Flash Fiction, The adventures of Max

Max goes to the Park. pt.1

The night is black. The stars are hiding, perhaps the moon is also sleeping, as the only source of light is the artificial kind.

The streetlights illuminate the neighbourhood in white.

It is that unusual time of night when an unsettling silence exists, the kind of silence where even nature itself is still. The animals that often freely roam at this time such as the Fox’, the Hedgehogs, or Bats for some surreal reason are sleeping in their dens. It is as if a witch has cast a spell on this unassuming neighbourhood.

Nothing stirs, or so we thought, actually there is something moving, something stirring. Is it an animal? A ghost? A witch? No. It’s a Max.

Max is holding the leash of his Pitbull named ‘Meme’. He walks in this unsettling silence. Every step he takes makes a loud clattering sound on the uneven concrete. His subtle breathing and the ‘hum hum hum’ tune he whistles break this silence.

Max looks left then right. “Hey Meme wanna run around the park?”

Meme looks at Max and pants. “Geez why are you so desperate. Fine I’ll let your run around the park. But only a little, got it.”

Meme continues looking up at Max and panting. Max can’t help but smile at Meme and lead her into the park.

“Oh it’s pretty creepy here at night, ain’t it?”

Meme pants.

“We’ll only stay a little.”

Meme nods and pants.

Max un-clips Meme’s leash, takes a ball from his pocket and throws it. Meme barks excitedly and runs after the ball in a frenzy.

 

 

Standard
Flash Fiction, The adventures of Max

Grey Sky, Grey Smoke

colourcigaretteI walk out the convenience store holding the carton of milk and pack of cigarettes my Mum had screamed at me to buy first thing this morning. It’s Sunday, the sky is a pleasant grey which makes the dull buildings look more dull. It creates this sinister and noir atmosphere that I love. This is my favourite weather. There’s quite an icy breeze which crawls up my sleeves flirtatiously. I feel its chill and pull my collar higher up and my gloves tighter.

Just as I turn in the direction of home I see a bunch of kids loitering outside the store, I know them, they’re locals and some of them go to my sixth-form. I wonder whether I should say hello but I’m too lazy to start a conversation so I’m about to walk past them when one grabs me.

They grab my shoulders and turn me around to face them, “If it ain’t Max.” she says.

“Oooh is that Max.” they all start coming closer to me and I know there’s no escape. I just sigh.

“I heard you ditched Mr. Richards class on Friday, you are so bad ass.” says a girl, her name is Shelly. She’s wearing a real short skirt and crop top and I can’t help but wonder if she’s cold.

“There is no reason staying in a class when I don’t want to learn.” I reply.

There are looks of praise from the others.

“You must think your pretty hot stuff, always ditching, being late and not hanging out with no one. Why don’t you join our group?” says one guy, his name is Aaron, he’s putting on a friendly smile.

Join his group, he must be ridiculous. They were just a bunch of kids loitering around, trying to act cool, and getting into trouble. Hanging out with them sounded stupid.

“I’ve got better things to do.”

“Well then go screw yourself, you ain’t wanted.” he yells at me, I’ve probably offended him, his friends back him up and start glaring at me. All I can do is sigh. It’s not like I wanted to talk.

I ignore them and turn around, take a cigarette from my pocket, light it and watch as the smoke rises. Every time I light a cig I feel the wind pick up around me, it’s as if my soul will be stolen away. It feels kind off thrilling, having one in my hand. I wonder why my Mother smokes tons of these everyday, I don’t get it. I walk and watch as it burns and then I throw it to the ground. I smash it under my foot.

 

Standard
Flash Fiction, The adventures of Max

Another day in Class.

Mr. Richards is grumbling about Politics. He’s talking about the judiciary and making the class take the same notes over and over again. It’s times like this that Max really wonders why he chose this subject. He thought it would be more exciting, like learning about Terrorism and Human rights or Regionalism, but apparently that is for the next year. This year they are learning about UK politics, which is enjoyable in its own way, but Max feels disengaged. It is so difficult, he just can’t wrap his mind around the subject whatsoever. It is nearly exam time and he still can’t remember how legislature went through parliament and still hasn’t done any of his notes or mind-maps.

‘Perhaps I should be listening in this lesson’, Max thought, but the moment he thought it the idea ran out his ear. There is no point, it is a lost cause, he’d just drop it or worse come to worse he’d drop school altogether and take an apprenticeship. Max is the type of person that doesn’t stress about education or the future. As far as he is concerned, grades, or the type of job he got didn’t dictate the quality of life he would have in the future.

