steamboat Writers Group meets, I was warmed even further by thoughts of joining with in others who share in reading their own written word – books in progress. 

Today, I would like to congratulate one of our members of the Steamboat Writers Group. http://steamboatwriters.com/   His “Morning in San Pedro” won honorable mention in the Gemini Magazine Flash Fiction Contest. http://www.gemini-magazine.com/. Way to go, Dee Hubbard! Good job. 

Return tomorrow on Film Friday! We will have information about an upcoming televised special about a mini-series. Join us tomorrow on www.AllThingsFulfilling.com.

La Vie en Rose

Gilles had been hunting for hours. Caroline wrapped the ragged fur around her shoulders and cupped her hands in front of her mouth. Her breath did little to relieve her frozen fingers. She stared longingly at the fireplace, but only a few logs of firewood remained and they couldn’t be wasted during daylight.

Caroline’s rubbed her swollen, growling belly and persuaded herself to remain optimistic. There was food, Gilles just had to catch it.

She heard a bark outside, and peered out over the crumbling windowsill. A German Shepard, strong and muscular, stood outside the house. Her heart raced as she climbed to her feet. The dog was healthy, well-fed. It had a food source. Caroline smiled and opened the door.

The dog ambled in and sat by her feet. She knelt down to pet him. He sniffed at her fur and balked. He knew what kind of fur she wore. She threw it across the room and fell to her knees. The dog sniffed her hair, then licked her cheek. She wrapped her arms around him and said, “I’m sorry. Toby was a good boy, but we had no choice.” The dog’s soft fur was a harsh reminder of the pain of losing her dog, and what they did to him after he died. Gilles said his fur should remind her of his noble sac

Tears trickled down her cheeks.She wrapped the pooch in her arms rubbed his back. It felt so good to be close to something, to feel another heartbeat contradicting her own steady rhythm. The dog closed his eyes and licked her throbbing fingers.

An hour went by before Gilles returned with a rabbit over his shoulder. Caroline screamed in delight, scaring the dog from her arms. He barked in wild circles around Gilles, who kicked him away with his boot.

“Looks like I’m not the only one providing dinner tonight,” he said.

Caroline’s face went red and she burst into tears. “I won’t let you eat him,” she said. “He’s healthy, look at him.”

“You think this fox is going to feed us? We’re dying, Caro.”

“I know,” she sobbed, “but I’d rather die than kill him.”

Gilles raised his eyebrows, but kept his mouth shut. He built a small fire in the hearth, then skinned and spitted the fox above it. The beady black eyes followed Caro around the room, like Toby’s blank eyes boring into her soul as they roasted his flesh. Caroline shuddered.

“Promise me you won’t kill the dog,” she said, staring deep into his eyes.

Gilles nodded, then said, “I promise” in a low growl.

She sobbed again, and sank into the dog’s warm fur.. Gilles sang to her as the fox cooked, “La Vie en Rose,” and Caroline dreamed of a perfect life in pink.

#

Gilles had been right, the rabbit did little to fill their bellies, but the warmth of the fire brightened Caroline’s mood. When she woke, the crystals collected in Gilles eyelashes twinkled in the bright morning light.

She rubbed her hands across the taut skin on her belly. Her stomach was so hard and dense, like it was made of bone. Maybe it was strong. Maybe it would survive.

She shook her head. She mustn’t think such thoughts. It would likely die, so there was no reason to become attached. It was not a person, just a growth that would be removed in time.

She turned to find Gilles studying her from their nest on the living room floor, with a strange smile on his face. He stood in front of her and ran his hands down her stomach, then met her gaze with tears forming in his eyes.

“Boy or girl?” he whispered. “Do you feel him move?”

“Gilles, don’t.”

He nodded, steaming tears releasing from his frozen lashes, then he disappeared out the back door. Caroline searched for the dog, but he was no where to be found. She wrapped herself in the furs, and waited for them to return. Gilles returned just before dusk dragging a large skinned animal behind him, its blood smearing a ghastly trail through the house.

“What is that?” she said with a tightening throat.

“A wildcat. I found it in the woods.” Gilles pulled out the animal’s innards and placed them on a roasting pan over the fire. The smell of the burning flesh made her mouth water, but her stomach churned.

“Where’s the dog?” Caroline focused on his face, to see if he was lying, but he kept his eyes on the the knife in his hand.

“I don’t know, Caro,” he said. “I thought he was with you.”

An accusation was forming on her lips when a sharp pain jolted her. She felt warmth between her legs and looked down to see a pool of bloody mucus by her feet.

Gilles rushed toward her. “It’s coming?” Caroline cradled her belly as the first contraction hit. Gilles carried her to their nest, then dumped their only remaining logs of firewood onto the fire and knelt by her side.

