Category: Flash

Flash: Date a Necromancer

Erin Penn

Image courtesy of Somkiat Fakmee at FreeDigitalPhotos.net

“You need to stop leaving dead bodies in my kitchen.”

My cat looks up at me. “Merp?”

“No, not you.” I pick up Agent Tom and pet his stripped fur. “I want all the mice to be dead and birds to stop shitting on my car. You are perfect.” I kiss his head and brush my cheek against the top of his head while staring daggers at my boyfriend.

Looking up from his textbook, Nathan holds his spoon halfway between his bowl of cereal and his mouth, dripping milk. “What?”

I glare at the severed hand on the waxpaper and the intestines in the mason jar sitting on my side of the table and then back at him.

He finishes putting the spoon in his mouth, chews, and swallows. “What?”

“Oh for the love of G– clean up after yourself!” I let Agent Tom escape my arms before turning to get the hot bread out of the toaster. Muttering under my breath, I butter the toast. “Date a necromancer, my mom says. People are always dying, he will never be out of a job, she says. No mention of the…” I switch to a much louder voice, “…constant body parts just dropped everywhere!”

I drag my chair to his side of the table and shove his book aside to make room for my toast and grapefruit.

“Wait, what, …” Nathan moves the textbook before the shift flips the pages. “… Anita, give me a second.”

I roll my eyes, but let him move things without any further intervention, though the body parts on the other side of the table remain in place. “Idiot.” I accuse him affectionately.

“Psycho,” he replies, giving me a half-smile and nudging my leg with his before going back to his studies. Finals are in two weeks.

(words 301; first published 3/15/2020)

Flash: Rafella de Sable (Part 3)

Erin Penn

The challenge with game mechanics is creating a character with a history to match. I wanted a character who was (1) a noble, (2) a thief, and (3) a magic user.

*** Rafella de Sable (Part 3) – Wild Child

And so he did, only this time the miscarriage killed the mother as well. Andre refused to eat with his father thereafter and had nothing to do with the two children that he knew on some level were not his. Bereft of both mother and father, ignored by her grandfather in all but her schooling and then held the strictest standards, Rafaela began to run wild outside the house. In the house, she was the model child, trying to gain attention by good deeds and behavior. But the eldest child was already engaged to be married to an ancient line (the grandfather wanted to keep that line pure in case the eldest child ended up inheriting). The tutor, though loving a student as good with languages as Rafaela, had to put the last touches on his finest product. The middle two girls were wondering what marriages were in store for them. (The grandfather needed money, so he was going to sell them off to the highest bidders. )  And what little energy was left in the house was aimed at the Heir – Andre de Sablehart the Fifth, a sickly, weak child. The boy remained the center of attention for the house and was spoiled rotten, in the true meaning of the phrase.

While running wild, Rafaela caught the eye of a thief in her neighborhood. The old townhouse was in the in-between area, where the new rich can buy the first of their titles and the old rich can sell the last of their possessions. Charismatic and welcomed in most of houses, Rafaela was a treat for the second-story man. He taught her the tricks of the trade while she cased houses for him. Initially he just brought the information up in conversation, but eventually he took her into his confidence for real – about the same time he took her into his bed. She was ten. But all good things must come to an end, and the old guildmaster started making mistakes. Seeing the way the wind was blowing and being high up enough in the guild to have to choose sides in the upcoming power change, the thief introduced her to the three possible next guildmasters, turned her over to the guild teachers as an apprentice and booked out of town. Rafaela is forever grateful to both the thief and the guild.

When she was nine, she attended her oldest sister’s wedding. The girl was about seventeen. Being a second son, the boy had tried adventuring to make his fortune. He succeeded enough for de Sablehart to consider him a good prospect, if one keeps in mind his lineage. After the marriage, the couple moved into the Sablehart manor. But at the wedding, Rafaela joined the other children running everywhere. She kept in mind her training from her street friend and went into every corner of the house. Once she was caught exploring, tried to wiggle her way out physically and for the first time of her life did not succeed in her squirming. Falling back on her last resort she managed to charm her way out of it. That person was intrigued and investigated enough to find out the child was too intelligent for her own good, able to do any slight of hand magic trick if shown how to do it once and was absolutely adorable in her willingness to please adults.

