Tag Archives: Fiction

Short Story (flash fiction) Of the Day, SALT, SPICES, FAT, HONEY by N. R. M. Roshak

Posted on by Bill Chance

Shelley steers me to an antiseptic alcove and talks at me while I contemplate the bags of dinner cooling at my feet. She monologues about obesity, codependence, enabling, mortality. Finally, she asks if we have an agreement. I tell her we do not and head back to his room to feed him, clean him, oil him, turn him.

—- N. R. M. Roshak, SALT, SPICES, FAT, HONEY

This woman was waving a turkey leg out of her food trailer. When someone came up to buy one, she said, “Let me get you a fresh one hon, this is my demo model, I’ve been waving it out this window for hours.”

Is there anything more frightening than toxic codependency? Today’s story is harrowing and depicts toxic codependency that has decended to Munchhausen by Proxy territory.

For a while I watched the television show Intervention – stopping when it became repetitive for me. There were two things that fascinated me especially – both of which are condensed into today’s flash fiction.

One was that the drug addicts (heroin, cocaine, crack, pills, booze, you name it) had a long, tough road – but there was hope. A good number of them got better. But the people with non-drug addictions (food, eating, not-eating, puking, exercise, gambling, shopping) were out of luck. I don’t remember any of them being successful at getting over their addiction.

What I really found interesting were the enablers. The addicts were ill, they were overcome with a sickness that most of them didn’t want. But every addict had someone that was keeping them sick. These were the people, the loved ones, that for their own (usually selfish or lazy or based on guilt) reasons gave in and allowed the downhill spiral to continue. And none of them even knew or could understand what they were doing and how evil and dangerous it was. The Interventionist would always zero in on these people and make sure they understood and would commit to ending their support for the illness. They were rarely successful in this.

But, in the story, there is horror, but there is love. Maybe that is the ultimate toxicity.

Read it here:

SALT, SPICES, FAT, HONEY by N. R. M. Roshak

from Flash Fiction Online

I’m Just Here For The Stories – N. R. M. Roshak’s blog

N. R. M. (Natalka) ROSHAK on Twitter

Borne

Posted on by Bill Chance
“Once, it was different. Once, people had homes and parents and went to schools. Cities existed within countries and those countries had leaders. Travel could be for adventure or recreation, not survival. But by the time I was grown up, the wider context was a sick joke. Incredible, how a slip could become a freefall and a freefall could become a hell where we lived on as ghosts in a haunted world.”
― Jeff VanderMeer, Borne

Chihuly Glass (click to enlarge)

 

I have now read all the Borne series of books and stories by Jeff VanderMeer, pretty much – as far as I know… but the thing is I read them out of order. And I think that was a good thing.

   First of all was the newest Borne book – The Dead Astronauts, which I read on behest of the Wild Detectives Book Club (back in the day when you would actually go to a book club). The book was incredibly weird – so difficult to read that I thought that would be the end of the Borne Dystopia for me.

    But before I finished The Dead Astronauts I stumbled across and online short story/novela written about the same world – quite a bit earlier as it turns out – The Situation. This detailed a very strange world but told the story in a familiar way – the destruction of everything told as a story of corporate back-stabbing. I really enjoyed The Situation and that led me to check out The Strange Bird from the library and devour that short novel. It too told a strange tale but was written in a familiar style – that of a quest or journey. It was set in the same world and had a few characters in common with the other two works – enough to continue to increase my interest.

    So, I bought a copy of the central novel in the series Borne – and finished it late last night. It was really good, a crackerjack of a novel. The most complete of the books, it explains a lot of what what mysterious and curious in the others… explains some, maybe not a lot, really, … and definitely not everything.

    At the book club discussion of The Dead Astronauts someone describe Borne as a love story.  And it is the typical girl finds odd plant in fur of giant bear, girl falls in love with plant, plant turns out not to be a plant but a ruthless killer, girl loses plant/killer, and finally girl discovers her love is something else entirely type of story. Yeah, it is a love story.