After hours of labor, cursing Gilles and God and everyone in-between, the arrival of their son was announced by his high-pitched wail. Caroline couldn’t contain her happiness. She laughed and cried and nuzzled the sticky, slimy infant against her breast. She couldn’t imagine a more perfect creature. She never knew she could be this happy.

Caroline fell asleep with her son cradled in his arms.

#

When she awoke, it was dark, and Gilles and the baby were gone. Caroline called out for Gilles, but there was no response. She stumbled to her feet, clutching her sore stomach and screaming for her husband. The fur fell from her shoulders and her heart sank. The baby was gone. Did he die? He must’ve been weak. Malnourished. Maybe Gilles was burying him now. Or worse, maybe he wouldn’t bury him after all.

She screamed a fierce guttural cry. Gilles couldn’t – he wouldn’t – not his own son.

A loud knock on the door scared her out of her skin. She waddled to the door and held her face to the wood. “Who’s there?”

“Good evening, Ms. Armand. I’m with the HumaniTEE Corporation. Your husband invited me here to enroll you in our LifeSource program.”

“Gilles, where is he?” She pulled the door open to find three people in haz-mat suits outside. Caroline struggled to understand what was happening, but the loss of blood from labor coupled with fatigue discombobulated her mind.

“Your husband sacrificed himself to ensure a future for you and his son. His donation should give you comfort.”

“No, he wouldn’t. He hated you people. That’s why we left.”

“Ms. Armand, you left because your husband lost your job, and without a job you are not entitled to the benefits of living in a city.”

“He lost his job because he refused to torture and murder people in the name of science. And these benefits you’re withholding, they’re entitlements. Every human being is entitled to food, water and shelter. You’re treating us just like you treat your donors, torturing us until we die of starvation or exposure.”

The woman in the suit shook her head. “Ms. Armand, if you ever wish to see your son again, you will come with us. Your husband is gone. He is all you have left.”

After Caroline collapsed, they dragged her into a van. She’d have a life now, and a home in the city to raise her son. But at what cost? How could she bear to look at her son, knowing the price his life had cost?

A bloated insect lay upside-down at the bottom of Bryn’s beer bottle. After he vomited into the metal trash can beside Dana’s desk, he slumped back into his chair with a green-faced frown.

“You knew there was a cockroach in that beer, didn’t you?” Bryn said.

Dana’s thin lips strained into a smile like a taut rubber band, and she nodded.

Bryn returned a gesture of his own.

“This isn’t a cockroach,” she said as she tilted the lamp shade forward to illuminate the bottle. “Triatoma Sanguisuga, otherwise known as the Eastern Blood-sucking Conenose. I’m surprised you finished your drink without swallowing it,” she said with a nervous giggle. She rose from her chair and extended the bugged beer bottle toward Bryn.

“You wanted me to swallow the bug?” Bryn’s stomach churned.

Dana shook her head. “I want you to swallow it.” She rattled the bottle in front of his face.

“You’re crazy, I’m not eating a dead bug.” Bryn stood up too quickly and lost his balance. He tumbled over the chair and landed with a crunch on the floor. He screamed at the sharp pain in his ankle, and curled his arms around his injured leg.

Dana leaned over him and tapped the bottle against his skull.

Bryn looked up in disbelief. “What the fuck? Call an ambulance, I broke my damn leg.”

She shook her head. “Swallow the bug, then I’ll make the call.”

“Are you fucking crazy?”

Dana shrugged.

Bryn leaned back cautiously and slid his hand into the pocket of his jeans. He shouted profanities at her while he eased his phone out, then dialed 911 with a triumphant smile.

The call ended before the first ring. Dana ripped the phone from his hand and threw it at the wall where it smashed into chunks of glass and metal.

“What’s your fucking problem?” Bryn shouted.

“Swallow the fucking bug,” she hissed.

Bryn grabbed the bottle from her hand and raised it over his open mouth. He felt the bug land on his tongue and grimaced at the crunchy, bloody mess in his mouth before swallowing with an exaggerated gulp. “Happy now?” he groaned. “Call the damn ambulance.”

“You don’t need an ambulance,” she said as she slid back into her oversized leather chair.

Bryn threw the bottle at her head, but flinched in surprise when he heard it shatter on the wall directly behind her head. With the trajectory it flew, it should’ve hit her between the eyes.

“How the hell -”

She smiled, then leaned forward in her chair. “You’ll be fast too,” she whispered. “Check out your leg.”

Bryn pulled his pant leg up to reveal a normal looking leg. No signs of swelling or bruising. “How?”

“The bug. Let’s just say, you have all the benefits of a certain blood-sucking monster, without any of the drawbacks.”

“Wait – are you saying that I’m a – vampire?”

