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Festive Flash Fiction Day 23: Xe and We — A Love Story

Today we cover both W and X, and I offer proof-positive of the lengths to which I will go to avoid using ‘xmas’ as a word. Chemistry puns… whee!

Happy Christmas Eve Eve!

Xe and We: A Love Story

There’s nothing like a winter walk. Wading through snow, trail of footprints behind. And the best walks?

Are with Xenon.

We’ve been friends for years. We first met, I think, in middle school. When other kids were whispering, Xenon was on my side. When no one else would joke with me, Xenon was always a gas. And when I wised up — when I really understood — that Xenon existed, things changed. High school was easier, for sure. Xenophobic friends were easier to ignore. And all those wild office parties where I would’ve wandered like a weirdo while they all xeroxed their wazoos? Not with Xenon there.

These days, Xe offers perspective. When I’m worried about my woes, or wondering about all that is wrong with the world, I remember how long Xenon’s been around. Xe’s seen it all, man. Mind you, Xenon can also put you to sleep, but you always waken refreshed.

So, as the year winds down, I walk in the woods, wisps of mist in the willows. And with me? Xenon. Noble to the end, wreathing white light into the new year.

***

For the month of December, my goal is to post a piece of festive flash fiction here to the blog every day. Twenty-five stories, each 250 words or fewer — a little fictional festivity to brighten the darkest month of the year. For readers, I offer these stories as a moment of peace within a hectic month of busy. And keep your eyes peeled for the odd flash of fiction from writer friends!

More soon…

~kc

Festive Flash Fiction Day 22: Violet’s Vacation

A venture in vague vision…

Violet’s Vacation

Violet was vexed.

She’d been told that a vacation in Venice would be a once-in-a-lifetime experience — the perfect way to spend the holiday season. Yet somehow, the venue seemed so much dryer than she’d expected. And — warmer. She’d already had a violent encounter with some sort of steam vent, and really? After so vast a voyage, she was feeling very vulnerable.

Still, as she stepped from the vehicle, she was grateful they’d provided her with the visored sun-suit. It contained some sort of interior ventilation, thankfully, and when a person had worked so hard to keep her skin vivid and unblemished, it was lovely that the vacation planners had taken her clearly-voiced vision to heart.

Violet prided herself on being a venturesome traveller, having viewed a variety of exotic vistas. She’d visited Vancouver. Vermont. Even Venezuela! But there was no doubt the vicinity around the vessel was verifiably less verdant than she’d expected. She had, of course, heard tell of a vitriolic volcano in Italy, but this — surely these vile, vinegary vapours could not be Etna? Vi looked around vaguely, but the vexatious vibrations made visibility very difficult.

Reaching into her valise, Violet rifled around vigorously for the advertising voucher. She’d been vigilant in her vacation planning, but a wave of vertigo swept over her as she viewed the verbiage one final time. Vivid vision had never been her strong point but surely the destination had been verified as Venetian…

…not Venusian?

***

More soon…

~kc

Festive Flash Fiction Day 21: Christmastime at the U Zoo

This one is to read aloud to the wee’uns. The dude below is a uakari, who didn’t fit into the stocking but is still festive in his seasonal colours. A Happy Winter Solstice to U all!

Christmastime at the U Zoo

You’ll never guess who’s inside the sock
That hangs by the fireplace under the clock
An umbrella bird who loves to talk
You’ll see him if you sleepwalk

You’ll never guess who’s under the tree
Sheep and giraffe and sweet peccaries
Ungulates all, with toes more than three
Unwrap them and you’ll see

You’ll never guess who’s dining with you
Urial sheep and weird urubu
Holiday feasting with someone gnu
It’s Christmastime at the U-Zoo!

***

More soon…

~kc

Festive Flash Fiction Day 20: Tess and the Turkey

WARNING: The tomfoolery in this post is transcendent. [I…I can’t seem to help myself…]

Also? Tough-talking private investigator Tess Trowel is back, with a final solution to The Confidential Case, and a brand new tricky task to think through!

