Tag: Flash Fiction

Lily and the Valley

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Flash Fiction

Photo by Alex Kinkate on Pexels.com

Lily spent fifty years scaling a mountain that held no form of life on it. Her quest, given at the time of her birth, was to find Valley and make a home there.

But how would she do this if the mountain that held no form of life on it spun continuously in the opposite direction of where she needed to be?

A revolving door? A nightmare? A terror? A thing no one wants around?

She needed to rid herself of this mountain and soon.

Tree and Sun tiptoed into her line of sight. Moon and Air brought their heaviest armor. Stars and Ocean swirled into the Air and channeled Tsunami. Monsoon held Highway’s hand.

A reunion took place no one envisioned.

Everyone gathered at the bottom of the mountain and raced to the top of it for Lily. They brought life to a place that had never seen life before. And soon, Mountain opened its eyes, breathed in the things circling around it, and panted ceaselessly.

It was alive!

And knowing this, Mountain cracked its body, shifted twists and turns, and knocked edges of rock off its back, creating a path for Lily. Swerving at the speed of sound, Lily found her way to Valley and settled into its embrace. She looked toward Mountain’s direction and noticed every form of life exited to their own assignments; leaving Mountain alone again.

“Valley, all it needed was life.”

“So life, it will have.”

Valley stomped her feet and whispered to everyone simultaneously, “Send tiny pieces of you to Mountain. Give it some of your life.”

And as each form of life did as they had been ordered, Valley and Lily offered up tiny pieces of themselves, too.

Mountain seized from the outpouring of love and cried tears of joy. Moments later; grass grew, lilies sprang up at every turn, rain poured in patchy spots, trees shot up from the ground, and life began living in a place that needed it most.

Lily and Valley stood in awe of their magic and inhaled the goodness around them.

Their mission had been accomplished.

The Burden of Not Knowing Who You Are

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Flash Fiction

Photo by Bave Pictures on Unsplash

Khair is a 17-year-old Junior at Westend Grove High School. He is the eldest of four children and his mother’s pride and joy. Daveed, his father, is a 36-year-old artist from Marseille, France, and his mother, Taya is a 39-year-old marketing executive from Long Island, New York.

They live in Dix Hills, a suburban community on Long Island.

When your parents seem as though they have it all together and you have yet to decide which college you want to attend or what you want to do with your life, the weight of it is heavy.

He has carried it for at least three years — struggling to breathe and walk in the skin he inhabits. His brother and two sisters look up to him — they envy him.

But he does not feel as though they should envy him. Anxiety wells up in his body with each passing day.

Where will I go? Who will I be? What will I do? Ma knew she wanted to crunch numbers and pitch to multiple million-dollar companies when she was in junior high. Dad’s been an artist since he knew what watercolors were. What is my purpose? Where do I fit?

In the dead of night, those words crowd his mind — putting his brain on pause to everything else, even sleep.

I like tinkering. I like taking things apart and putting them back together again. I’m the best at tackling the Ikea furniture, but I don’t like math. So, no to engineering. I love astrology — the stars and their alignment with this universe. I can map anywhere we need to get to geographically, but I hate traveling — so no to being a professor of astronomy or geography. Damn it! Why am I like this?!

Khair lets these words pummel his mind into submission and another morning arrives without his eyes closing for at least two hours.

His day begins without him.

“Ma. Lemme ask you something, please.”

“Go ahead, son. You know you can ask me anything.”

“Is there something wrong with me? Aren’t I supposed to know what I want to do and which college I’d like to attend by now? Why do I have so many things I am good at, yet I can’t pin one down to figure out which one is the best for me?”

Taya stands back on the balls of her feet — balancing herself gracefully as she sips her superfoods decaf coffee before she speaks to her eldest son.

The sunlight kisses the blinds perfectly. Light glitters her face just above her eyes. She breathes in a worried sigh and says . . .

“Son, there is nothing wrong with you. You’re 17. You are dealing with growth at a level many will never experience. You’re advanced in all your courses, and you’ve spent hours exploring this world at a pace some scientists cannot fathom. You will know when you know. And then, you’ll know. You get me, son?”

Khair, with a puzzled look on his face, stares at the warm smile that covers his mother’s face, and doesn’t feel relief — but he won’t tell her.

“I get you, Ma. I get you.”

Daveed is not a worrier. He leaves the hard problems for Taya to handle, yet he has a way with his children that often keeps them coming to him for advice. He makes himself available every single time.

Khair tiptoes near the entrance of his dad’s studio and taps lightly on the door. Daveed signals for him to enter and smiles gently.

“Dad, you gotta moment to help me with something about life?”

“For you, my guy, I have several moments.”

Khair blushes. No matter how old he gets, he’ll always love when his father says, “My guy.”