“Don’t say that word,” Dana hissed, and her head swung back and forth as if a tennis ball had volleyed across the room. She held a hand up to silence him and they both froze for a few tense minutes. Then she relaxed and curled up beside him. “You never know if one might be listening. Just make sure you don’t use that word.

“Who’s listening -” he said, but she cut him off.

“Shut up and listen to me. You have unbelievable speed and agility, the ability to heal from any wound, and superior hearing and vision. Maybe some other perks as well, but you’ll have time to figure those out later.”

“So can I got outside or-”

“Yes, sunlight is fine. You’re not dead, like them. You’re just – different. Better.”

He ran a hand over his head, noticing his receding hair line had grown back a few inches. He stared at Dana in awe. “So the bug did this to me?”

“The bug fed on one of them. Don’t ask me any more, I can’t tell you anything. But we’re even now, okay? I don’t owe you anything.”

Bryn nodded. “Yeah, sure. Your unpaid tax documents have disappeared. No audit.” He stood up and brushed off his pants. “Why didn’t you just tell me? I would’ve swallowed the damn thing.”

“Just promise me you won’t tell anyone about this,” she said, extending her hand out to him.

He shook it and chuckled. “Yeah, sure Dana. Thanks, I guess.”

She ushered him toward the door. “You’re welcome. Now get out of here and don’t ever come back.”

He stopped before opening the door, and leaned in to whisper in her ear. “Am I in danger?”

“Of course not,” she said as she flashed him an overly-bright smile. “Just keep our little secret and we’ll all be fine.”

He nodded, then walked through the door of her office to the hallway outside. The fluorescent lights flickered overhead as the sound of his footsteps reverberated through the empty hall. At the end, he opened the door to take the stairs down to his car, and bumped into a black robed man coming through the other way.

“Sorry,” Bryn said as he stepped out of the way.

“Dana Joseph,” the man creaked.

Bryn’s heart raced. The cloaked figure smelled of rotten meat and dirt, and his voice creaked like a rusty swing set. Bryn pointed down the hall with one shaky finger, then he raced down the steps the moment the other man disappeared.

Challenge rules are here: Terrible Minds Brand New Monster Challenge

Alain stepped through the dense foliage and found her laying naked on the jungle floor. He unbuttoned his sweat-stained shirt and slid off his pants. He kneeled beside her and brushed his fingers across her chocolate skin, glistening with sweat after the long walk from the village.

“You are so beautiful,” he said, his mouth tickling the curve of her ear as he spoke.

Alain’s pulse quickened as his eyes grazed on her body. He’d been trying to bed her since he’d arrived last month, and although she was the most beautiful woman in the village, he never saw her with a man. The other girls would flirt while they gathered food and cooked, but her eyes were always focused on her work, until this evening. His mission group hoisted the last of the hospital’s walls just before the jungle stole the remaining sunlight. After the celebratory feast, he saw her leaning against a tree with a wicked smile and a beckoning hand.

That hand was now in his hair, pulling his face towards hers. She slid her strong, lean legs around his midsection and flipped him onto his back. She licked a slow, deliberate path down his chest. She raised her head to catch his gaze and grinned, then resumed her descent with a muffled giggle.

Alain moaned watching the village woman work her magic. He closed his eyes when it became too much to bear, but instead of a release, his ecstasy continued to grow as spasms seized his body like a massive earthquake. He felt her body slide on top of him, pinning him down to the earth. His vision went white as their bodies rocked together, and a loud thrumming filled his head.

Two loud pops announced the end, along with a searing pain from behind his eye sockets. Another burning fire erupted from his groin. He tried to open his eyes, but there was nothing there, only darkness. His heart raced as he tried to shake free, but his body would not move. The thrumming noise grew louder.

Finally he was able to wrestle his hands free and bring them to his face. His fingers felt the smooth and slimy skin of a warm-blooded creature latched on to the upper half of his face. Tiny talons dug into his skin in an oval around his eyes, covering his forehead down to his nose, and from temple to temple. The skin of the creature undulated in time with the thrums, which seemed to be erupting from small holes along its body. He tried to pry it off his face, but the bond was too strong. His head swam and he tried to scream, but he could barely gather enough air in his lungs to breathe.

He felt the ground around his body in search of a weapon and discovered hard, spindly legs extending from the creature down into the soil, anchoring them both to the ground. Alain pounded the legs with his fist, and one by one they gave way, until finally only a few remained attached. Alain shoved at the creature but was unable to move it. He dug his fingers under the talons, tearing chunks of flesh from his face as he tried to break free. He heard a loud pop, and the pressure on his face was gone.

Alain raised his trembling hands to his head and surveyed the damage, unable to see anything but darkness. Blood rushed down his face from empty eye sockets, and the skin around his eyes was gone, only a few strands of sinewy muscle remained atop the bone. Alain’s screams came easily now, bouncing off the dense foliage of the jungle.

