Friday, November 15, 2013

Flash Fiction 4: Flashier, Fictionier

Inscribed in electrons, I present more Flash Fictions from my #FlashFictionFriday series, from that there tweeter.

It's the thought that counts and I appreciate the gifts, really, but what I am supposed to do with seven Hands of Glory?

The bunkers were packed with cigarettes. "Gold-hording Libertarians are kicking themselves now," laughed the SectorLord

Velvet wings whispered between the cold smokestacks of the factory ruins. Moths, searching for puddles, found only bones.

Silence screamed. From upstairs they heard the click of the latch, the groan of hinges as the door opened.

The noise jolted him awake in time to see the old oak topple over. Below in the yard was the biggest pig he'd ever seen.

He mounted the bus steps, handed his ticket to the driver, took a set at the back, and waited. Even in death, he waited.

He watched snails graze in light streaming down through the dome of trees. He too was patient. Night would come soon.

Always digging, dirt on his claws, pinpoint eyes shut against failing soil. A purpose, his reward for having lived well.

I understand it's an ancient and powerful urge, returning whence you were born to lay your eggs. But it's MY head now.

Their noises were getting to him. He'd walled off the bedroom, cooked his meals in the bathroom. How dare they be happy?

His bones bounced along the riverbed, scattered and seperated by the flow. He'd always wanted to see the ocean.

In the right light, the hen was opalescent. Each laid egg was a cosmic egg, a universe in ovo. Made the best omelettes.

"It's like 'Dorian Grey'."
"So you don't get any older..."
"Right."
"...and the souffle?"
"The souffle ages for me."

The tractor's rumble grew louder as it crested the hill. Head down, she worked fast, brushing pollen into each flower.

Earth's tilt causes the changing seasons. Hades, in his mad pursuit of Persephone, sideswiped the axis in his chariot.

The Change came every fullmoon. Terrible urges, body warping. Smell, hearing, all gone. Sparky hated being a Wereman.

Friday, November 8, 2013

A Good Thought

"Never confuse comedy for subversion." - somebody somewhere at sometime.  I can't seem to find a citation for this quote, or even a quote like it, but someone smarter than me must have said it once.  It's a pretty good thing to always have tucked into the back of your brain, I think, especially how a lot of the media and culture we consume seems to think that simply winking at the audience while something deplorable is going on is the same thing as activism.  Having a bunch of over the top racism, sexism, homophobia, etc, isn't PLAYING with the tropes, buddy; at best it's lazy ass writing, and at worst, it's just straight up racism, sexism, and homophobia.