A Butterfly Mind

This story has previously been published by Ether Books. They are currently running a Science-Fiction & Fantasy competition. Deadline: June 3rd. Maximum word count: 3000. Prize: iPad. More details here.

Returnee - a #fridayflash

The moment she walked into the dining room she knew she was going to take the house. Instead of the magnolia plasterboard she’d come to expect, the two external walls were made of floor-to-ceiling glass.

Once she’d moved in, she spent her days at the table and her nights on the two-seater she’d dragged in from the lounge.

‘It’s perfect, Mum,’ she said on the phone. ‘There’s so much sky.’

‘Sarah, love …’

‘Whenever I look up, I can see it all.’

‘Honey …’

‘There isn’t anything in the way. No tower-blocks. No houses. No trees. Nothing.’

‘Sweetheart, you’ve got to stop this. It’s not healthy.’

‘I’m fine, Mum. Stop worrying.’

‘I can’t.’

‘And I can’t stop looking.’

The moment they led her into the hospital, she knew she had to make them understand. All she needed was to be able to see the sky.

(Photo by Justin Kern.)

The Present Is a Foreign Country - a #fridayflash

I found the book – Ancient Greek for Beginners – lying on a shelf in my new back bedroom. From its thick blanket of dust, I could tell it hadn’t been opened for years. I opened it though. Couldn’t resist. Poor thing; it looked so forgotten.

The spine snarled at me.

“Go away,” it said. “Leave me in peace. I’m old and tired. Almost dead. No good to anyone.” Its covers snapped shut.

“Don’t be silly,” I replied, giving it a pat. “I’ve never been very good at languages, but I’m sure you could teach me something.”

“I’m sure I could teach you something,” it said. “But would that something be of any use?”

I ran my fingertips around the edges of its age-yellowed paper. “Well, that’s for us to find out, isn’t it?”

At first, the book only shivered, but then, after a little more stroking, it sighed and let its pages drift open. “Where would you like to start?” it asked and pressed its skin firm against mine.

(Original image by dklimke. This story is now available to download for free via the Ether app for iPhones.)

Happy National Flash-Fiction Day!

Today’s a big day for me … First, I’m announcing the 1000words stories chosen for inclusion in the National Flash-Fiction Day Winners Anthology, then tonight I’ll be off to the National Flash-Fiction Day launch event, where I’ll be reading my own story, the one that was selected for inclusion in Jawbreakers. Also, my story ‘Disorder’ has been published on the National Flash-Fiction Day FlashFlood blog, and tonight the winner of the Abergavenny Focus Flash-Fiction Competition will be announced - my story ‘Touched’ was shortlisted.

There’s so much I want to say about National Flash-Fiction Day and all the lovely writers I’ve met through it, but I’ll write that post tomorrow!

The Ostrich and the Doctor - a #fridayflash

“Not everyone gets a second chance, Patrick,” she said, frowning at me. “I thought you’d be pleased.” As she spoke, she tucked the twin curtains of her fringe behind her ears. Her hair was lovely, not as long as it had been the day before, but still lovely. Very shiny with a little wave in it. It reminded me of golden sands and sunshine.

“I know, Cathleen.” Her other patients had to call her Doctor Banks. “I know. And I am pleased.” I tried to sound grateful. After all, she’d done a fantastic job. Not long after I’d been admitted to the Royal United, she’d taken over my care, and for six weeks she’d only left my side to eat and sleep. The cancerous little buggers who’d been chewing up my insides hadn’t stood a chance.

“You can finally take that cruise now,” she said. “The caribbean wasn’t it?”

Cathleen was such a good doctor. Not only had she cured me, but she’d also listened to me. She’d taken it all in, everything I’d said to her. No one could ever accuse her of not having a good bedside manner.

“Or that drive across the States,” she continued. “What was it you wanted to see? The Rockies? The Grand Canyon? Niagara Falls?” She picked up my coat and held it out to me. She had the softest hands. Her long, delicate fingers were tipped by freshly-polished nails, a sort of coral-pink. They made me think of snorkelling on the Great Barrier reef. “There’s nothing stopping you now.”

“I suppose not,” I said, as I took my coat and slipped my arms into its sleeves.

“If you don’t want to go alone, you could always take one of your friends.” As astute as ever, she’d drilled right to the core of the matter. “You’ve got plenty to choose from.”

I stood up. It was true; I’d had plenty of visitors while I’d been in hospital. The moment word had got out that I was ‘terminal’ it had seemed as if every Tom, Dick and Harry I’d ever crossed paths with had crawled out of the woodwork and come to pay their respects. “The Lottery-Loiterers you mean?” I said, rolling my eyes. “No thanks.”

She chuckled. It was a sweet sound, like a wind-chime singing in a breeze. “Surely they’re not all just after your money.”

“I wouldn’t bet on it.”

“Perhaps you should.” She chuckled again. “They do say good luck comes in threes. First your win. Then your recovery. Maybe now you’ll find someone to share it all with – your money and your life.”

She was a sweet, young thing. A real glass-half-full kind of person. Even though we were in the depths of winter, her skin was the healthiest shade of tan. It was probably from a sun-bed, but it suited her you-can’t-beat-me attitude - something I found very attractive.

Feeling like a fool for even thinking of asking, I almost didn’t, but I knew I couldn’t let the opportunity slip by. Unless, God forbid, I was struck down again, the odds were this would be the last time I’d see her, so it was now or never. “You don’t fancy a holiday do you?” I asked, the words coming out in a rush. “I could take you away from all this.” As casually as I could, I waved my hands at the scuffed, blue walls and wipeable curtains of my cubicle. “Get you out from under these fluorescent bulbs into some actual sunshine.”

Her cheeks flushed. “Oh, Patrick,” she said, flattening her hand over her heart. “I didn’t mean me!”

“Is it the age gap?” I asked. I knew it was. “You don’t want people thinking I’m your dad … or your boyfriend?”

“What? No!”

“The bald patch?”

“No!”

“The beer belly?”

“No, Patrick. It’s not … It’s just that … It wouldn’t be ethical. I’m your doctor.”

At last, I let myself smile. “Not anymore you’re not. I’m all better. Remember?” I could see she was struggling under the weight of this realisation, so I stumbled on. “What do you say? Just a holiday. As friends. If you like. No strings attached. As a thank you. A special treat. I do owe you my life.”

Her cheeks reddened further, and she bit her lip. “I … I don’t know what to say.”

“Say yes. I’ll take you anywhere you want to go. Just tell me where.”

“Well, no … well … I couldn’t possibly … well … I have always wanted to go to Africa.”

“Yes! Of course! You said you’d always wanted to go on safari, see the animals in their natural habitats. The circle of life. Survival of the fittest and all that. Lions and gazelles and vultures and …”

“And ostriches,” she said, returning my smile. “I’ve always had a fondness for those.”

(Image by s_evenseth.)

(Written for The Writers @ Lovedean Seven Days of Flash challenge. Prompted by the above image by Celeste.)

Flight - a flashfiction

First, he sent her to her room. Next, he took away her phone. Last, he put a lock on her window. There was no way he was going to let his little angel follow in her mother’s footsteps.

To start with, she refused to come down to eat. Then, she gave him the silent treatment. Finally, she took what she could and ran. There was no way she was going to let herself end up like her mother.