Flash Fiction

I've been taking a class on Flash Fiction - the art of writing mini-stories that pack a punch. I'd like to share my most recent attempt. Of course, my dang grief still directs so much of my writing. This piece involves Carmichael, my grief, who is a blonde, smartass, skater-boy who is ever present in my life. Let me know what you think!

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The woman on the bench stared at her phone in disbelief. Had this man actually dumped her via text message? What the actual fuck. She felt a wave of emotion roll through her heart, then up her throat, then out of her mouth. Just one, tiny sob, and it was over. She became aware of a presence behind her. Rolling her eyes in a sideways glance, she saw him.

Carmichael sat criss-cross-applesauce on the patch of grass behind the bench and slightly to the left. He was eating pistachios – chomping and spitting, chomping and spitting.

“I told you it was too soon,” said Carmichael, chomp, spit. “You thought so, too, but you just had to go for it.” He swiveled his chin and cocked his head, his usual smirk being dragged down by the slightest frown. “I told you, I told you, I told you. Maybe you’ll listen to me now.”

The woman looked away, sighing because she knew he was right, but she’d never let him know that.

“Go away, Carmichael.” She was tired. Tired of him hanging around all the time. Tired of his smartass comments. “And spit those shells somewhere else.”

“You know I’m not going anywhere. Feel the feels, man.”

In a split second, he was leaning over her shoulder. “You gotta feel the feels.” He brushed his ragged blonde hair from his eyes, revealing the sparkling blue slant that she’d become familiar with.

“I’m feeling the damn feels, Carmichael. And I’m trying for new feels.” Frustration cracked her voice.

“You’re not ready. Listen to me. You’re not ready.” He snapped his skinny fingers in her ear and in a blink he was across the pond. He called to her, “I’m not your enemy, man. I’m you. You gotta know that by now.”

The woman squinted her eyes. She could barely see him, but could hear him loud and clear, as though he was inside her head, lounging in her brain, pressing on the sadness section.

“What did you learn?” His voice was softer this time.

The woman thought for a moment. Had she learned anything? She slowed her breathing so she could let her answer formulate.”

“I think I learned that I can do it. When I’m ready. So, I’m grateful for that lesson.” She wrinkled her brow and felt a smile forming on her lips. She HAD learned something – what do you know?

The smirk returned to Carmichael’s face. “You’re not ready, not ready, not ready.”

Then, with a swish, he perched in the limb of the giant oak tree to her right. The smirk softened to a smile, and the sparkling blue eyes eased into pools of gray and green. “But you’re getting there.”

The woman watched him closely. He subtly winked at her. The first sign of friendship between them. And she deleted the message with a calm stroke and took a step into her future.

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As always, thanks for reading my ramblings! Fiercely Flash is a class taught through Writing Away Refuge by the fabulous MaxieJane Frazier. Check it out if you have any inclination to write. This is the second time I've taken her class. It is truly remarkable what happens in your brain when you strive to write concise thoughts during a 6-minute timeframe.

Have a lovely Sunday!