"…his stories are always sharp and compact and interesting." ——Angel Martinez "(One of) the hottest authors in the independent horror scene…" —-Hellbound Books
AUTHOR’S NOTE: the draws for the July Flash Fiction Draw Challenge were an Adventure, set in the Asteroid Belt, involving a Pie Tin. Here’s what I came up with, and I’ll post the rest of the stories on the 20th.
The Pop Suit’s circulation filter was somehow cutting back on the dizziness so Manny could stand and gawk at the stars as the asteroid they were standing on slowly rotated. He could hear the hiss of air and the low beeping of his wrist adjuster, as well as Luke’s breathing over the digital link. He stared at the distant bulk of nearby asteroids in the Asteroid Belt seeming to set behind the near horizon.
“Hey, Manny! Get back to work!” Luke’s voice crackled in Manny’s helmet. He sighed again. Time to sift through more rocks on this potentially rich asteroid.
Manny Ruiz had been twenty-four when he’d been convicted of a mass-burglary scheme. He’d spent three-and-a-half years in a work-facility on one of Jupiter’s moons and was now on a “limited-release-work-detail.” This meant he could work for pay but not much pay. He’d signed on with Luke’s Asteroid Mineral Retrieval Service. In other words, they were mining the Asteroid Belt.
“Because the damn thing’s there, okay?” That was Luke’s usual response to why he was doing this. Manny had his suspicions about other motives.
Manny pushed the chunks of rock aside with the scoop that looked like a pie tin. Nothing was registering on the scan. At least there was enough gravity on this big lump of rock. He checked the scan device. It just wasn’t working. He realized he wasn’t even hearing the small regular beep from his wrist adjuster which sent off a signal telling where Manny was, a condition of his current status. He remembered reading that some minerals in the Asteroid Belt negated some electronic signaling devices.
Manny looked upward. He could see the Earth, a small blue dot, and the Sun further in the distance; it’s brightness filtered through his helmet’s visor. He glanced around. Luke was over on the other side of the small hill.
But he could still see the ship.
He moved over to where the small four seater craft with the big storage bay was parked and went in through the airlock. Once inside, he pulled off his glove and carefully twisted the band of his wrist adjuster off his wrist. He grit his teeth; it was supposed to be in contact with his skin at all times. But maybe whatever was jamming the signals was jamming the adjuster too. He pulled it all the way off his wrist and let out a sigh of relief; no shock, no alarm. The display read: “Unavailable.”
He quickly pulled on his glove and went out through the airlock, dropping the wrist adjuster on the ground.
“Free.” Manny breathed.
When he was back inside and had pressurized the cabin he took off. Luke would be okay, there was a space freighter that checked on them every couple of days to make sure they weren’t smuggling anything. They would be there even if Luke’s signaler wasn’t working. Anyway, Manny would be hiding with friends on Earth by then.
Manny was humming as he set the automatic navigation controls for Earth. The ship headed in the opposite direction. Manny tried to switch the controls to manual. Nothing happened. The ship went on darting through the maze of asteroids heading out of the Solar System.
The ship must have been pre-programmed and Manny had set it off. He glanced at an indicator at the far end of the console: there was something stored in the cargo bay. Luke must have programmed it to take off and return after dropping off whatever was in the cargo bay while Luke and Manny were busy on the asteroid.
Manny leaned back in the pilot seat and relaxed. Nothing to do but wait and see exactly who it was that Luke was dealing with. Well, Manny could make deals too. And whoever he was dealing with, they could always use a good second story man with mining experience.
“Yessir!” Chris said, lathering up the washrag. He had to admit, this was a lot better than what most of the guys who rented him put him through, Washing a guy’s back and ears probably ranked only as a three on the demeaning servitude scale. Forced sex with somebody who didn’t wash was probably down around ten. At least this guy bathed.
“So, how long have you been in this, anyway?” the man in the tub asked.
Here’s snippet two.
“That’s got to suck,” the man said. “Hey, wash my butt crack while you’re at it, okay?”