The thrumming grew even louder and a ferocious pain rippled through his body. Alain realized the creature was still attached to him. He reached down and felt it between his legs, covering everything below his navel, with his legs straddling its massive body. He began to kick at it with his feet as he pried it from his body. Another pop, an intense explosion of pain, and then Alain blacked out.

When Alain woke up in the hospital he helped build, the villagers were nowhere to be found. They had disappeared the night before, leaving behind the new hospital, empty thatched huts and a smoldering fire littered with bones from the feast.

Alain returned home with his mission group last weekend, and gave me this confession after I inquired about his injuries. I hope you share my concern for his well-being. My hope is that he can be admitted immediately in order to get the help he so desperately needs.

Father Jones

THE END

FYI – I was trying to find a picture of what this monster might look like, and this was the closest thing I could find:

Enzymes extracted from the hair of an African elephant provided the antidote, so when Ivy licked the medicinal lollipop, her mind recalled the putrid odor of the city zoo.

“Mommy, this tastes like elephant ass,” she said with a sour face.

“Don’t say ass,” her mother scolded. “Suck on it, like this.” She twirled the lollipop in her mouth with an exaggerated smile.

Ivy wasn’t fooled. “I don’t want it.”

The alarm blared through the hall. Her mother’s face contorted in fear as she forced the lollipop into Ivy’s mouth and held her jaw firmly shut.

Terrible Minds Flash Fiction Challenge: The Numbers Game

Last week was a bit rough, but this week’s story turned out much better. I love the 100 word challenges! They force you to be succinct. 

“What the hell is that?” Jimmy screeched, rising from the rotten log he’d used as his seat.

“Don’t touch. It’s all mine, boys. All mine.” Her eyes lit up, or maybe it was just the light bouncing off her retinas, and she chuckled, low and raspy. She waved the burning wand in front of her face, and we watched, mesmerized by the light dancing off each others faces.

“I want it.” Peter said in his quiet monotone. With the speed and agility of a wildcat, he leapt up from his red plastic lawn chair and grabbed for the wand. Tanya wrestled it away from him with a ferocious sneer, and suddenly Peter was enveloped in the flames, not real the red and yellow flames licking the logs in the center of our circle, but some sort of hallucinatory hellfire with purple and blue swirling tendrils. They spiraled around him in a vortex while he screamed, then he collapsed and the false fire was gone but the wand shone even brighter than before.

For a few moments, we sat there, shocked and silent. Tanya was bent over Peter with the wand held high over her head. Peter sat up slowly, clutching his head in his hands and panting heavily. Tanya patted his shoulder. “There there, Peter. Sorry about that, but you musn’t go touching my wand, you hear?” Peter nodded and went back to his chair.

Everyone looked round the circle, waiting to see what we’d say. Jimmy nodded to me, then back at Peter. I was sitting closest to him. I inched forward, aware that Tanya was gazing at me intently.

“How’s it goin’, Peter?” I said quietly, and wondered if he heard me. A few minutes later, after the most uncomfortable and awkward silence of my life, he finally answered my question.

“I’m on fire.” His reply was matter of fact, like he’d said, “I’m fine, how are you?”. Then his eyes drew up slowly and burned bright against his pale white skin. I swear I saw purple flames flickering around the reflection of myself in his eyes. A hard shudder cascaded through my body.

“You want me to take you to the hospital or something?”

“No.” His eyes left mine, and I inched my chair back to its original position. I didn’t want nothing to do with those flames.

Conversation was sparse after that. No one wanted to talk about that wand, or what happened to Peter, but it was all that was on anyone’s mind, so we all made excuses about having work in the morning and left the circle to Tanya and her wand.

Those flames haunted me all night. Tossing and turning, Peter’s screaming face had wound its way through every nightmare.

I felt the heat first. Then, a bright spot burned behind my eyes and I knew that wand was close. I thrashed in my bed, and scooted as far back into the corner as I could, but it wasn’t far enough. I sat huddled and shivering beneath my blanket while Tanya laughed, low and gravelly.

“Hey there Steve, long time no see.”

I hissed, startling myself with my strange response, but my biggest concern was Tanya.

“Now, be a good boy, Stevie, and come here. I need to show you something.” She put one hand on the bed and leaned forward, extending the wand as close to me as she could get without climbing onto the bed. It didn’t quite reach.

“Steve,” she cooed in a voice promising nothing good, and my mind cracked. I yelped like an old hound scolded by his master and leapt to the window, then broke right on through the screen without a moment’s hesitation. I bolted to my rusty old Ford pickup, thanking myself for keeping my keys in my pocket for just such an emergency, and then thanking my truck for starting up on the first try. I put it into drive and didn’t think about where I was going.