“I don’t know myself. I don’t feel like I have a purpose in life. I don’t know what I want to do or what college I would like to attend and time is slipping away from me, and — “

Daveed cuts his son off with one hand raised mid-way to the air.

“My guy . . . whose timeline are you on? What’s going to happen if you don’t figure it out by the end of this year or even next? Nothing crucial, I assure you, Mon gars. Respire, juste respire.”

He breathes in deeply as his father advised — letting his chest rise up slowly and then down. He closes his eyes and inhales once more, then exhales.

“Thanks, Dad. I think I know what I want to do. I even think I know what college I want to attend, too. Love ya!”

Daveed looks at his son and nods in his direction approvingly.

“Je t’en prie, Mon gars. Je t’en prie. I love you, too.”

Khair opens his laptop, selects his favorite internet browser, and researches, “self-care consultant, As he reads each line of what he knew was his calling, the burden of not knowing who he was slowly faded away.

Originally published in soliloque via Medium.

At What Point Do Bi-women Tell the Voices In Their Head to Be Quiet?

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How does one spend five years with someone and still not know them?!

Photo by Ugochi U on Unsplash

Single, Black, independent bi-women hear voices, too.

Beatrice is a 36-year-old charge nurse in the OR for St. Agnes Memorial Hospital in Blue Lake Falls County. She is a sufferer of migraines, a prisoner to insomnia, and a magnet for bowed-leg men who don’t know any better.

On the eve of her fifth anniversary of work, she began reminiscing about Mike. Mike with the double-dimpled cheeks, endless credit line, and badass walk. But . . . he was a stranger to commitment.

Why is it Mike?! Why would she think about him after the way he left things between them?

He still has two bags of clothing and a pair of shoes in my closet! The nerve of that man! He was supposed to come and get this shit months ago.

She looks around her somber bedroom for clues. Did he leave anything else? No. Just his voice.

And his voice, along with that of Charlie and Omaira’s, seemed to play hopscotch in her mind multiple times per day.

Charlie scooped her heart right from her chest, licked the pain away that surrounded it, and added more. Intentionally or unintentionally, she still isn’t sure.

Omaira had been a woman she met through a mutual friend (let’s call her Sydnee), who thought she would like to try something different. And “different” was perfect for her for five years.

Until it wasn’t. Omaira gave Beatrice one last orgasm before stealing her vintage jewelry, three pairs of costly heels, and the spare key to her car. The car — she had taken to a local chop shop. Easy money.

She wouldn’t find out Omaira had been battling kleptomania until weeks later. She spins the thought of it around in her head once again.

How does one spend five years with someone and still not know them?!

She hated this quality of hers; the knowing and unknowing of things she so casually continued to do. She wanted to hear something else. Anything other than their voices.

Needless to say, these were people she shouldn’t be thinking about, but she was. And isn’t that how love is sometimes?

It sneaks up on us in one of its best disguises, lures us in, carves out a piece of our heart, and then exits stage left — leaving us limp-lipped and unamused.

The alarm clock screeches. It is 06:00 AM. Another night without sleep. Another night without rest.

Another night of fighting those voices in her head.

Originally published in Prism & Pen via Medium.

Edward Parker

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Flash Fiction

Photo by camilo jimenez on Unsplash

Ed tossed the remote control to the far right end of the couch after flipping channels for the twentieth time. He slid back in his reclining massage chair, pressed the button to activate the slow pulse on his lumbar spine, and sank into the peacefulness of the night.

Sadie had been gone since Tuesday, and it was Friday. She decided to visit her big sister, Sweetie. She hadn’t seen her in four years.

The WWE’s intro sounded throughout the entire living room. He blinked his eyes a few times to keep from falling asleep. Although he never missed an episode, he struggled tonight to stay awake.

Working the second shift at the power plant was starting to wear on his middle-aged bones. Years ago, he could pull a double, parade around town until 3 in the morning, and still wake up to get another day going at work.

Those days are long gone now. Everything hurts. Even his fingernails. But money’s got to be made.

He silently berated himself for tossing the remote to the far right of the couch. The chair had gotten comfortable and he didn’t want to get up.

He smacked his weary lips, placed two fingers in his mouth, and whistled for his oldest child to come downstairs.

The young one appeared; doe-eyed and slightly aggravated.

“Yes, Daddy.”

“Edward Sloane Parker, Jr., reach on over there on that couch and get your daddy the remote control, will you.”

It wasn’t so much a question as it was a statement — a cool command. Ed, Jr. shuffled past his dad, leaned over hastily, scooped up the remote, and tossed it in his dad’s lap.

“That it?”

“Yeah, son. That’ll do me.”