“Yessir,” Chris said as the man in the tub leaned forward. Chris realized the guy had no sense of irony as he rinsed and lathered the washrag again.
“So, what are your plans for the future?” the man in the tub asked as Chris scrubbed.
Chris hadn’t thought of himself as having anything like a future.
Can’t just leave it there. Here’s a little more…
“I mean, let’s face it, this isn’t how I wanted to spend the rest of my life.”
“Scrubbing complete strangers, you mean?” the man asked.
“Yeah,” Chris said.
As the conversation went on as Chris kept scrubbing, he realized it had been a long time since he’d really talked to somebody like this without fear of consequences. Then the man in the tub reached up and kissed Chris.
“And don’t forget to wash between my toes,” the man said.
Well, that’s it for this week! Until next time, stay clean!
“Perry, go out and see what the problem is,” Dad said.
“Aw, I went last time. It’s Marco’s turn.” Perry said.
“Your Brother is upstairs doing his homework,” Mom said. “So it’s your turn again.”
Perry sighed and walked out into the backyard. The evening was cool but nice. He could see the trees in the dim light from the house. He backed into the yard slowly, looking at the house and the roof which was in deep shadow.
And in the shadow, something moved.
It was at the north end of the roof which hung over where they kept the trash cans, where the big, tall TV antenna was fastened to the house, standing taller than the trees.
Perry’s eyes adjusted to the dark. Yes, there it was. A huge moth perched on the top of the antenna. He could just make out the silvery tint of its transparent wings. It was about the size of an eagle he’d seen once.
Perry remembered what he’d learned in school; the moths absorbed energy and were known to swarm around power plants after dusk. They also liked to absorb radio and TV signals, especially around standing antennas. Presumably they could do it in flight but they seemed to like to perch on the metal. It had been speculated that this was some sort of delicacy to them.
Perry sighed again. He couldn’t wave his arms and yell, the moth wouldn’t care. Water from the hose wouldn’t do it either. Last time they had moths he’d shaken the antenna; his folks were afraid he’d shake it loose.
He had an idea.
Perry ran back inside and rummaged under the sink. He came back with his Granddad’s old solar-energy flashlight, stood under the antenna, turned it on and aimed the beam at the moth. They didn’t like sunlight and this was close.
The moth fluttered and edged around, moving to where the edge of the roof blocked the flashlight beam. Perry moved to where he could see the moth and shone the light on it again. After a moment, the moth waved its wings and gracefully ascended to the sky. Perry stood there staring, he’d never seen anything so beautiful. Like an angel in black and white.
He stood there for a minute after the moth had gone, ignoring the excited calls of his younger brother that the TV was back on. After another minute, he switched the flashlight off and went back inside.
I’m the current moderator for the monthly Flash Fiction Draw Challenge, which was started by ‘Nathan Burgoine a few years ago and carried on by Cait Gordon and Jeffrey Ricker. It’s a monthly writing challenge mainly for stress-free fun that anyone can play.
Here’s how it works: the first Monday of every month (I paused for the 4th of July holiday!) I draw three cards; a heart, a diamond and a club. These correspond to a list naming a genre, a setting and an object that must appear in the story. Participants write up a flash fiction story, 1,000 words or less, post it to their website and link it here in the comments. I’m a day late, so let’s go for next Wednesday, July 20th.
As I’m no good making videos I did the drawing offstage and the results were a ten of hearts (an adventure story), the nine of diamonds (the Asteroid Belt) and the seven of clubs (a pie tin.)
So, get to writing and I’ll post the results next week!
Every week we post six lines from a work of ours, a work-in-progress or a work of someone else’s that has at least one LGBT character, posted on the Rainbow Snippets page, here:https://www.facebook.com/groups/RainbowSnippets
“Careful! Don’t burn your fingers!” Tommy Oliverez grinned, the light from the sparkler glinting off his dark hair and bright smile.
“Don’t worry,” Kip Starkwell said grinning broader. He was tall, lean and pale with stringy blonde hair; he wished he had better definition but he made up for it in other ways. Besides, Tommy liked him. They’d been going together for months. The neighborhood Fourth of July block party counted as a date.