I realized I was only two miles from Jimmy’s house. I hoped he wasn’t out again with that blonde waitress who just moved into town.

I walked slowly and reluctantly toward Jimmy’s door. I stuck to the shadows and avoided light of any kind. His house was wrapped in shadows. The porch light, normally on, was busted out. The broken glass littered the sidewalk leading to his front door.

“Jimmy,” I hollered, “it’s Steve. Let me in.” I banged on the door for a good fifteen minutes, but I got no response. I walked around the house and banged on the windows, but the only words echoing through the dark night were the owls’ persistent questioning.

A car pulled into the drive, and I let out a sigh of relief. The light from the headlights blinded me, so I couldn’t see anything, but I heard the footsteps crunching on the glass on the sidewalk next to me, then they stopped. Suddenly, the light seemed to change. They compounded into a magnificent orb of light, and I knew it wasn’t Jimmy standing there. I turned to run, but something smacked me in the head and I went sprawling to the ground.

Tanya’s wicked smile glowered down at me. “Don’t bother looking for Jimmy. I took care of him a few hours ago.”

“Stay away from me, you crazy bitch,” I hissed.

Tanya laughed like a wheezing cat, eyes focused on mine, and stepped forward. The wand was inches from my face. The heat was so intense, I couldn’t see. I couldn’t breathe. The tongues of the artificial flames licked my face, teasing me with their tender kisses. Then, with a whoosh and a grunt, the flame was gone.

I opened my eyes, but I couldn’t see a thing in the darkness. Once my eyes adjusted, I saw Peter standing over Tanya, beating her to a bloody pulp with her own wand. His arm descended over and over again with catlike speed, blood and bits of bone were flying around him in a circle of destruction. I inched closer, begging him to stop, and he finally did. Then he turned to me, and I realized his eyes were glowing. His dark brown eyes were swirling with purple and blue flames. His long pale face was drawn into a thin wicked smile with drool glistening at the corners of his mouth.

“Hey buddy,” I said, trying to calm him with my peaceful tone, “let’s put that wand down now and call the police, okay?” I wasn’t sure we’d actually call the police, since they’d lock us up in the looney bin for certain, but I thought it’d calm him down. I was wrong.

He twitched like he’d gotten a jolt from an electric fence, then he raised the wand and it began to burn once more. I tried to stand but tripped on my own feet, falling back onto the busted glass sidewalk. The shards embedded in my ass and hands were painful, but not nearly as painful as I expected the burn from that wand to be.

“Don’t worry, Steve.” Peter spoke so quiet I could barely hear him. “It burns. But it feels so good. You’ll see.” His mad grin pulled the corners of his mouth damn near to his cheeks, like his head had been sliced in half at the mouth.

I yelped, I hissed, and I backed away. But it didn’t matter, soon enough, the wand lit my skin in those purple and blue flames. They climbed up my body in a swirling vortex of pain. All I could do was scream while Peter stood over me, laughing quietly.

Peter was right, it burned, but it burned so good.

“What are we waiting for?” Jeanne asked for the fifteen-thousandth time.

The bird glared at her, then turned his head away and squawked one loud, shrill reply.

“Right. I’m trying to be patient, but I’ve been waiting -”

SQUAWK!

Jeanne’s lips tightened and she prayed silently for God to grant her more patience. Patience, and maybe a book, or some other way to pass the time.

Jeanne leaned back and folded her hands behind her head, whistling a tune she remembered her mother singing as she cooked. She closed her eyes and remembered the smell of roasting rabbit wafting through her home. She could see the rabbit, dripping with juices as the fire wrapped around its golden carcass, hissing and popping as it burned. Then the fire grew. It leapt out from the hearth and climbed up the walls, drowning her home in swaths of orange and yellow flames. But her eyes remained focused on the rabbit, the poor dead creature, awash in the glow of the fire.

When one beady red rabbit eye opened, the fire surrounded Jeanne, and then the rabbit spoke. “Burn,” it said. “Burn!”

Jeanne screamed, and did as the rabbit asked. She burned.

When she opened her eyes again, she was no longer in her burning house. She was back with the bird, waiting.

“Squawk?” the bird asked. His long neck allowed his head to twist at a 90 degree angle, which Jeanne found unnerving. She shivered and turned away.

“Another vision,” she mumbled with a modest shrug.

“SQUAWK!”

Jeanne grimaced. “I know. I thought I’d be rid of the visions by now.” She shrunk into herself and sobbed. She was beginning to think she’d be stuck here forever.

The bird squawked again, this time with reproach, and shook his head.

“I’ve been stuck here for over 500 years, with no one to speak to except a squawking red bird and these horrible visions tormenting me. Will it always be like this, or will I finally move on? I just – I can’t take it any more,” she screamed, as she leapt to her feet. “God, I am your true and devoted servant. I served you faithfully in life and now I ask you to release me. Please, God, I beg for your mercy!” Jeanne collapsed, releasing all the years of frustration and anxiety through her ragged sobs.