Tess and the Turkey

“You look troubled, Tess Trowel,” Toby said.

Toby’s my tenographer. Other ‘tecs have regular stenos, but here at Tess Trowel Investigations, Toby’s a ten. And he types a treat.

“I feel tense.”

Toby teared up. “It’s the tragedy of Mr. Cane, isn’t it?”

“Finding Candy Cane hanging in that tree wasn’t terrific, Toby. And having to tidy up the tinsel? Terrible.”

Toby tissued his tears away. “Would another case take your thoughts off the trauma?”

“Totally. What’ve you got?”

Toby held up a file. “Missing turkey. Complainant is Farmer Truther.”

“A Truther turkey, eh? I’ll take it!”

On the farm, Truther looked traumatized. “It’s terrorists, I tell ya,” he trumpeted. “They’ve taken my turkey in broad daylight.”

The trail looked tepid, but I was undeterred. “This a picture of the turkey, Mister Truther?”

It was terrifying. I shifted my toothpick.

“His name is Trump,” declared the farmer, confirming my worst fears.

“Your turkey has a toupee?” I spluttered.

“No — that’s just the way he wears his wattle.”

I narrowed my eyes at Truther, taking in the traces on his trousers.

“You’re trying my patience, you twit!” I thundered. “That’s blood. Farmer Truther, I theorize you terminated your own turkey, and faked the theft to avoid taxation. Time to pay the tab for your treachery.”

Back in the office, Toby tapped the tabletop thoughtfully. “Tess, you’re a testament to tenacity. You untangle every case and come away with something tangible.”

I smacked my lips and took another bite. “That’s true.”

And in this case…?

Tasty.

***

More soon…

~kc

Festive Flash Fiction Day 19: The Small Green Snake

This wee poignant tale is the second Flash Fiction entry penned by Jacquie Pearce. Jacquie writes fiction for children and teens, as well as very short poetry and prose for adults. She can often be found wandering Vancouver, collecting photos and story ideas. You can find out about all the cool books she has written HERE, and you can follow her on twitter @jacquieink.

The Small Green Snake

Once there was a garden with a magic fountain at its centre. A father carried his daughter to the garden, hoping the fountain would heal her withered legs. The girl drank from the fountain, then lay down beside it to sleep.

“You must wait here by the garden gate,” the garden caretaker told the father. “Whatever you do, do not interrupt the girl’s sleep.”

While the girl slept, a tiny green snake emerged from the grass and slithered close to her face. It lifted its head, and its tiny tongue gently flicked the girl’s ear. The girl smiled in her sleep, tilting her head as if listening to the snake’s whisper.

At the garden gate, the father saw the small green snake by his daughter’s face. He forgot the caretaker’s words and rushed into the garden. Fearing the snake would bite, he picked up a stick and killed it. The girl woke up with a start and smiled at her father.

“I dreamed my legs were strong,” she said. “I dreamed that I could run.”

It was then that the father noticed his daughter’s legs. No longer withered and twisted, they were now thick and straight. Joyful, he lifted the girl to her feet. She stood on her own and walked out of the garden beside her father, limping a little, as if the healing had not quite completed.

It was not long afterward that the fountain seemed to lose its magic. No one noticed the dead body of a small green snake.

***

For the month of December, my goal is to post a piece of festive flash fiction here to the blog every day. Twenty-five stories, each 250 words or fewer — a little fictional festivity to brighten the darkest month of the year. For readers, I offer these stories as a moment of peace within a hectic month of busy. And once in a while, as with today’s entry, you’ll get a flash of fiction from one of my writer friends!

More soon…

~kc

Festive Flash Fiction Day 18: A Ruined Relationship

WooHOO — we’re entering the final stretch, here. I have to go shopping tonight, so flashing the funny tonight in my stead is the marvellous writer Carol Garvin, who will steer us through a roasted relationship.

Thank you, Carol!