Fireworks were popping around them in the city, bursting in the dark sky as the two young men raised their lit sparklers and tapped them together.
“Careful! Don’t burn your fingers!” Tommy Oliverez grinned, the light from the sparkler glinting off his dark hair and bright smile.
“Don’t worry!” Kip Starkwell said grinning broader. He was tall, lean and pale with stringy blonde hair. He wished he had more definition but he made up for it in other ways. Besides, Tommy liked him. They’d been going together for months. The neighborhood Fourth of July block party counted as a date.
“Hey, guys! I just heard on the radio…” Jayse Robbins pointed at his i-phone. “Big fire in a warehouse in Old Town.” As he spoke the three of them heard the distant sound of fire sirens, definitely more than one.
“Hey, Tommy, hold my sparkler, okay?” Kip handed the nearly burned down sparkler to Tommy and rushed off, yelling over his shoulder. “I gotta go take a leak.”
Tommy stared. “Shoulda done that before you left the house,” he muttered.
Kip ducked between two of the tall old apartment buildings and darted into the alley behind them, quickly shucking off his duster, t-shirt, shoes and jeans. He pulled a pair of welder’s goggles out of the duster pocket, wadded the clothes up and tossed them behind a dumpster. Quickly donning the goggles he muttered
“Fire, fire, blazing way
Carry me to the sky today”
In an instant, his skin radiated heat, then fire, then a sheen like molten rock, rippled with streaks of flame. In another moment, a twister of fire surrounded Kip and he swiftly rose into the sky, what was left of the clothes he’d been wearing reduced to cinders.
The shorts and socks were a total loss but I hadn’t washed the socks since yesterday, Kip thought. And he had to break himself of his habit, a crutch, of reciting rhymes like magic spells since he found his powers weren’t magical after joining the Crisis Squad Auxiliary as a full-fledged member a year earlier.
Flying over the city, Kip headed towards the orange glow over the older part of town.
“Yeah, there you are,” he muttered. “Let’s see if I can stop this before it goes any further.”
Gliding over the burning building he started to say a rhyme, then grit his teeth and concentrated. The flames on the upper floor suddenly leaped upward. Kip channeled them towards the sky where they burst like a firework.
But the buildings below him were still on fire.
Kip couldn’t hover, he had to glide so he landed between the two burning buildings. He’d have to channel that much fire in stages. At least he saw no sign of people, the buildings were deserted. But the buildings across the street had a night shift. The fire trucks were pulling up as Kip began to channel the fire.
Suddenly the flames in the first building were covered in a glassy sheath and in another instant, they dissolved in a burst of steam and smoke.
Ice! But from where?
“I’ve got this,” said a voice. “You get the other building.”
Kip quickly began the process of willing the other flames to rise away from the building and dissipate into the evening air. He was sure he heard somebody go “Oooooooh! Ahhhhhhhh!” like they were watching a fireworks display. The flames were gone in a few minutes when he yelled to the waiting firemen: “You guys better check that building! I can keep it from combusting but it’ll take a lot of effort.”
A half-hour later, Kip sat on the ground, nearly exhausted, still maintaining the molten covering around his face. All done, no one hurt.
A tall man in a silvery uniform and white cape walked up to him, the man who was the source of the ice.
“You did good kid,” he said. “Between us, we kept things from getting worse.”
Kip stared. He recognized the man.
“You’re the Silver Eye,” he said.
The man bowed with a flourish. “At your service.”
“But you’re one of the bad guys?” Kip said.
“And I’m also a city-dweller,” the Silver Eye said. “I was a kid 140-some years ago when my city of Chicago burned. I couldn’t let that happen again.”
Kip stared as a silvery mist surrounded the Silver Eye.
“But be careful, we are not on the same side.” Wind whipped around, dust and ash blew, Kip blinked and the Silver Eye was gone.
In another ten minutes, Kip managed to fly himself back to the ally where he could grab his clothes. Naked, Kip reached behind the dumpster.