Feathers tickled Jeanne’s face and she felt a cool mist envelop her body. When she opened her eyes, she was back on Earth, surrounded by a small grove of trees. Astonished, she looked down to see her own naked body, just as young and beautiful as she had been in life.

“Jeanne, God has heard your prayer. He was merely waiting for you to ask.”

She stood, cradling her cold, naked body with her arms, and stared around her in amazement. “Where am I?”

She found the bird sitting on a path between two towering trees, and she stepped toward him as he spoke to her.“You’re back in France. It’s 580 years later though, so you’ve got some catching up to do. Don’t worry, I’ll help you adjust. Just don’t mention me to anyone, or they’ll think you’re crazy. And you know how well that ended last time, right?” The bird chuckled, then patted her leg with one long outstretched wing.

Jeanne dropped in front of the bird, caressing its cheek. “Why – I thought I’d – why am I here?”

The bird’s head tilted sideways again, though not quite so awkward of an angle this time. “You’re a phoenix, Jeanne. Just like me. When we burn, we do not die. We are born again.” The bird trotted off down the path and after a deep breath, Jeanne followed patiently behind.

Flash Fiction story written for the TerribleMinds challenge: “Plucked from the Pages of History”

“You’re a fucking idiot.”

“She’s a fucking horse with a fucking horn growing out of her fucking forehead. She’s a fucking unicorn!”

Paul took a swig of beer, then held his forearm to his lips to hold back the beer that threatened to spew from his mouth as he fought back laughter. After finally managing to swallow it down, he looked at Steve with tears dripping down his cheeks and said, “You actually think your sister’s horse gave birth to a mystical creature? Some mythological beast has sprung from that sad old swayback mare to gallop in the moonlight with naked virgins while farting rainbows?” Paul leaned back as he filled the room with laughter, almost falling out of his chair.

“I never said she was some magical creature or anything. She’s got a horn, that’s all.” Steve grabbed his jacket off the back of his chair and slammed the door shut behind him. He heard Paul yell for him as he walked down the street, but it was followed by another roar of laughter so he just kept walking.

“Wait Steve, maybe your unicorn could stop by my Grandmother’s house tomorrow and cure her arthritis! She’s had a hell of a time doing her laundry lately.” Paul’s laughter followed Steve down the street. He gritted his teeth and flipped him the bird, even though it was too dark for him to see it.

It was a short walk home back to Steve’s apartment complex. He jammed his key in the slot and wiggled it around until he could slide it into place, then he had to jerk the door a few times before it would open. He climbed the orange shag carpeted stairs to the third floor, holding his breath next to Mrs. Carlson’s door that reeked of cat piss, until he reached his room. After another short struggle with his own apartment door, he flicked on the TV and collapsed on his own old mare, a couch just as swaybacked as the unicorn’s mother. He fell asleep in front of the TV with a beer in hand.

The next morning, he checked his email at work and saw a message from Paul. He almost deleted it unread, but the subject line caught his attention, “$50.”

“Hey Steve, I told Peggy about your sister’s horse and she’s willing to pay you $50 to bring him over to Sally’s birthday party on Saturday. Kids love unicorns. I knew you’d be interested cuz you’re always broke.”

Steve groaned and gave Paul’s email the finger, even though he wouldn’t be able to see it. It just made him feel better. Paul knew he wouldn’t say no to $50, but he wasn’t looking forward to more of his laughter on Saturday.

Steve showed up at the party with Snowflake in tow. His sister wouldn’t have let him take the trailer and especially not the horse, but she was out of town and wouldn’t ever know what he’d done.

The girls at the party started screaming once he’d arrived. Peggy must’ve told them he was coming. They were jumping and screaming at the back of the trailer, and he could hear the foal huffing and stomping around. He pushed the girls away as he reached for the door handle. His hand turned halfway, then stopped, as he felt a strange sensation ripple through his body. He shouldn’t open the door. He didn’t know why, or what would happen, but he knew it would be bad.

“Come on, Uncle Steve, open her up. The girls want to see your unicorn!” Steve looked up to see Paul’s drunken sneer hovering above all the young girls chanting “Unicorn! Unicorn!” and his hand continued moving again. A hush fell over the crowd as the door swung open, and for a few seconds nothing happened. Then, all at once, the children began to scream.

Steve surveyed the chaos around him. The unicorn was impaling the children with its long, twisted horn. Paul and Peggy was screaming while trying to gather up their own children, leaving the rest of the kids to fend for themselves. The children were climbing trees and jumping up on the tables, but the unicorn was surprisingly agile and easily jumped eight feet in the air to snatch them by their clothing or whatever body part was most easily accessible. One of the kids had broken his leg, and he was the first to die. The unicorn impaled him through the chest then ripped his throat out and screamed a bloodcurdling roar before chasing the next child down.