A Ruined Relationship
Rosslyn bent over, hands on knees, gasping for breath. Running regularly hadn’t rebuilt her stamina as her husband had suggested it would. She wanted to lose weight, to look better for Christmas, so each day she tried to run a few minutes longer, pushing her limits, but she hadn’t yet made it all the way ‘round the block. Half way there and her legs were rubbery. Sweat ran in rivulets between her breasts but she daren’t turn back. Richard would tease her relentlessly if she gave up.

He had ridiculed her earlier attempt at a fitness regime, especially the dieting part. He refused to eat what he called her rabbit food, so she kept preparing his usual rations. This afternoon there was a rib roast in the oven. She really needed to hurry. Richard liked his meat rare.

But her breathing wasn’t easing. The heart rate monitor. Oh! So far above the recommended target! Just a little rest. She reclined on the grass and pressed her fist into the relentless stitch in her side. There was no relief. Rosslyn reached for her water bottle but it slipped from her grasp and rolled onto the roadway.

As she lost consciousness, her last remnant of thought was one of regret for the rage Richard would express at the overdone roast.

Instead, when he learned the hospital hadn’t been able to resuscitate Rosslyn, Richard made a rich red wine gravy and invited their neighbour, Rita, to join him for dinner.

***

Carol Garvin writes fiction, non-fiction and the occasional bad poem from her rural home in BC’s Fraser Valley. In what is laughingly referred to as her spare time, she indulges her other interests which include photography, gardening, reading, a little painting and music, and all aspects of the purebred dog fancy, especially when it involves Labradors and Shelties. You can find her blog HERE, and she’s on twitter @CarolJGarvin and on FB as Carol.Garvin.96

***

For the month of December, my goal is to post a piece of festive flash fiction here to the blog every day. Twenty-five stories, each 250 words or fewer — a little fictional festivity to brighten the darkest month of the year. For readers, I offer these stories as a moment of peace within a hectic month of busy. And as you can see today, keep your eyes peeled for the odd flash of fiction from writer friends!

More soon…

~kc

Festive Flash Fiction Day 17: Quick Quiz

Quick Quiz…

What is the quotidian quality of a Canadian rainforest in December?

Queerly quadrangular?

Perhaps.
Containing a questionable quintet?

Possibly.

But the quintessence?

It is quite…

quite…

Quiet

***

More soon…

~kc

Festive Flash Fiction Day 16: Pietr the Potent

Crazy day today. Holiday traffic and a giant tree that fell across 4 lanes of highway blocking my way home. Made it in the end!

While I’ll be back tomorrow with Q, today’s story is courtesy of writer, mama and brilliant bookseller Sarah Bagshaw. Enjoy!

Pietr the Potent

The donkey knew he was in a bad situation when the man loaded that heavily pregnant woman onto his back before dawn.

Of course, bad is all relative. It was bad the night he tried to break into the wizard’s house and his hissing of “Turn Key! Turn Key!” at the doorknob resulted in his present physical manifestation.

He was never very good at that spell.

And bad went to worse when he got hauled off by an ostler and rented out as a pack animal. Turned out “Hee Haw” wasn’t an effective communication pattern, so he’d been at this job for a while.

The census was forcing this couple to travel to Bethlehem and he was the designated beast of burden. She was going to end up having that baby all over his backside. This was NOT what he signed up for when he applied to go to Magical University.

When the lady spoke about a bright vision and how she was sure to be carrying the child of a god his ears pricked up. Why that scheming so and so… He’s done it!

Rumours had been swirling around the University that the yearly challenge had been won by Pietr the Damned. He claimed he would make someone believe they’d seen a god. Randy bugger, he obviously took advantage of it. They were going to have to re-name him Pietr the Potent.

But the donkey’s claim to fame — Paul the Pony? And, to top it off, everyone will think this baby is the child of a god. Really, could it get any worse?