Max looks out the window, watching the clouds pass, then Mr. Richards, noticing his lack of attention, says, “Mr. Malis can you tell me how a judge can retain their neutrality?”

Max can only stare at him blankly. “I don’t know sir, but I do know I need to go to the toilet, so I’ll be back in a bit.” Although Max says this he is really just planning on ditching the class. So he picks up his bag and stands up.

At his words other students begin laughing, chatting, saying “typical Max”, “always dozing off”, “lol”, “exams are soon he should get his act together” and “is he actually leaving?” At their words and Max’s actions Mr. Richards’ face goes redder and redder with anger, but before he can scream Max is already skipping out the classroom.

Max goes into the quiet corridors and begins walking down the stairs. He stretches, yawns, and starts his journey home.

Standard
Flash Fiction, The adventures of Max

A small mistake.

imagesThe wind blows in my face. It’s quite strong. When I say strong I mean really, really strong. It pushes my eyes open and my mouth wide. I find myself unable to walk forward so I hold onto a large streetlight for dear life. Where did this wind come from, it’s abnormal? As I gaze around it looks like I am the only one affected. A cat leisurely walks past me down the small country road. I see small leaves from a willow-o-wisp tree flutter over my head. How is that even possible when there is such a heavy wind?

Suddenly the wind grabs my feet, picks me up,  and it feels as if I am being pulled by a herculean force. Before I know it my hands can’t bear the strain, and I let go. Now I am being flung into the air. I try to grab hold of something, anything, but the wind rips me away.  Soon the houses look like miniature figurines. The farms and lush hills look like specks of green on a canvas.

I go up an up, until the Earth itself is the size of a round ball that I could pick up and chew. I’m in space, yet unlike the stories I’ve heard my eyeballs aren’t bleeding out of their sockets, I’m not freezing to death, and it feels like I can still breathe.

I travel higher and higher, the higher I go the faster the wind pushes me. I can’t even enjoy the beautiful view of the stars and their solar systems flashing past. It isn’t until there is darkness all around, not a star in sight, does it finally stop. I drop, letting out a shriek more high pitched than a veteran soprano at the Royal opera house.

Just as I feel like I’ll be dropped endlessly a man catches me. Or rather I fall on him, landing into his outstretched arms. He’s holding me bridal style. By the way he’s also naked, which is obviously not the weirdest thing out of all of this, but still pretty weird.

“Who are you?” he asks.

“Who am I?”

“Don’t answer a question with a question!” He yells, “What is your name, your birthday and your favourite colour?”

“Huh!?”

“Hurry up, I’m busy.”

“My name is Max Malis, my birthday is October the 31st, my favourite colour is….ummm….grey, I guess.”

“Well isn’t that stupid.”

“Huh!”

“Grey isn’t a colour it’s a shade, dumbass.” His rude reply stuns me into silence.

“Oiii!” he screams into the darkness, “You idiot, you picked up the wrong soul. I’m waiting for a Ray. Take this one back.”

After he finishes yelling he winks at me. “Sorry for all the hassle, just a small mistake. We’ll see each other another time. Bye.”

He tosses me and then I am being blown away again, except this time the wind is taking me down, down and down. We’re going back so fast I black out.

I open my eyes, I find myself in my bedroom, tucked in bed. It’s as if I never put on my uniform and left the house.

“Wake up! Wake up! Wake up!” It’s my Mother. She’s standing over me with an annoyed look on her face.

“It’s 9’o’ clock Max, don’t you have school today.” She’s holding the clock to my face, and when I see it, I scream.

Shit.

 

 

Standard
Flash Fiction

Missing you.

I stare at the lake of ice. I feel my heart tighten. Memories of the past flooding back to me. When you would stare into my eyes, when we would hold hands, and we would glide together. Heaven itself would play a blissful tune as we danced. Our warm breathe would journey out into the freezing air intertwining together as we embraced. I remember our eyes being so close that with just the simplest of movements our lips would have been touching. Your soft lips, your doe eyes, your love. I miss all of it. I miss every part of it.

Now I am old.

I stare at this lake of ice with my thin cigarette, the only breathe intertwining with mine now, is its smoke. I inhale and exhale, inhale and exhale. Hopefully my lungs blacken some more. Perhaps if I continue smoking hundreds of these I’ll get to see you. Then in Heaven we could be dancing on ice together. I could smoke thousands of these cigarettes a day if it means seeing you again.

Now I hear laughter.

I stare at a young couple, holding each other as they step on the ice, their laughter and smiles make the bitter dawn feel warm. They’re so passionate that I feel like I’m in summer. The man kisses the woman, their woollen hats knocking against each other. She loses her balance and they both tumble on the ice. They roll on the surface hugging each other. I can’t help but see you as her, and myself as him. Unable to bear more, I turn and pull Yappy’s leash and make a solitary walk back home.

