Gail Thornton's Blog: Gail Thornton's World, page 4

Flash Fiction – Progress

The word is progress. The word limit is 100.

The two marines were traversing a deep swamp within eyesight of the enemy line on the other side. Their progress was slow and they were faced with water snakes and undergrowth which tangled around their legs and gear.

Sawyer and Blade were about twenty feet apart, each trying to keep just their eyes above the water level. Occasionally, cranes took off or landed, startling them.

Suddenly, all of the birds in the swamp and jungle beyond took off. Looking at each other, Sawyer reached out and plucked a lone lilly from the surface of the swamp.

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Flash Fiction – Travel

The word is travel. The word count is 150.

Rich was disabled with a dying pancreas, but his wife Sheila provided well for them with a high tech job in Silicon Valley. Sheila was a Buddhist, going on many weekend retreats away from her fatalistic husband. He just couldn’t get his Om in order, or meditation or peace of mind enough to join her. Pain meds were his way of life, and even marriage counseling was failing to keep them from drifting apart. All they had in common were their two cats.

As a last resort, they planned a vacation. They would travel to Alaska to the wilds of North America to reignite their togetherness.

Rich obtained the necessary prescriptions for the trip, and Sheila promised to let loose and leave her Buddhism at home.

Upon returning from a glorious trip with glaciers, wildlife, snorkeling, kayaking, and whale watching they agreed upon one thing. They would split the cats.

Are you flashing yet?

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Flash Fiction – Backward

The word is backward. The word count is 150.

He put the key in the lock and slowly turned it. Pulling the steel door open, the attendant got the box and put it on the table for her and left Julia alone with the last effects of her late husband. The security deposit box was all he had left her in his will, and she had no idea what was in it. He had never spoken of it and they had had no time to prepare for this. They had been married in Rio just two weeks ago.

She had married an American to escape the horrible poverty of her home country, despite the commercialism of the resorts. She tried not to allow her thoughts to go backward to her former life.

Julia trembled and opened the box. There was one item in it: a gorgeous cut diamond and ruby necklace.

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Flash Fiction – Go

The word is go. The word limit is 150.

It was Halloween evening. Willie, ten and Rachel, eight had been to all of the houses on their street in their costumes to collect candy to take home.

The last house was directly across from theirs, where old Mr. Lowry lived in the cedar woods in a log cabin. They had never seen Mr. Lowry.

“Come on, Rachel, let’s see what Mr. Lowry has for us.”

“Don’t go there, Willie, it’s scary.”

Willie put his hand up. “Wait for me here. I’ll be right back.”

He ran up the dirt road and rang the big bell by the old wooden door.

In the flicker of the oil lamps inside, Willie met most terrifying sight.

Animal heads on the wall. There was a tiger with big teeth, a lion, a zebra, and a huge owl with claws.

Then he saw it. The shotgun.

Are you flashing yet?

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Flash Fiction – Up

The word is up. The word count is 150.

Mildred had been a shut-in in her studio apartment for years. She longed for her family, now gone. She was alone by herself.

She lived in an elderly apartment complex. Mildred had dreams of going on the Autumn foliage trip on the senior bus with all of the neighbors she did not know.

She was an avid nature lover and even in the darkness of the past years, she had put up a hummingbird feeder.

This is my last chance, thought Mildred. She called and made a reservation, not knowing how she would possibly get on the bus.

When it came time for her to board the bus, she thought of retreating back to her room and chair.

“Step up on my hand!” the bus driver had said to her. Mildred gleamed. A dream of a lifetime. She felt loved.

Flash Fiction – Egress

The word is egress. The word limit is 150.

The Blue Oyster night club in Chinatown was a popular spot for techno music and raves. On this particular night, the place was packed way beyond the licensed capacity.

It was Friday night and the age range of the patrons was sixteen (allowed in by the bouncers) to about twenty-five. It was a happening place, and the gem in the middle of a busy community.

A rave was on, and the strobe lights were blinding and bodies thrashed to the techno music from deafening surround sound speakers.

On the stage in front of the dance floor, pyrotechnics erupted to enhance the frenzy of the partygoers.

Suddenly the pyrotechnics failed and erupted into real flames, igniting the sound proofing in the ceiling.

1000 people tried to egress through through the revolving doors at the front. The headlines the next day said all were crushed.

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Poem – Song for Unattainable Men

Song for Unattainable Men

I’ve been waiting, have you dreamt of me?

since I penetrated your left eardrum

with my flute solo, the one I played for you

on that slick cardboard and scotch-taped instrument.

I was a virtuoso then, at ten,

and I’m still waiting.

Have you dreamt my melody?

I see the opening in your ear sucking

on the flirtatious patter of overgrown girls

with your eye for propriety

and lust for that candy, that syrup,

those vapors, while I play.

My flute is sterling now; I play it solo.

Open-holed like your ear and I thought

the two of you would get along.

Snakes do their bidding, as I seduce them

for their venom, but my song dies

in empty chambers when you hear.

Maybe, though, I could be wrong.

Maybe my music fills your dreams

with liquid crescendos, my silver grip,

and you with your sense of propriety

and place can tolerate clatter and chat

but awaken shaken with my solo in your song.

Do you turn to the medicine cabinet

in navy hours of the night

looking for liniment and swabs

to comfort tears that your ear cries?

Tears that weep from the hole

I put in your dreams one night.

Flash Fiction – Mind

The word is mind. The word limit is 100.

Leonard had waited a full year for his sophomore school visit to the area brain bank. He was, in nontechnical terms, a nerd. His love of science, psychology and the inner workings of the mind had earned him glossy nicknames from his schoolmates when year after year he won the ubiquitous first prize in the science fair.

Leonard had plans. He had his smart phone concealed in his vest pocket to snap pictures.

The brains were all suspended in saline or formaldehyde and had electrodes embedded in them.

He saw it. A human nose growing from one. At last.

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Flash Fiction – Loco

The three rats sat at a table in the cantina drinking tequila.

“You do it first, she’s right over there,” said Pedro.

“You loco, man, the first time she see me she scream!”

The third rat thought a minute and adjusted his sombrero. He took a swig from the bottle, sauntered over to where the señorita danced with a dude.

“Hey, señorita,” he squeeked. Pedro and Roman were snickering and slapping their thighs.

He tugged at her petticoat to talk to her.

“Rat!” she screamed, “kill it!”

He scampered up her leg and hid in her petticoats.

“Just a dance?”

The word is loco. The word limit is 100.

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Flash Fiction – Delusional

Sandra’s hands were moving again. As she stood in front of the full length mirror, she watched them.

First, they touched her face. She stared at them while they traced the contours of her cheekbones, then moved toward her ears feeling the curves and sensuality of each nuance of the shapes.

Her fingertips moved down to the buttons of her nightgown. She watched in horror as they slowly slipped her gown off and she was standing in the nude.

She ran, but the hands went with her outside in the rain.

“Delusional,” the doctor frowned, looking at the straightjacketed young woman.

The word is delusional. The word limit is 100.

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