He bought her before the wedding feast had finished. Not that it was called that, but marriage contracts were signed. Enough money traded hands that the grandfather no longer had to sell his other two assets cheaply (not that it was ever going to be cheap, but now he could hold out for titles and age appropriate grooms). The contract was long and complicated, as the buyer wanted a magic user of some sort and was willing to pay for all training. The brideholder was to find the instructors for this to happen and provide lodging for the same.

It took de Sablehart awhile to find a mage with enough knowledge to teach, who didn’t want to play hermit or join an academy, and who needed money. So, while Rafaela does not have the best mage in the world as her instructor, she did learn magic. Her teacher was an illusionist, a broken man dealing with more tragedy (in his opinion) then one man should have ever faced. With his need to escape reality, Rafaela was able to get him addicted to a drug she had access to through the thieves’ guild and being his supplier, manipulated the man unmercifully.

Her comings and goings were no longer questioned. She merrily switched time between the guild, the etiquette teacher and the mage. And she discovered her basic nature. She needed to prove herself. Realizing she would never be able to do that to her grandfather or the man she called father, she is driven to prove herself against nature – the very thing that seemed to have it in for the family. She loves court intrigue, even in a small backwater town like she lives in, as it challenges her mind. She loves missions from the guild, as it forces her physically to limits and the pass-fail option is very obvious. And most of all she loves illusionist magic, partially to see if she can really fool people in what they think is real and partially for the rush of raw chaos through her body that threatens to consume it even as she forces the magic into submission.

(Words 921, first written for game 9/23/2005; first published 3/8/2020)

Flash: A Single Rose

Erin Penn

Image courtesy of Pixomar at FreeDigitalPhotos.net

“Score!” Rashawn pumped his fists in the air upon seeing the Valentine’s Day candy had been marked down by half. One rose bud and several rose petals fell onto the cement floor. Horror quickly followed the initial triumph as all three guys stared at the strewn red.

“Um, I better take them.”

Rashawn quickly handed over the surviving flowers to Bobby. “Yeah, … thanks.”

The red hearts covered in silk, cellophane, and cardboard presented limited options, but enough to bring the boys to a standstill. “Maybe…” “Nah, doesn’t she like…?” “Stupid diet vegan …”

Bobby plucked the smallest heart available, offering only four pieces but each containing dark chocolate, coconut, or both. “I think with the bear, I can do this and a single rose.” He looked over the sorry bouquet one more time. “That will leave five good roses.”

He smiled widely at Doug, his eyes sparkling. “One for each year you have been dating Stephanie.”

“And if I pick up something from the Jewelry aisle…” The wide reciever’s eyes went unfocused.

“Something real small like earrings, but will match another piece for her birthday next month after your next paycheck. You can put it aside on layaway.” Bobby dropped his head further down. “Aquamarine, I think that is the birthstone. Get her something with an elephant or aquamarine gem of some sort. Oh, and write a poem down. By hand, not that card crap.”

Doug’s green eyes grew round. “Eiffel, you are going in my speed dial when I’m at college.”

“Frigging absolutely amazing.” Rashawn lifted the largest heart off the shelf. “How did you not get a girlfriend before now, bud?”

Bobby shrugged his response before putting a hand on Rashawn’s choice. “These are dark chocolates, Ami likes milk chocolates.” He kicked a foot at the lowest shelf. “This one, idiot.”

“Jerk, I knew that.” Dropping his initial choice, Rashawn reached for the slightly smaller and cheaper option. “I knew that.”

“You did not” Douglas ragged him.

