Monday, December 5, 2011

the worst flash fiction I ever wrote...

This morning I received an email notifying me that a piece of flash fiction I wrote for submission to a literary magazine was declined. This is not a new occurrence as I have written dozens of flash fiction pieces for dozens of literary outlets and they don't always fit what the publisher is looking for. Accepted or not, I am very proud of all of my works, except for one.

This particular piece was born about 15 years ago as an idea for a short film. It came to me while I was riding on a lawn mower and I am pretty sure it was due to the fact that I had not applied enough sunscreen and was not wearing a hat. The idea stuck in my head, though, and to exercise it from my melon, I gave it wings.

Here, published for the general public to view, possibly for the last time ever, is a story called "Demon."

"Nick, please, why? Why should I be the wife who worries about her husband day after day? Why should I be the woman who kisses you goodbye every morning not knowing if that will be our last kiss on earth? Why can't you find satisfaction with a job that comes with a desk? Why Nick, why?”

“Because that's not who I am Sandy. I am a test pilot!”

“You know, Nick, the answer to every question doesn't include the words test pilot.”

“Well for me that is the only answer. It is the core of who I am Sandy.”

“But Nick, I have a bad feeling about this mission. Just once, can't you say no?”

“Sandy, you know I can't. Passing up an assignment is not an option. If I say no to this one they will just get the next guy in line to do it. And then I get to plant myself back at the end of that line and wait. Who knows when I will reach the front of the line again? It could be months before I get a new assignment!”

“And what's wrong with that?! Go to the back of the line! Take your unhurt body and wait here on the ground with the rest of us. Wait for that next assignment with me.”

“Sandy, we've been through this before. I can't be tied to the ground. I belong in the skies. It's why I was born. It's why I have a pulse. It's why I love you and why you love me. If I have to wait for the next assignment you might as well lock me up in a padded room, because I'll go nuts.”

“You mean, you'll go nuts, again.”

“Goddammit don't start, Sandy! What happened back then is in the past. I don't know why it happened, but it did. It was a one time thing that hasn't happened since. I just thank God no one knows about that but you and me.”

“Yea, you and me and half of Sao Paulo.”

“That's in Brazil Sandy! No one in this country knows about it and if you feel any love for me we'll keep it that way.”

“~Excuse me seƱor, you are so cute and I would like to drink champagne from your lap.~”

“I was out of my mind with stress! Just let it go already Sandy!”

“How can I let it go? You were wearing feathers Nick! Bright yellow feathers!”

“It's called a boa Sandy and wearing it made me feel sexy, which is more than I can say about being with you.”

“Oh big test pilot; look at me with lipstick and eye shadow groping wealthy tourists. Ooo La La! Tell me Nick, do all test pilots wear dresses to feel better about themselves?”

“What if I said yes? What if I told you that three inch heels and a skirt with a slit that runs half way up the thigh does it for us? What if I said I like to wear a lacy bra while streaking through the clear morning sky? And what if I cut out pictures from of silver screen sirens from the '30s and '40s so I can paste them in my scrap book? Would that make me less of a man?”

“Wait, you keep a scrap book?”

“It doesn't matter Sandy. You'll never understand who I am and what makes me tick!”

“No, actually, after this conversation, I am pretty sure I know all I need to know about you.”

“Really, Sandy? You stand there with that hideous purse and that discount store belt preaching to me about how I need to change for you. Well let me tell you something sister, its you who needs to change for me!”

“Wow, um, look, Nick, I have had a chance to rethink this whole test pilot thing and I'm starting to think you're right.”

“Really, Sandy?”

“Oh yea. If I were you, I would strap on whatever garter belt feels comfy and head for the wild blue yonder.”


“Sandy, you've made me so happy! You really do understand who I am.”

“No problem stud.”

“Are you going to be here when I get back?”

“Um, actually, I have some things to take care of... you know... stuff... so.... I tell you what. Why don't you take your time getting home tonight? Maybe you and the other, ah, guys should go and grab a drink, or cruise the bars down by the river or something. Don't want you getting too overstressed, now, do we?”

“Sandy, I can't tell you how much I an in love with you right now.”

“Odd, neither can I. You just keep that information deep inside where no one needs to see it.”

“You are the best Sandy. I'll see you later dear.”

“Um, yea... maybe.”