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In, flash please? Also  because I failed to submit my last time.
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Jan 16, 2024 01:29
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| # ¿ May 14, 2024 18:37 |
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The what in my cave? 800 words “A hard hat? Those tunnels are so tall that we can walk through standing. I don’t think we need to worry about head protection tonight.” “The tunnels we’ve seen were tall, yeah, but who knows what they get like deeper in? I’m just looking out for the health of that magnificent brain of yours, Jonathon.” Becky gives me a smile almost bright enough that we could use it as a flashlight before she gently drops it on my head anyway. I shrug and go back to looking over our equipment for tonight. Multiple light sources? Check. Chalk to mark our path? Check. Bottled water? Energy bars? Double check. As I mark each item off Becky’s list, I place them in the backpacks we’re re-purposing since school won’t start again until after Labor Day and it’s barely August. Once we’re done getting three packs ready, I stand up to pull Becky to her feet. Her joints get stiff if she’s in one position for too long. A few seconds of her warmth this close to me will never not feel surreal. Before it lasts longer a car honks outside Becky’s house, she grabs her bag, I grab the other two, and we rush to a waiting pale purple Fiat. It’s the only car like it in town. “Yo, Batman and Robin, did you get it all?” our driver asks the instant our doors close. “Yes, Ryan,” Becky and I said in unison. With that, Ryan was off, her foot impatiently speeding us across Green Bluffs in less time than it took us to get through Bohemian Rhapsody. A bluff’s like a mesa, just smaller, and the three of us know every trail and cave we have access to on the one that gives our hometown its name. When a new one, perfectly half-oval, appeared literally overnight last week, we spent a whole Saturday chilling outside it in case whoever made it decided to appear. Only when the sun began to set did we get up the nerve to venture inside. It was too drat dark to see anything, of course, so we left to regroup and try again this afternoon once we had a few supplies gathered. Ryan parks. “I’m leaving a note on the dash in case we don’t come out,” Becky says, as practical as ever. “I thought your anxiety was better lately,” Ryan says with rolled eyes. “This is better than I was. Besides, I’m only doing what Dad does when he goes hunting.” “Fine, fine. Your dad does it so of course it’s the good thing,” Ryan mutters, but doesn’t take the paper off once it’s placed. She doesn’t lock the car so people can actually get in if something happens. Nobody’s going to steal something this distinct and everyone knows her father is chief of police. Becky takes point and before I have a chance to choose Ryan steps in between us. “You’re both bigger than me.” “You’re just jealous puberty hasn’t hit yet,” I tease and step out of range of a half-serious slap. I’ve had plenty of practice doing that – we’ve known each other since sixth grade. Gravel crunches under our feet. The passage widens enough to let Becky and Ryan walk next to each other for a couple of minutes before the darkness outside of our head lamps shrinks claustrophobically small in both dimensions possible. A cold breeze whistles over our heads in an unreal rhythm while we crunch, crunch, crunch deeper in the gloom. In the first “room” we come across after long minutes of tunnels, I reach behind me for my backpack. “Guys let’s take a break here while we can. Who knows when we’ll find a spot like this again?” I say. “Good idea, Jon,” I hear from Becky while Ryan’s light moves up and down at me. We rest against the rock walls, grab our waters and bars, and eat in unusual silence. If we were anywhere else having a snack there’d be a couple of conversations going between all three of us. But each of us decided not to interrupt the wind’s monologue. Ryan’s brave enough to go in front this time. She doesn’t get to do it long, though, before the tunnels widens into the largest cavern we’d seen since entering. It reaches up higher than a church ceiling and plunges down to inky water I can only now hear drip, drip, drip. The dripping and blowing wind fall silent only for another, odder sound I struggle to place. It’s definitely metal connecting with something but the rest of the noise isn’t familiar. I step away from the girls and swing my head lamp in the direction of the sound. What I can only describe as a dwarf straight out of some bad fantasy novel comes into view.
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Jan 22, 2024 05:56
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I ran out of time, not of ideas. But with the NFL season almost over, I'll have less taking up my precious writing time.
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Jan 23, 2024 03:08
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In. One card please.
