Gee Whillickers

Nicely done. How to put so much into so few words. That's what makes flash fiction such an interesting medium. I'll admit, I wasn't sure how this was going to end. I was almost half expecting him to cave and agree to meet, though I'm awfully glad he didn't Thanks for writing this.

I have a bit of a confession to make. I wrote the first iteration of this quite a while back as a rough first chapter after drafting a quick outline for a story idea I had. I left it sit since but something reminded me of it the other day and I pulled it out. I spent a (very) small amount of time rewriting it so it could stand alone to some degree and I thought I'd throw it into the lake and see if it floated. Cole, you were perceptive. That's why it sounded like a first chapter to a longer story. I haven't actually written any more yet but I did massage the old outline a bit (read: rip it to shreds while shaking my head aghast) so we'll see. Gee.

Craig looked down at the dog. The dog's look of bewilderment faded with its last breath and it lay still. Craig re-holstered his pistol and turned away pretending to feel nothing. No. He wasn't that far gone. Not yet. He stopped and looked again. Amazingly, after all this time, the dog had the dirty remains of a nylon collar around his neck. Once he was loved. Once he probably loved his owner, his family. Now, like Craig, he was just trying to survive. Craig's eyes widened slightly as he realized he recognized the dog, the collar. It was, or rather once had been, Mrs. Klein's Golden Retriever from down the street. Before he taught himself to shoot Craig was almost killed by a German Shepherd near a warehouse much like this one. He had been lucky and managed to kick in just the right place. That's when he taught himself to shoot. Almost right after he taught himself to stitch himself and apply antiseptic. Thank god for books. The internet was long dead. That was eight months ago. Two weeks after the Disappearance. The first time he had ventured out past his block. He had had little choice. The power had been out for days and there was no more fresh food. The canned stuff and packaged stuff almost gone. He went into the warehouse and found what he was looking for. After opening the box and then opening one of the boxes inside that one and finally opening the plastic package, he had it in his hand. A Twinkie. Still edible. The wonders of preservatives. He pulled the candle he had been saving out of his pocket and stuck it in the twinkie. He hesistated a moment before lighting it. What did he have to celebrate? Being alive would have to do. He sang Happy Birthday to himself, blew out the candle after making a mighty wish, and took a bite. Fourteen years old today. Yes, he was sure. Battery operated watches with dates were everywhere. It wasn't hard to keep track. Craig shook his head and forced the depression that was starting to creep up on him away. No, he had to keep hopeful. He had always been a smart kid. He knew about Occam's Razor. He knew about probability. Out of six billion people the chances that five billion, nine hundred and ninety nine million, ninety hundred and ninety nine thousand, nine hundred and ninety nine could vanish one night without a trace leaving thirteen year old Craig Jamison and only Craig Jamison sleeping in his bedroom while wearing one dirty sock were remote. Ridiculously remote. Despite no evidence to the contrary in eight months. He chewed and swallowed the last of the confection and stood up, licking his fingers. A noise back at the doorway. Dammit! He cursed himself for his inattention, managed to pull out his pistol, ensure a round was chambered and the safety off when a shadow appeared blocking the sunshine. Another boy rounded the corner and stopped suddenly, a pistol in his own hand half raised before freezing. Craig was sure the expression on the strange boy's face exactly matched his own. Utter shock, obviously, along with bewilderment, uncertainty, and, most of all, absolutely most of all, overwhelming relief. Maybe birthday wishes can come true.

Oh god, how would he make it through the day, nevermind the rest of the year. Excellent flash that brings out nicely a rather painful experience that most of us worried about but hopefully didn't experience. Gee.

I went back and read the whole series. Nice set of flashes for sure. I kind of agree with you though about flash being stand-alone and if there's more to say making it a short story. Still, these were fun and well done. Gee.

Sounds like it worked then. I wanted to leave what was written on the other side undetermined. Obviously I have my own ideas but it really could be any number of things, and I'm not sure it matters to the story in the end. If it ever turns into a short story then things would have to be a wee bit different.

The Grocery List **** Sweetie, Please pick up the following on your way home from school: milk butter ground beef seasoning salt ketchup onion soup mix Thanks, Mom. Eric glanced at the contents of the list before looking up at the back of the boy heading out of 8th grade math. He shook his long black hair out of his eyes. "Kyle! You dropped something." Eric watched Kyle's surprised stop, the boy's drooped shoulders making him appear even smaller than he was. Kyle turned around slowly, red faced, apparently at being addressed by a member of the wrestling team. Eric waited as Kyle tentatively made his way towards him. He glanced at the other side of the dropped piece of paper and time slowed down. Two things happened at once. The meaning of the scratched out message on the other side of the grocery list sunk into Eric's brain, and Kyle suddenly stopped once again, staring in horror as Eric looked at the paper with wide eyes. Kyle's blush vanished only to be replaced by a sickly white color, in stark contrast to his red hair. Eric thought he looked like he might faint, he was frozen with his hand half out towards the grocery list. An eternity passed. Neither boy moved. Neither boy quite knew what to do. Kyle's reaction told Eric that the message was his, and that it was true, or at least had been before it was scratched out. Eric had read once about some science experiment that showed how people actually made decisions long seconds before their conscious mind thought they did. He pretended to himself for an instant that he was undecided, but he already knew what he was going to do. His coach was going to kill him. His dad too. He hoped they'd understand later. "C'mon Kyle. Let's go buy your groceries." He steered Kyle towards the exit door with a gentle hand on his back. Kyle spoke for the first time. "D... Don't you have a meet?" "Nope." They had almost made it out of school when the Coach's yell stopped them. "Little Rabbit! Where the hell are you going?! Get your butt in the locker room and get changed!" Eric looked back. "Sorry Coach. I gotta help McAllister with his grocery shopping." He tried to pour meaning into his heavy stare back at the Coach. It must have worked, at least a little. The Coach's mouth dropped open, then closed again, and he stared back at Eric with a whole host of expressions on his face, but he didn't say another word. They walked out into the bright afternoon towards the supermarket. Sometimes, thought Eric, helping someone with their grocery list was the most important thing you can do. Besides, Kyle was awfully cute.