Steve dropped to his knees and wrapped his hands around his head. He thought about his sister’s refusal to let him take the beast and wondered if she knew what would happen. It wasn’t his fault, though. He couldn’t be blamed for it. She should’ve said something.

Within a few minutes, the screams had stopped. He raised his head to find the unicorn resting a few feet ahead of him, licking the blood and gore from his legs. He cocked his head sideways and looked directly at Steve, then bleated like a goat, and went back to his licking. Steve surveyed the yard, blood covering the grass in every direction, and small body parts littering the grass as far as he could see. He shuddered and stood up. The unicorn looked at him again with his head cocked to the side, and then trotted back to the truck and curled up in the cab, underneath the seat on the passenger side. Steve climbed in the driver side and put the key in the ignition.

He heard Paul yelling at him as he backed up the truck, and Steve rolled down the window. “Where the fuck do you think you’re going? The police are on their way.”

“What do I need to be here for? I didn’t do nothing.” Steve shrugged and tried to roll up the window, but Paul grabbed it and held it down.

Paul’s eyes were red and wild and saliva flew from his mouth as he screamed, “You brought that fucking creature over here! It murdered all these kids!”

Steve shrugged. “Yeah, so what, the cops going to interrogate her? She’s a unicorn.”

“She’s not a unicorn! She’s a murderous fucking horse and you are responsible for this!” Paul tried to jump into the cab, but Steve hit the gas pedal and flew down the driveway. Paul fell off before he reached the road, and Steve called out to him before he drove down the street.

“You’re the one that told me to bring her over here. Kids love unicorns, but it doesn’t look like unicorns like kids. In face, I think unicorns hate kids. Well, at least this one does. Seems fine with adults though, docile as a lamb.” He patted the bloody beast on the head, and the unicorn bleated happily and laid its head back down for a nap. Steve put his foot on the gas and left the massacre behind them.

Flash fiction challenge from the Terrible Minds site: http://terribleminds.com/ramble/2011/07/22/flash-fiction-challenge-thats-right-i-said-unicorn/

Rosemary loved her mother’s garden and was drawn to it in a way most sixteen-year-olds never are. Especially ones with driver’s licenses. Every day after choir practice at school she would drive home, grab her camera, put on her Crocs and walk the long, pebbled path to the raised beds of the vegetable garden just inside the deer fencing. The day she would discover her secret, the beds had just been tilled and fertilized and made ready for the spring planting of the usual–tomatoes, string beans, radishes, carrots, peppers and corn. She walked past them all, past the barely budding berry bushes to one bush in particular.

Every day, no matter the weather, Rosemary walked to the forsythia bush. Every day she took a picture from the same spot. She’d been doing this since she got her digital camera for her fourteenth birthday. She was born in the spring and there was something about the season, about everything coming alive, that spoke to her in ways she thought only spring babies really understood. On this particular day the bush’s little buds had slightly opened to reveal the tiniest peek at the yellow flowers to come. She walked to the well-worn spot where her wooden bench stood, sat down and took the shot. This was the second year she’d make a time-lapsed video out of her photos. There was something about watching the bush die and come back to life in a matter of minutes that hypnotized her. There was a beauty in it. A natural beauty. But, of course, nothing comes back from the dead.

Image via Wikipedia

My father has a freeway named after him. I’d rather have my dad.

Guys don’t really talk like girls about it, but when I stood in the graveyard it just, well, was hard to tell him. And I needed to. I needed to tell someone. Someone who wouldn’t tell anyone else. But, it felt like all the dead people were listening. And the worst part was, Dad was buried next to Grandma.

“What’s taking so long?” Hector yelled, still sitting on his bike, waiting for me, with all the understanding of someone who couldn’t wait two seconds for his friend to run into 7-11 for a coke.

Dad’s at the corner of Serenity Way and Heavenly Drive just up a grassy hill, beside an oak tree. I didn’t like him being so close to the oak tree. It had already messed with some of the tombstones five graves over. I didn’t think Dad believed in Heaven. He believed in rules. Well, the law mostly, and the law is sort of like the Olympics of rules. But there were other rules that were way more important when I was growing up. Like The Cut-Off, when I couldn’t talk on the phone after 10. And how he made me and my sister check-in all our “devices” until morning so we wouldn’t get into any “shennanigans.” He was hard core. And made what happened to Alyssa and me nearly impossible, until this year.

“Fabian!” Hector, yelled.

“Just freaking ride around the block or something,” I yelled back.

“Aren’t you done yet?” Hector looked down the road and didn’t budge. “How long does it take to tell him your not half a virgin anymore?”