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Mar 26, 2024 20:52
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Stormy Nights 1239 words Flash: Nine of Swords Stormy nights are the worst. Stormy nights past three AM. Nobody’s awake. Nothing looks good. Nothing sounds good. Nothing feels good. I close my eyes but instead of pleasant, familiar eigengrau, it’s only thick, crimson waves soaking into dark, stiffening denim. When will the memories stop – when I’m dead? Twenty years have passed since I became intimately familiar with those colors and textures but they’re never faint on stormy nights. ~~~ “Steph!” my big brother Billy calls out as he sweeps the shadows with Dad’s huge flashlight, in such a hurry to find his best friend that he misses spots whenever his hands shake. No more than 10 feet behind him, I try to hit the missed spots with the smaller flashlight attached to my keychain but in my hurried anxiety I trip over one large, floppy shoe lace bunny ear. The keychain, with flashlight, takes flight and smacks into one muddy puddle about ten yards away at the same time that I splat into another and slide a few yards in a different, darker direction. Mud oozes between my fingers. I wrinkle my face at the sensation. “If this is supposed to be a joke, it’s not funny. Steph!” I mumble to the mud and stand again. Lightning strikes; almost instantly thunder rumbles overhead and even the power in our home flickers. I know there’s gotta be no way she can hear us with the storm overhead but if I don’t try with every last cell in my body I won’t be able to sleep with myself whenever sleep is possible next. This is all my fault. Not even 15 minutes ago we were watching a super hero movie and now instead of continuing to the next one in the timeline we’ve gotta look for the reigning neighborhood hide and seek champion. Billy runs over to me, nearly slips on some super-soaked grass, but maintains his balance somehow and reaches out a hand to help me up. I take it with my clean hand, wipe the other off on my pants, and can’t make myself meet his reassuring eyes once I stand again. Only once I’m upright does he grab and hand over my flashlight. “We haven’t been in the tree house regularly since we outgrew it. Jane, do you wanna climb up there and check for her? I don’t trust my own weight on those planks these days.” Billy’s got a good point – Steph’s the smallest person in our grade so it’s safest for her to get up there and it’s a place I know she’s hidden from people before. My stomach twists hard at the idea of climbing a tree during an active thunderstorm but I don’t exactly have a choice. I made her run off and now I’ve gotta be the one to make her return. For some reason I can’t make myself say that. Instead, I squish through rain and mud until I reach the massive maple we’ve used as a meeting place as long as we’ve lived here. Huge beads of water drip like tears from the leaves and then flow like sobs from the branches as I climb the planks cracked from age and weather. Roughly ten feet off the ground, the steps end and a broad, stubby shelter begins. The wind blows a hunk of white thread in my face. Steph’s wearing a delicate white top! I have to pause because at this sight, my throat clenches too hard for me to breathe for what feels like hours but can only be seconds. At the first sound of wood creaking uncomfortably, I force myself up the final planks, crouch like I’m avoiding guards in the stealth section of a video game, and step into the tree. Fortunately Steph is there. Unfortunately she doesn’t look happy to see me. “Go away! I hate you!” she yells and backs away as much as the space allows. “I told you a big secret and you don’t care at all!” Her words make me wince but I hold my ground. “Of course I care that you’re in love with Billy! I care very much and that’s why I’m not lying to you. He and I have talked to each other our entire lives about what we do and don’t have in common as twins. One big difference is that he’s both asexual and aromantic. Billy doesn’t like it about himself so he’s asked me to break hearts in his place.” Sadly Stephanie wasn’t the first or even the second girl to tell me about her feelings. One person told Billy themselves and I heard from him that it was so awkward he never wanted to go through that again if possible. It’s small compared to the things he’s done for me and I consider it a fair trade. A prolonged gust blows hard enough that the walls, or maybe the ceiling, creak and sway to one side. Stephanie’s eyes get huge but she doesn’t come closer to the trunk, or to me. I hold onto the trunk with one hand and reach to her with the other. This suddenly isn’t a safe place to stay and we both need to get to the ground. My heart beat exactly three times before lightning once again strikes so closely that there’s barely any gap between it and the thunder. Six more heartbeats later, she whimpers and grabs my arm. I tug her towards me hard. Too hard. Gravity is too fast for me! We both scream as it pulls her past me out of the tree, head first towards the ground. I skip planks but it’s still not fast enough. I can only hear Steph scream, can only turn towards her as she collides with the mud. “Billy! 911!” I cry out before my knees give way and once again I hit the soaked earth. I pull myself towards the impact site and the world around me shrinks while my head feels like it grows and bounces around like a bobble-headed sports figure. This can’t be real. I can’t be soaked and covered in mud, unable to make my legs work while Stephanie’s blood oozes out from under her. Blood and mud and rain cling to my jeans, turning the denim a sick red-black-brown mess I know I’ll have to throw out at the end of the night. If it’s real then why does it all feel like a dream? I know it’s bad to move her but my hands turn her head on their own, just enough to let our eyes meet. My throat is clenched as tightly as it can get now, rendering speech impossible and breathing painful. Her lips part as if she wants to say something else to me but I can only hear the storm. ~~~ Nearly every adult in my life told me that it wasn’t my fault. Billy still tells me it wasn’t my fault. Most of the time I believe him and them. On stormy nights when I’m alone, it becomes almost impossible. If I didn’t pull, Steph wouldn’t have the momentum to fall. If I didn’t break her heart, Steph wouldn’t have run out in the storm. Her mother blamed me to my face early and often. She still does if given the chance. Tonight’s weather is bad enough that it knocks the power out, sparing me from seeing anything other than darkness until sleep finally arrives.
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Apr 1, 2024 06:39
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