Well done. Thanks very much for that. Gee

Great story Bruin. I have to admit though, I guessed that it was a dog by the second paragraph, though I can't quite pin down the reason. That didn't take anything away from it though, it rang as so very true to life being a person that has been around dogs almost my whole adult life. Great job, can't wait for the next one! Gee

There are stories that I read that are entertaining, moving, thoughtful, surprising, and more. Every now and then I'm lucky enough to stumble onto a story that manages to combine more than one of those elements into something really special. The wonder of your stories, Cole, is that you manage to combine all of those elements, and more, on a consistent basis throughout all of your work. So what does that leave me to say about this one? One that has surpassed even the excellence of your other stories, many of which are my favorite stories anywhere, on or off the internet. A perhaps peculiar measure I use to judge the value and impact to myself of a story I'm reading is my emotional reaction when I realize I have only one more chapter to read and then there will be no more. On that scale, you broke the scale. I had to order a new one. Amazon.com will be shipping it shortly. I'll be expecting restitution. Thanks, Cole, for a wonderful tale and characters that are more human than should be possible for words on a screen. Gee

Wonderful story. What kind of wedge did you use to jam 50 pounds of emotion into a 2 pound story? Nice trick.

Not Again ?A horse?? asked Matt. ?Named Morse,? answered John with a nod. Matt thought for a second. ?That's the source?? John failed to suppress a grin and started to answer, ?Of cour....? ?Don't do it John, or I'll have to hurt you,? Matt said with a threatening grin. John feigned surpise. ?You'd use force?? A wadded up piece of paper hit John's left eyebrow and sailed on over his head, landing on a lab bench. ?You're sure though? It comes from horses? And it's transferable to humans?? John answered, ?Yes. But it only affects male horses. It's transferred through direct contact, and it can only infect male humans. It attaches itself to the Y chromosome.? ?Oh god.? ?I know. It's a PR nightmare.? ?And it suppresses a person's immune system?? asked Matt. ?Yes.? ?You know what this means, don't you? When the press gets hold of this? People will panic. Within two minutes it's going to be dubbed 'Horse Aids.'? John protested, ?But it's not even a retrovirus.? ?It doesn't matter. The press just won't care. You know, they really have no remorse.? John saw his chance, and this time finished his answer. ?You're right, of course.?

What I'm finding I really like about these stories is that the whole is greater than the sum of the parts. Each of them stands, on their own, as a wonderful and thought provoking slice of life, with more than meets the eye. But put them together, compare and contrast the messages, and they add up to even more. Well done. Keep up the great work. Gee

Thanks guys, and gals. I'm glad you liked it. I actually have one more written but I don't want to appear out of nowhere and suddenly start plastering my flash fictions all over the place like I know what I'm doing.

Caught ?God Jimmy, how could you embarrass us like this? Just what exactly were you thinking? You know how important this campaign is to your dad. If word gets out about this before the election, it could be suicide for his platform!? Jimmy sat on a hard wooden rocking chair in his living room. He didn't dare allow it to move, so he was sitting there with every muscle tense. His parents sat together on the couch across from him, holding hands, double teaming him with their lecture. Jimmy kept his head down. He didn't want them to see his angry eyes and red face. His dad continued, ?I can't believe you'd do this to us Jimmy. Especially now. Thank God you were at least using a condom! I can't imagine what the press would do if word got out that you caught some disease.? That was more than Jimmy could take. He looked up, his eyes flashing, ?That's all you fucking care about isn't it?! You're damned election campaign and looking good for your stupid voters! You drag me to all these stupid rallies, these so-called community forums, and expect me to be your little angel! Now you're saying that if I got sick you'd be more worried about how it would look than anything else!! Well, screw that! I'm not going to any more of your stupid campaign functions, and I couldn't care less about your stupid platform! You don't even know me do you? Either of you? You don't give a shit about me or who I am, do you?? ?Jimmy! That will do, young man! I didn't mean it like that, of course we care. But, as long as you are living under our roof and eating our food you will do as you're told. We must appear together, as one family. There is nothing more important than this right now. No more arguing.? ?Fine,? Jimmy replied while standing up, pushing off the chair with such violence that it rocked backwards once before falling over forwards, the back of the chair hitting the back of his knees. ?If that's how it is, then I guess I won't be living under your roof anymore!? With that he strode out of the front door, slamming it behind him. Jumping on his bicycle he began pedaling furiously. He had to get away from them. He began pedaling hard towards his girlfriend Jennifer's house. She probably had enough time now to get home. She had left in a hurry after madly getting dressed and rushing down the stairs when his dads caught them in bed. Maybe her parents would take him in for a while. Maybe they wouldn't be quite so narrow minded.