“These yours?”
Kip wheeled, startled. Tommy was standing there, holding Kip’s jeans, shoes and duster. His face was wearing a slight smile.
“Then, then you know?” Kip said.
“Yeah. I figured it out a while back.” Tommy said. “No big deal. I always thought you were hot. This just cinched it.”
Kip laughed and put on his clothes.
“Y’know, I could probably figure a way for you to wear clothes that won’t burn,” Tommy said.
“Maybe later,” Kip said. “Party still on? I could use a soda. Maybe a beer.”
“And then we could go upstairs.” Tommy said.
“Sure.” Kip said.
“You got any, what do you call them, young protectors?” Tommy asked.
“In my dresser,” Kip laughed as they walked out of the alley.
“My boyfriend the superhero,” Tommy said, his arm around Kip.
Every week we post six lines from a work of ours, a work-in-progress or a work of someone else’s that has at least one LGBT character, posted on the Rainbow Snippets page, here:https://www.facebook.com/groups/963484217054974
Here’s snippet one from my story “Long Time No See” where we catch up with Andrew at his school reunion…
“What have you been doing with yourself?” Dewayne asked.
“Um, various jobs.” I said. “Worked out of a warehouse for a while. Drove a delivery van.” Got picked by some alien overlords for a few galaxy and time-spanning missions; spent some time in the 1800s, lived through Reconstruction twice, that was no fun, I thought.
Here’s snippet two, after Andrew finds that his unrequited College crush Kenny is gay and happily married to Marc. He asks Mark and Kenny if it’s okay if he and Kenny have the next dance:
Kenny nodded and we made our way onto the dance floor as the band slowed the music down. We held each other and danced and I don’t think anybody noticed.
“You doing okay?” Kenny asked.
“Yeah,” I said. “Yeah, I am.” The dance was worth waiting a hundred years for.
Okay, that’s it for this week! May all your dances be wonderful and may you not have to wait a century! ——-j
The late afternoon shadows stretched toward the first-floor corner window of the dorm. Inside the four friends sat around in the dim light, blinds drawn, radio turned low to a rock station.
Chris Goldman sat on the floor by his bed, his shaky fingers flattening the cigarette papers he had spread on the two dictionaries laying side by side on his dorm room floor.
“Okay, who’s first?” Chris asked.
“You go first,” Laura Scott said.
“Yeah,” Will McAndrews said kissing her. The two of them were sitting together on the other bed in the room snuggling in the space cleared by pushing Chris’ books to one side.
“I think I got this right,” Chris said shaking the dried leaves from the envelope onto one of the papers. “Hey, you checked that door was locked?”
“I should have brought the padlock,” Deborah Arno said. “We don’t want someone coming in and catching us while you’re rolling up tobacco when you could have gone down to the store and picked up a pack. You know they make them pre-rolled?”
“Yeah, yeah. I know.” Chris said. “Just my older brother said he used to do it this way and what’s the use of being here by ourselves for the summer if we aren’t gonna be adventurous.”
“We’re hardly by ourselves,” Deborah said. “They sure aren’t,” she said indicating the bed where Will and Laura were moving from PG to PG-13.
“Yeah, but we study, we eat, we go to class, we work,” Chris said. “These are the days we should be able to tell our kids about.”
“Like how this room still has a five year old calendar on the wall?” Deborah said.
The calendar, with a picture of a stagecoach in front of a Colorado mountain was dated 1977.
“That’s an heirloom,” Chris said. “It was here when I moved in with Pete. It had been here when he moved in. Look on the back, I think everybody who lived in here signed it.” He looked up. “I think they did.”
“You know, maybe we should all sign and date that thing,” Laura said.
“Mmmmmmph?” Will said, nibbling on Laura’s neck.
Laura, Chris and Deborah started to laugh.
There was a huge burst of sound as Chris suddenly sneezed, the echo hanging on the walls for an instant. The tobacco scattered onto the smashed shag carpet.
