Every Friday, my buddy J.D. Mader does this thing where he gives authors and non-authors alike two minutes to lay down some flash fiction. The posts are entitled, aptly enough, “2 Minutes. Go!” If you write, or even if you don’t, drop on by and check out the comments every Friday. Some terrific flash fiction goes down over there.
Here’s what I wrote yesterday. I call it “Not Before Halloween”. Let me know what you think down in the comments.
“Not Before Halloween”
by E. Lorn
Wind from the west has a slight chill to it this evening. Can you smell the woodsmoke? Leaves in the old elm out front are still green, but a few rebels have gone red and orange. Soon they’ll be yellow. Then they’ll be gone.
If you listen, you can hear the children next door arguing over jack-o-lantern designs and what they want to be, come the 31st. Neighborhood boys, some of them bad at being good and others good at being bad, hum past on bikes. The kid out front of the pack is leaning right and left, almost laying his bike down with every shove of the pedals.
I’m standing on the porch. Smoking my pipe. The rich, sweet aroma of tobacco floats about my head, hiding me in its bluish fog.
I love this time of year. Another few weeks and America’s youth will be knocking on doors and singing their demands. “Trick or treat!” Some of them will say thanks. Some of them won’t. Some of them might even mention how much they miss Old Man Anderson.
I drift inside, through the door. Old Man Anderson is at his kitchen table, stringing together plastic purple bats and orange pumpkins with yellow features. When I enter the room, he stops and lays his decorations down. He clutches his chest. He looks up. Sees me and frowns.
“Not now. Not before Halloween.”
“Oh, but-” is all he gets out before his head thunks down onto the table.
Ethereal and vastly more see-through than he was moments prior, Old Man Anderson follows me outside, where we share a pipe and our favorite stories of Octobers past. He tells me he’ll miss the kids coming around. I tell him that he will be missed.
“What comes next?” he asks with a genuine smile.
“Oh, I think I’ll leave that as a surprise.”
“I’d like to stay a moment longer. Watch the sun set.”
“If you wish,” I say.
“Yes. Yes, I think that would be nice.”
There you have it. Hope you dug it.
And now, as promised, the cover reveal for my novella Fairy Lights, coming to darkfusemagazine.com in serial format in November and limited edition hardcover in December.
See you tomorrow,
Pic of the Day