    Having read it last it was inevitable that I would read it trying to ferret out the connections with the other works. The three Dead Astronauts from their own epynomous novel made an appearance in Borne but they didn’t do much probably because they were dead. The story of The Strange Bird and Borne are dovetailed – the identical tale told from two different points of view and in very different styles – the same characters populate both.

   The Situation is a prequel to all the others. It contains the origin of the Giant Bear, Mord, along with other clues. In Borne, it is strongly hinted that Wick is the narrator of The Situation but I wasn’t absolutely sure. In researching this, I came across a graphic version of The Situation  from Tor books – where Wick is named explicitly. Now I wonder if Scarskirt is the Magician from Borne and The Strange Bird. She is described as someone who “stared at reflective surfaces all day” which is a connection. I don’t know – but it’s fun to speculate. At any rate, click that link and look at the drawings – they are very good.

  So now I’m done with Borne and I can get back to reading Zola. Except… now I’m thinking about VanderMeer’s Annihilation (I liked the movie) and the rest of its Southern Reach trilogy. We’ll see. So many books, so little time.

    By the way, I’ve been reading rumors that AMC has optioned Borne for a miniseries. Wow, I have no idea how this goes onto the screen. It would be like a science fiction version of Game of Thrones… except on acid.

Short Story Of the Day, The Mouse by Anais Nin

Posted on by Bill Chance

Everybody laughed, and the Mouse too. Then she got frightened hearing herself laugh, and she hurried away to her work.

—-Anais Nin, The Mouse

One of the boats on the infinity pool. This is the view from below – it was amazing with the calm water.

Read it here:

The Mouse by Anais Nin

from The Short Story Project

Short Story (flash fiction) Of the Day, The Outing by Lydia Davis

Posted on by Bill Chance

…an attempt to be friendly…

—–Lydia Davis, The Outing

Chihuly glass sculptures in the creek, Dallas Arboretum

Only a few words can, in the hands of a genius’ pen, outline a long, sad, and wondrous story.

Read it here:

The Outing by Lydia Davis

Short Story Of the Day, I Can See Right Through You by Kelly Link

Posted on by Bill Chance

It’s hard for the demon lover to grow old.

—-Kelly Link, I Can See Right Through You

Nasher Sculpture Center, Dallas, Texas

I first read about Kelly Link and her fiction when I read that Salon had named her collection of short stories, Stranger Things Happen, a book of the year. I tracked down the paperback and read it – and it was as good as advertised. I’ve been a fan of her work – a weird melange of oddly modern adult stories told as twisted fairy tales – ever since.

I’ve linked to two of her short stories before – Carnation, Lily, Lily, Rose (unfortunately, no longer online) and Catskin. Buy some of her books – and visit her publishing house – especially since she offers so much that she has written and/or published under a creative commons license.

So today I’ll link to I Can See Right Through You – it starts out fragmented and jumping around and then settles down and then veers into something a little unexpected. Worth it… genius, really.

Read it here:

I Can See Right Through You by Kelly Link

from McSweeney’s

Kelly Link Homepage

Small Beer Press

Kelly Link’s Twitter

Short Story (100 words) Of the Day, After a Heartless Winter by Juliana Gray

Posted on by Bill Chance

An animal, I said, when the tiller turned up bones.

—-Juliana Gray, After a Heartless Winter

(click to enlarge)

 

Read it here:

After a Heartless Winter by Juliana Gray

from 100 Word Story

Short Story Of the Day, The Island at Noon by Julio Cortazar

Posted on by Bill Chance

The island was visible for a few minutes, but the air was always so clean, and it was outlined by the sea with such a minute cruelty that the smallest details were implacably adjusted to the memory of the preceding flight: the green spot of the headland to the north, the lead-grey houses, the nets drying on the sand. When the nets weren’t there, Marini felt as if he had been robbed, insulted.