The night air crept into the cracks of their old Victorian home, Ed settled into the grip of the reclining massage chair, pressed the volume up button on the remote, and closed his eyes.

“I’ll just rest them for a few. I won’t even miss the main event,” he whispered to the thin air.

When Ed woke up, the sun was beaming down on his beady eyes and the kids were racing downstairs to the kitchen to make breakfast.

He missed the main event. He missed the whole damn show.

Originally published in Hinged.press via Medium.

Their Hungry Hearts Were Fed in Full

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Flash Fiction

A brown/chocolate puppy with bright eyes being held by its owner: Photo by Joseph Biscocho on Unsplash
Photo by Joseph Biscocho on Unsplash
Their Hungry Hearts Were Fed in Full by Tremaine L. Loadholt

He lay in the middle of the road, shivering from the intense cold. Darius slows the car down to a stroll. Serena opens the door — tightens the feel of her winter coat around her, and rushes to scoop up the precious thing into her arms.

It is a cold, late autumn night. She and Darius had just left a charity event thrown by her company — a non-profit organization built on the premise of revitalizing their city and finding homes for stray dogs and cats. What were the chances they would land upon a chocolate Cocker Spaniel/Labrador mix in the middle of the road on their drive back home?

She looks into its eyes and rolls it over onto its back, staring past its belly to check its gender — male. She whispers to the drenched ball of fur, “Fate. I think we’ll call you, ‘Fate.’”

She runs toward their car, pulls the door open, and quickly slides onto the heated seat. Darius is thumping his ashy thumbs on the steering wheel. He stares at her intently and says, “Who could leave such a sweet baby to fend for itself out here in all this?!” His hands flail dramatically in front of him.

“I named him ‘Fate.’ I think he will be a great addition to our family, Darius. Sebastian and Nora will fall in love with him. They truly will!”

Darius and Serena had a two-year-old Goldendoodle and a four-year-old Maine Coon cat at home. Both were rescues. Sebastian, the Goldendoodle, had been found in a ditch three miles away from their home on a sunny July morning. Nora, the Maine Coon, had been seen running feverishly out of a burning shed one mile away from their church.

Their home had been a quiet, welcoming spot for both animals. And now, it will be one for Fate, too.

As they pull into the driveway, Serena towel-dries Fate with one of the heavy towels the couple keeps in their car as part of their “emergency kit.” The little thing moves gingerly in her care as if to signal he understands what is going on. She scoops him up and places a gentle kiss on his snout.

Inside their home, Sebastian sits with Nora in their living room — his fluffy bottom faces the fireplace. Nora nestles alongside his chest — sleeping to the sound of his heartbeat.

Serena tiptoes to their kitchen — pulls out a favorite brand of puppy dog food, and sprinkles one scoop into Fate’s bowl. Next to this hearty meal, she fills another bowl with fresh water. She places Fate on the floor and watches his reaction.

The puppy lunges toward the bowl housing the food — hungry for a meal he hadn’t had in days. He swallows hurriedly, breathing in small pants between each bite. He shuffles his furry little body over to the water and sips until his belly pokes out.

Serena’s eyes fill with tears. One slips away and slides down her cold face. Darius stands at the kitchen entrance and gazes upon his wife and their new baby as they bond.

Who’s feeding whom? Who saved who?

As time passes, Fate grows along with Sebastian and Nora. The three of them fill Darius and Serena’s hearts with so much love. The couple watches their three fur babies interact with each other daily. The connection can only be described as “kismet,” — they were meant to be.

And with Fate’s name literally tying the family closer, Serena knows it is time to announce their newest addition. She turns to Darius as he watches the threesome plop around playfully in their backyard, leans closer to him, and nudges his chin. A glimmer in her eyes appears when she says, “Babe, I’m pregnant.”

The news floors Darius. It overcomes him with joy. They had tried for years to conceive and now … they could breathe easier. As the two of them zoom in on their small family, they envision it becoming bigger.

The work they do — the families they connect with when finding the best homes for stray dogs and cats invigorates them.

How will they continue their cause with a baby in tow?

They can and they will.

Someone has to fight the brutal fight of maintaining beauty and comfort in their thriving neighborhood. Someone has to feed the babies of the world — both humans and animals. Someone has to clear the streets of garbage, lost sneakers, and cigarette butts.

Fate brought more to Serena and Darius than just peace — he brought love — deep, everlasting love.

And now, on a chilly night in late November, not only have their hearts bloomed with indescribable joy, they are fed in full.

©2022 & 2023 Tremaine L. Loadholt

This is a slightly edited version of a piece written for Hinged.press’ (formerly, The Weekly Knob) annual participation in “Thankmas”. Thank you for reading.

Originally published in A Cornered Gurl via Medium.