“Okay, so much for that.” Chris said, standing up and brushing off his pants. “Who wants to see if the snack machine over in Huffman Hall is working?”
“After that,” Laura said, “we can see if we can find a vacuum cleaner.”
“Don’t say that, you sound like an old movie,” his older brother Russ said, grinning.
They stood on the sunny dock staring upwards at the masted ship there in the dock at Gravity Cove.
“The Venerable Beade,” Russ read aloud. “Or at least, a good copy of the Beade.”
“Yeah, but we’re not here to gawk.” Danny said. “Commodore Reginald is actually paying us to investigate.”
“Yeah, but what are we looking for?” Russ said. “Still, it beats mowing lawns.”
The McFarlane Brothers had gained a little notoriety by figuring out who was blackmailing the heads of the company their Dad worked for and then uncovered who was stealing money from the High School. Luckily, the story hadn’t been on the news or they couldn’t do any inconspicuous snooping.
Which in this case was as easy as buying a ticket and taking the tour of The Venerable Beade.
The ship had been built on orders of Commodore Reginald who had bought what was left of the original Venerable Beade which had been wrecked nearly 120 years earlier after Admiral Blankenship’s unsuccessful attempt to sail to the North Pole. Commodore Reginald was wealthy and eccentric which explained why he was paying the two brothers to investigate a ship he owned. He told them they would attract less attention “than a raft of policemen.”
He wasn’t sure what was wrong, but he knew that something was.
“Watch your head,” Danny said as they walked down the steps. “And quit humming that song.”
Russ had been humming the theme to Gilligan’s Island. He grinned again.
The Commodore had taken pains to make sure that everything on the ship was the way it had been in the Admiral’s time, except for a modern navigational aid and a radio. Picture hung over the cabin door, curtains on the window, engraved plaque on the wall, navigational charts.
And, most importantly, original timbers salvaged from the wreck of the original Venerable Beade incorporated into this copy of the ship.
If it was the copy. Commodore Reginald had a suspicion that this was yet another copy, minus the historically priceless timbers from the original ship. Something, he had explained, had felt wrong the one time he had been on the ship since returning from a six-month stay in the Far East.
Danny and Russ looked around the cabin, admittedly gawking at items nearly 175 years old.
Then, Russ called Danny over to one part of the cabin and pointed. Danny stared. Then the brothers turned and looked at each other with widening eyes.
It was two hours later and the boys were sipping on sodas in Commodore Reginald’s hotel suite and telling them what they found.
“It was the plaque on the wall,” Danny said. “They were careful copying everything on the ship but my guess is they had somebody else do the plaque and they slipped up.”
“It was a prayer Admiral Blankenship had inscribed,” Russ said.
“I remember. ‘God be with us whether we turn this ship to starboard or to port or go forward,’” the Commodore said.
“When was the last time you looked at that plaque?” Danny asked.
The Commodore shrugged. “I probably just barely glanced at it when I was looking around before I headed East,” the Commodore said.
“You said something felt wrong,” Russ said. “Well, that was it. Even clever criminals aren’t all that smart.”
“How so?”asked the Commodore.
“The plaque in the phony ship doesn’t read ‘Starboard’ or ‘Port,’” Danny said. “Instead it says ‘Right’ and ‘Left.’ That’s not in the original, we checked online. And anyway, ‘right’ and ‘left’ are not something a Nineteenth-Century Admiral would write in a prayer about his ship.”
“Oh, I should have noticed,” the Commodore said.
“I bet you did but it didn’t register,” Danny said.
The Commodore took a sip of his cognac. “Now, how do we find my ship?”
The boys looked at each other.
“That’s probably out of our league,” Danny said. “I’d say you call the police.”
—end—
AUTHOR’S NOTE: I’d been reading through one of Leslie McFarlane’s original Hardy Boys mysteries, admiring his gripping storytelling and decided I’d do a riff on the whole thing. Hence, the McFarlane Brothers. Any errors in nautical terminology are mine. —–jeff baker, June 24, 2022
authorjeffbaker 