Now the whole graveyard knew.

© Laura Elliott, 2011

Image by NASA Goddard Photo and Video via Flickr

I never arrive. I  just move. But, sometimes it happens. Ok, this one time it happened. And it wiped out my year. It’s not like I’m sticking my chest out about it since it’s against my code–attachment, not pride. Here’s what happened.

But, before I tell you how it started I have to tell you that everything reminds me of Rebecca. Nothing will ever make me forget, as bad as I want to. She’s the first one I see when I walk into a new school. I always go looking for Rebecca.

Five years on the road with Mom and Dad, chasing work, landed me at Buchannon High School. Fifth school in five years. And the first day of class went worse than all my other first days because I was that kid. The kid that transfers in his Senior year. There’s a special place in Hell for that kid. A disproportionately large amount of hearts break for that kid. The normally happy-go-luckys, couldn’t help themselves saying, must be hard leaving everything you know behind.  They had no idea why it wasn’t, my world so far away from theirs. Galactically far.

The cheerleaders were the first ones to size me up at every school. That’s when I met Lexie. There were six of them. There were always six of them. No one went without the other. Anywhere. Until me.

It was lunch period in the cafeteria. And the six of them had been flipping me stares through my daily read of the Business Section of the New York Times.

“See it really didn’t happen that way,” Lexie said.

“What way?” I asked in a preemptive strike. To take the sting out of  their certain swarm. First contact was also against my code. And that’s when she let me have it.

“What is it about gorgeous guys? Rude.” She said before the huddle took to the labyrinth. Her friends saying things about my nerve and my big idea.

Something about the way she let me have it and the word gorgeous began my year of pissing people off and never flying under the radar again. It was the day that everything changed. Like the day a high school basketball star signs with the NBA. And it all started with the biggest lie.

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*Dear readers, you have inspired me to continue with one more year of questions. Thanks for the new subscriptions and the encouragement. The next year of questions starts tomorrow. Here’s this year’s last answer*

The skeleton was real.

One fearless thing. That’s all I wanted. One crazy-ass thing.

But I never thought it would happen the way it did. I never thought I’d jump. And the real kicker is? I know the real reason why and I’ll never tell. I guess you could say I took it with me to the grave. But I’m totally claustrophobic so it was more like taking it to the crematorium which is a way creepier sounding word than grave, but just doesn’t have the same ring to it. Since the world’s running out of places to bury people maybe it’ll catch on.

It all started at a football game. There was this guy. And there was my lying boyfriend. And, there was my sister’s raised eyebrows. For the first time in my college life something started that wouldn’t stop. It would follow me and put a smile on my face. And would have followed me until I was old and gray because when your jumpmaster is a red-headed, Irish, politically-incorrect joke cracker named Angus and his company mascot is a full-scale [whispered to be real] human skeleton named Winston, well, that crap sticks with you. I think of it every time I eat Giordano’s.

“Look. look. check. check. Pull.”

When I heard the noises outside the bedroom window I didn’t really pay attention to them, I’m used to my parents fighting, but when I listened closely, I heard more than two voices. I looked out the window and to my surprise it wasn’t even close of being my parents, there were three men, tall muscular, and they had this look of evilness. I was staring at them I don’t know why, I couldn’t stop. Everything inside me turned, and I knew there was trouble. When my mom came in my room I stood still behind the curtains not even breathing. I thought it was one of them, my mom came closer and I jerked when she put her hand on my shoulder, she looked out the window. The bald guy smoking a cigar looked up and saw us; he gave my mom this look like I’m going to kill you. Who is he? Why does he look so familiar?  Then a picture flashed in my mind, it wasn’t long ago when I had a feeling that my mom was hiding something so I decided to follow her, I remember that guy, but from where? Think I told myself, think! I remembered in the bar where my mom works or should I say enjoys her life. He was there… what does he want from her? This isn’t good.

“Quick, hide” she said in a terrifying voice. I didn’t argue like I usually do, we just ran to the cellar room. There in total blackness I heard their footsteps, they were getting closer, and I heard my heartbeat, I was scared really scared. They didn’t notice the door, they were looking for us. Where was dad? I hoped that he was safe. I quietly found my way to mom, and in a whisper voice asked “Where is dad?” It was dark and I made sure that I was by my mom because she didn’t answer, but I felt her hair and I could tell that someone was staring at me so I figured that it was her. “I’m here.” A manly voice answered, I jumped and my mom screamed, “Don’t worry it’s just me.” My dad tried to say it in a calm voice. The door opened and the light hurt my eyes, I hid in behind some door I don’t even remember where I was at that time. I saw their shadows, all three of them. They didn’t even bother looking for me they came to our small little house just for my parents. Even though I don’t know them, they will be in my nightmare every night. They were the ones who took the closest people I had, my parents.