Every once in a while – I’ll start a short fiction piece with a direction kinda in mind. I’ve got maybe one or two phrases that I like, and the rest of the piece needs to flow toward (or away from) those initial statements.
Then there’s pieces like this one. I had a shot of a guy standing in a barren parking lot holding an umbrella. The blacktop was highly reflective with the water on it. The additional dragon’s bidding was to incorporate a fleeting moment.
The initial ‘key phrase’ that I liked and had to keep was ‘One winked at me.” I loved the idea that a reflection in the water could suddenly come to life.
I was adding and subtracting ideas from this, when the narrator’s voice thundered in my head…a mix of the Bronx and sardonic, nasally sneering superiority. Think gangster movies set in the 20’s.
Not the first time a ‘voice’ has emerged from my subconscious and taken over the way a story is written – won’t be the last. There are times I swear my muse is Rich Little.
Anyway – enjoy the flash piece – featured on Flash! Friday.
They say God works in mysterious ways. I say, his touch wallops ya like getting hit by a bus…
There I was, see, out for a walk. The air was damp, soggy, full o’ water. The kinda morning you carry that umbrella, knowin’ it’s gonna pour if ya don’t. Everything was wet, the blacktop deserted, but full of shiny, oil-slick reflections.
One winked at me.
Oh, sure, you’re thinking: “Bit early to be nipping the sauce, here,” but I swear to God…there was an eyeball reflected in that pavement, and it winked at me!
In that second, I could feel…everything. Every drip o’ water in the clouds, every speck o’ dirt in the wind. I could feel my blood racin’ inside, and every cell o’ my heart squeezin’ madly to pump that stuff through me.
And everything could feel me, too. I don’t know how…but I got judged, hard, by everything what makes up the Earth.
That eye in the pavement crinkled, narrowed, like one does when they’re pissed.
I knew then…I KNEW! Give up the dames, the booze, the smokes – stop living on the edges, and get back to the straight and narrow.
Then it was gone, like fog in the sunshine.