***

For the month of December, my goal is to post a piece of festive flash fiction here to the blog every day. Twenty-five stories, each 250 words or fewer — a little fictional festivity to brighten the darkest month of the year. For readers, I offer these stories as a moment of peace within a hectic month of busy. And writers? As you can see from this Donkey’s Tail, I’ll feature any flash fiction you’d like to share!

More soon…

~kc

Festive Flash Fiction Day 15: Orange

At last! A piece that recognizes the TRUE colour of Christmas! [Come on… what do you find in the toe of your stocking every year?]

This flash fiction is the first in this series by the brilliant writer/illustrator Lee Edward Fodi.

Orange

Wrapping a finger around a curl of her carrot-top hair, Dahlia cast a gaze at the spectacular evening sky. It seemed as if it was on fire, streaked with brilliant cadmium and thin ochre clouds.

She trudged down the steps of the porch, its tangerine paint long since blistered away by the relentless sun. Her eyes lingered upon the long-expired copper-coloured fields as they glowed in the last of the day’s fiery light. She ambled past the row of drooping peach trees; the setting sun made their dry branches gleam like burning brands.

At last she came to the river. It had dwindled to a trickle now, but what was left of it shone like a streak of lava. Maybe this is what death is, Dahlia thought. At the very end, just before it erupts into a fiery inferno, it is a beautiful vista, so deceivingly bursting and blooming with the colour of life.

***

Lee Edward Fodi is an author, illustrator, and educator. Which is a fancy way of saying he’s a daydreaming expert. You can find him at leefodi.com and on twitter @LeeFodi.

***

For the month of December, my goal is to post a piece of festive flash fiction here to the blog every day. Twenty-five stories, each 250 words or fewer — a little fictional festivity to brighten the darkest month of the year. For readers, I offer these stories as a moment of peace within a hectic month of busy. And as you can see with this entry, I’m happily featuring flash fiction other writers have offered to share!

More soon…

~kc

Festive Flash Fiction Day 14: Naughty vs Nice

Keep your eyes peeled — a couple of guest posts are in the offing this week. I’m excited! But for today, the quintessential argument…

Naughty versus Nice

Yo – Nicey-nice! How you doin’?

I’m perfectly fine, thank you. Nifty of you to ask!

No way, nerd. You ain’t pinning that nonsense on me. I’m only into negging, Niña.

Now, don’t be noxious, Naughty.

Nuh-huh, that’s not my name.

Naughty is TOO your name. You’re my non-reputable twin — I should know.

Not any more it ain’t. Call me Not-T, yeah?

I can, but when I do, it’ll sound the same. Naughty versus Not-T. No difference orally.

Nyuk nyuk, you said ‘oral’.

Yes I did. Meaning ‘when said aloud’. Now, why don’t you say something nice for a change? Notice my niveous complexion, for example.

Niveous? That’s like a cross between hideous and nervous — so yeah that nails it. Negged!

What does that nonsense even mean?

It’s an insult cloaked in a backhanded compliment, ya nupsun.

Well, niveous means snowy white, so you may pretend all you want that you insulted me, when actually? Not.

Hey, no nutcracking.

I wouldn’t think of it. Now stop noodling. We’re notetaking for Santa.

Nobody believes in that old noddypeak anymore.

Don’t be such a nihilist, Naughty. Numbers don’t lie. My Netherlands numerals are looking particularly neat.

Negative reinforcement, ninny. I have Black Pete in Naarden at the nonce.

Naturally you’d see it that way. But when Santa sees these numbers, he’ll know naughtiness is at a nadir this year.

Your numenism is nuts, Miss Nice, but you do have a nose for news.

Naughty — did you just say something NICE?

NOOOOOOooooooooooo………

***

For the month of December, my goal is to post a piece of festive flash fiction here to the blog every day. Twenty-five stories, each 250 words or fewer — a little fictional festivity to brighten the darkest month of the year. For readers, I offer these stories as a moment of peace within a hectic month of busy. And writers? If you’d like to join me, I’ll feature any flash fiction you’d like to share!

More soon…

~kc