My heart aches.

 

Standard
Flash Fiction

An Encounter.

tumblr_inline_nwpetr81SW1qlb7tn_500

As Aillil turned page after page of the old fables his grandfather had left him, he found himself entranced by the tales of Branwen, Cuchulainn, Tuatha de Danann, Arthur and his knights. He found himself wishing for the magic of the past to return to the present. He wondered why no one truly believed in these tales anymore, he wondered where the bards whom would slip into the Otherworlds, had disappeared to. He wistfully looked to the sky, day dreaming about Finn and his Fianna.

He wanted to prove these legends true. Aillil was frustrated. To him it felt as if the magic of the world, it’s pure quintessence was at the very tip of his fingertips but it was so very out of reach. Why was this? Why was it all so frustrating?

One evening in irritation, when the night was old and souls at rest, Aillil took his bike and pedalled into the mountains near his home. He reached out to the moon. It was so big in the sky, the stars so bright it felt like with just a simple grasping motion he could capture the heavens and join the heroes, gods, and goddesses in their paradises. Yet no matter how much Aillil pedalled it was fruitless. He was soon worn out, staring at his hands, lying on the grass of the mountain fields looking at the night.

“Why! I know you are real! Show yourselves, Show yourselves to me!!!” He yelled to no one in particular, by this point he’d already given up. He expected no response to his cry and was preparing to get back on his bike to ride home into the comfort of his bed and family.

Yet then he heard, “We hear your call.” It was a childish and faint voice that was carried by the wind to his ear.

“Join us.”

Aillil looked up and he saw the most bewitching fairies, it was like in the tales, as if they had just rode out of their underground palaces, they glowed with a celestial glint. They harboured treasures from Avalon and wore garments embroidered with the ethereal designs and jewels.

The male fairy extended his hand to Ailill, “Won’t you join us on this eve of Beltane?”

Aillil was shocked, he couldn’t believe this was actually happening. Filled with intrigue and excitement he grasped his hand. “Yes. Yes please!”

They giggled at him, and then he was pulled onto the back of the male fairy’s white and proud steed.

Aillil left with them into the unknown, and he never came back.

After I read a novel, watch an anime or read some of my favourite fables I find myself wondering about the truths of this world. I want to reach out and grasp the mysteries this realm has to offer. I want them to reach out to me. At the same time, unlike Aillil, I don’t think I would have the courage to accept that invitation and go into the unknown so brazenly.

Would you go with the fairies?

Standard
Flash Fiction

Born to be yours

Amy and Amanda are twins.

Since the moment the stalks delivered them they have been inseparable. Or you could say they were unable to escape from one another.

From the womb to their bedrooms and even in school they were forced to occupy the same space. Forced to recognise the others existence. Even being collectively titled the ‘twins’.

This lack of individualism slowly drove Amy and Amanda to insanity. They fought with one another said hurtful things to one another. Cried with one another.

Funnily enough these times of fighting and adolescent frustration led to them being closer. Their bonds grew stronger. Yet at the same time they learnt to value each other as well as to love themselves.

At the age of 60 Amy visits Amanda at the hospital, her wrinkly hands holding onto her sisters.

“You know when I look at you I see myself” said Amanda.

“You know when I look at you I see my best friend” said Amy.

“You know when I look at you I feel nostalgic… And oh so very happy.” Amanda spoke softly.

“Haha…we’ve grown so old, haven’t we!” Amy exclaimed.

“Looking after each other, loving and laughing. My comrade. My fellow warrior. I’m glad I spent my time on this battlefield with you.” Amanda preached.

“You old fool you act like we’ve fought a war. All we’ve done is lived.”

“You’re the fool. Living is one of the greatest battles!” Amanda reprimanded. Then she coughed, her chest heaving and she clasped onto Amy’s hands squeezing them.

“My dearest Sister, I am glad that I have fought this war with you. I am sure that in the next life we will fight another war together. Because I was born…born to be yours.” Amanda sighed the last word. Her struggle over, her life gone. Her soul on another journey to face another adventure somewhere in the stars.

Amy weeps. Her hands still grasping her sisters. “I am certain that we’ll meet amongst another battlefield…as I was also born to be yours.”

 

This is a 300 word flash fiction piece that reflects my own relationship with my sister. I love her to pieces and I believe I was born to be hers. Although we may grow old and eventually separate I hope that even in the next life I am united with her to fight yet another battle.

Standard