“Shut up.” Rashawn frowned angerly at them, before breaking out laughing. “Yeah, you’re right Second String. Not a clue.”

Heading to the jewelry counter for the last purchase, Rashawn turned around and walked backward to talk to Bobby. “So how come you know my girl wants better than me boyo?”

Bobby rolled his eyes behind the bangs half-hiding his face. “Turn right.” Rashawn quickly glanced over his shoulder before turning right to follow Douglas.

“Well?” Rashawn raised an eyebrow.

“Dude, crew party.” Ami was a fixture in high school drama and musicals, often dragging Rashawn in as an extra. Bobby worked sets, mostly the construction and painting which could be done after sport practices; anything to delay going home a little longer. Closing night parties involved cake, chips, hot dogs, candy of all sorts and some drinks, none officially alcoholic.

Rashawn pictured Ami carefully peeling a Kiss before popping it in her mouth, staring at him with intent and invitation. He stumbled a bit. “I’m an idiot.”

“I said that. And stop.”

Rashawn stopped, then turned around to watch Douglas venture into the glass and metal area, the tired lady behind the counter perking up when he made a beeline to the pricier section with the good pieces. “Better him than me.”

“Amen.” Bobby affirmed.

Series – Lonely Teddy Bear

  1. Lonely Teddy Bear (2/16/2020)
  2. A Single Rose (3/1/2020)

(words 545; first published 3/1/2020)

Writing Exercise: Start at the End

Erin Penn

Photo by Daniel Lincoln on Unsplash – Adjusted by Erin Penn

Have you ever read a story out of order? Sometimes authors lead with the end of the story and the mystery is how the person ended up in that situation. “Dude, where’s my car?” and “The Hangover” are just two recent movie examples where people wake up after a night of debauchery wondering what happened to them and have to backtrack the night.

For writing, often a writer will drop readers in the middle of the action and in the second chapter backtracks a couple hours or days and fill in the backstory once the reader is hooked.

Today’s writing exercise is to create an out-of-order flash. Normally, this would be frowned on because the flash medium is too short for backstory and timeline confusion. But breaking the rules to learn a new skill is okay.

Often when setting up a story in this manner, the first action is set in present tense and the remembrance portion is written in past tense. When the action catches up to present, the verb tense returns to present tense.

Example starts: “I stopped digging when the hole was deep enough.” “Blood is not my color, but at least it was washing out.” “The hangover wasn’t bad until I moved my head into the sunlight. When I opened my eyes, I realized it wasn’t sunlight.”

Remember the mystery is how the person got from a “normal” state to their present craziness when writing timelines out of order. This focus keeps the reader on the hook until the end.

WRITING EXERCISE: Write out three things that will happen in a flash in time order, and then write the flash with #3 as the first piece of information presented.

***

My Attempt

Flash Title: Too Big
I stopped digging the hole when it was deep enough. Mud covered me from head to toe which covered the blood. I hoped the mess would wash out, but burning everything remained an option. I had a stack of wood under a lean-to close to the house from clearing underbrush this summer which would provide a good firestarter. I didn’t want to run around starkers at home, but I’ve done that before chasing kids when I was younger and fitter and the young escape artists were slippery from their baths. Somehow the clothes would be taken care of before I went inside.

I wasn’t tracking evidence inside my home.

I guess I should start at the beginning.

Yesterday was normal. Wake up, take the kids to school, drop the spouse off at work, run errands, do the laundry at home – walking the dog between loads and picking up after the kids and setting up for dinner and paying bills and the hindered of other tasks needed to keep a house of six people alive. I work weekends while Samantha works weekdays, that way someone is always home with the kids. It does mean the two of us don’t spend time together much, but considering number five is on the way, we do spend enough time together for some things.

Then I got a call from school. Mardi had gone missing with two other children off the playground. I don’t remember getting to the school, but the time between me hanging up the phone and signing in at the office was four minutes. The school is five miles away.