—-Julio Cortazar, The Island at Noon

Reflecting pool, Art District, Dallas, Texas

I have flown in airplanes often for well over a half-century. But still, even now, I act like a curious little kid in that I like to sit in a window seat and stare out at the land passing beneath. I always wonder exactly where we are. When we cross the center of the country  I look at the shape of lakes, try and memorize them, so I can look them up on maps. I look for well-known rivers, and highways. If we go over the Rockies I look for familiar peaks. When we cross the ocean, like the protagonist of today’s story, I look for islands – again, memorizing their shape.

My favorite thing is to spot someplace I have been before, that I recognize, and that I enjoy seeing from a new, unique, angle. It makes me happy.

Read today’s story here:

The Island at Noon, by Julio Cortazar

from Electric Literature

Short Story (flash fiction) Of the Day, Filler by Ben Segal

Posted on by Bill Chance

I started with a matchbox of sugar. I told Ray, “I will fill one thing with something else every day this year.” I’d been doing nothing for too long and Ray was there for the smoothness of my lack. He was handsome, too, which I still like in a friend. He was tall and charming and on a stool. He drew a small circle in pencil and passed it to me. “You can start with this.”

—-Ben Segal, Filler

Deep Ellum
Texas

Many years ago I had a job interview scheduled. The company offered to put me up in a nice (if not luxurious) hotel. Even though the interview was in the same town I lived in, I accepted their offer of a room for a night. I thought to myself, “even if I don’t get the job – I’ll come out ahead one night in a hotel.” Usually I would be nervous and have a hard time sleeping the night before a job interview. Being in a room, that big comfy bed, paid by someone else – I slept like a rock.

Read it here:

Filler by Ben Segal

from MONKEYBICYCLE

 

Short Story (flash fiction) Of the day, Bedside, by Dan Ryan

Posted on by Bill Chance

“Then I’m definitely going to let Ma find the glass menagerie on her own!” I cried, and stormed out of her house—cut deep by this future she’d imagined without me.

—-Dan Ryan, Bedside

Sleep

Sleep

It’s hard right now to not think about what you leave behind. I need to clean my office room (the dogs have been in the trash). And don’t forget, there is digital now. Would you be comfortable with the people that follow you scrutinizing your hard drives? Your tablet? Moving through the directories, guessing at the filenames.

So you could password protect the things. But then you think that when you are gone, so is everything you collected. And that might be more frightening.

Read it here:

Bedside, by Dan Ryan

from Electric Literature

Dan Ryan Twitter

Short Story (flash fiction) Of the Day, The Barracuda in the Pool by Cecilia Kennedy

Posted on by Bill Chance

I’m suddenly aware that I’m smiling. I’ve finally made it here, to summer—after such a long winter—and I’ve treated myself to a dip in the pool.

—-Cecilia Kennedy, The Barracuda in the Pool

Mural, Deep Ellum, Dallas, Texas

Good writing will bring back memories. Flash fiction can artificially extend its length and value that way – by tacking strong memories onto the end of the text itself.

Today’s flash fiction brings back a couple to me (maybe spoilers… maybe read the story first).

One was (maybe 1972) swimming inside the shark netting in the ocean at Fort Sherman (now long gone) on the Atlantic side of the Canal Zone. I remember the taste of salt, the sweltering heat, and the primordial green of the neighboring rain forest. There was a large active crowd in the water and I put on my mask and dipped my face below the surface to take a look. There was a barracuda, a big one, gliding smoothly between the writhing bodies. Minding his own business. He looked so streamlined, so powerful, so prehistoric… like something from another world. I felt embarrassed because I dared contaminate his ocean with my pitiful presence.

The second was… maybe two years later and 500 miles northwest of there, diving into a pool in a country club in Managua. I mistook the shallow end and plunged my face into the rough gunite bottom. It hurt but the worst was when I stood up. A young woman standing in the pool looked at my face and the gore pouring down and let out the most blood curdling movie scream I have heard in my life. I was ultimately fine, the worst wound was the sound of her voice and the terror on her face. That remains after a half century has passed.

Read it here:

The Barracuda in the Pool by Cecilia Kennedy

from Flash Fiction Magazine

by Cecilia Kennedy

Cecilia Kennedy Twitter