She was still missing when I got there, police were arriving behind me. One of them may have been following me for speeding. Don’t know, don’t really care, but I didn’t get a ticket for it. The two other missing kids were eleven year-old girls, dark hair, dark skin, just like my Mardi. She takes after her mother but has my high cheekbones and narrow nose from my Native American ancestors. The two other girls were also mixed races.

The police didn’t like that pattern at all.

Well, long-story short, since this story should be about 500 words. The police have the bodies of the human traffickers. Well, the low-level guys.

Their boss is too big to fail.

The clothes burned fine once they caught fire, and Sam hosed me down once I got out of the backwoods. Not my woods, mind, the woods owned by the guy too big to fail. One of my buds who wasn’t able to help me today already is calling in an anonymous tip about a suspected body being ditched.

Too-Big-to-Fail is going to have a bad day tomorrow. Worse than mine was today.

(words 459, first published 02/25/2020, 

Flash: Phin and Amelia

Erin Penn

Photo by Nenad Rakicevic on Unsplash (Cropped by Erin Penn)

Slightly dozing, Amelia turned over when her phone dinged. She had set the alarm to prevent burning. This vacation was exactly what the doctor ordered.

Exactly what the doctor had ordered.

She hated the fact she had to have a vacation. The turn and trying to find a comfortable position for her head on her arms brought the cramped muscles of her back into a tense knot again even with the sun warming her spine.

Stress had sent her to the psychologist when her childhood nightmares returned. After a month of the government doing their on-again off-again furloughs, her job qualifying as exempt, then non-exempt with every rewrite of the budget, her stress level shot through the roof. Either she freaked about the bills piling up. Or she was destroyed at work dealing with clients screaming at her because their needed checks weren’t arriving. The mail department had been declared non-essential.

She wasn’t being paid enough to be yelled at; in fact, until the boys on the hill stop their dick waving, she wasn’t getting paid at all.

When her boss found her crying at her desk after one particularly hard call, where the woman and her children had been evicted because their money hadn’t arrived, he sent her downstairs to be evaluated. That led her to calling her psychologist after a ten-year hiatus.

When people screamed at her, she fell apart. Her parents had done it all the time. When they didn’t hit her. Of course, the worst was when they told her how useless and ugly she was. And the fourteen “healed” breaks on her arms, legs, and ribs ached from the winter cold. And when the weather changed. So spring wouldn’t be much better. And autumn had her using a cane last year. It would just get worse as she got older.

Only during the boiling of summer did the pain and screaming stop, when she could escape the house and her parents. She could still hear them. Feel them hit her.

Amelia felt wetness on her arms and realized she was crying.

Oh God. Stop it. Just stop it. Don’t think about it, she told herself firmly like Dr. Bitters told her to.

“I’m not that person anymore.”

“Then who are you?” A male voice came from her feet. “If I may ask.”

Amelia lifted onto her elbows, half-turning her body, the sand shifting beneath her, to see over her shoulder, tossing her wavy hair. The feet led up to sturdy legs, some loose, iridescent blue and green trunks, a perfect six-pack, nicely sculptured pecs and arms, and finally a pleasant face with a dimple. The journey took much longer than it should. But all that tanned skin needed suitable admiration.

“I’m me. The new me.”

“Does that ‘me’ have a name?” The dimple dug deep on the left side of his smile. “I’m Phin.”

“Amelia.” She pressed her lips together, sucking them into her mouth. She never had been attracted to anyone before, and it scared her. Only people she cared about hit her.

“Hi, Amelia. I was wondering if you would like someone to put sunscreen on your back. With your red hair and pale skin, I bet you need it all the time.” He motioned to the 30 SPF bottle stuck in the sand beside her blanket. “Just the back. I promise not to be grabby or anything.”

Even if I ask? Popped into her head. She blinked. Where did that come from?

(words 580; first published 2/23/2020)