An aurora and a flash of fiction

Yo. I've decided to try something new this month, so I'm going to share some flash fiction I wrote in the darkest depths of the nights I should have been sleeping through. One was written between approximately 4:00am and 4:15am, and the other from 5:06am to 5:12am on a separate night.

Don't worry: I am actually sleeping sometimes. My sleep schedule just bounces back and forth like an electrocardiogram. I'm working on it.

This month was more than flash fiction and writing, of course. Ashley and I went down to see John Green speak at a university, after I had twice before bought tickets to see him elsewhere and been unable to actually go, and then by sheer coincidence saw our first aurora. The latter's been a bucket-list item for me for a while, and we only found it because someone told us to look up as we were exiting the grocery store under a starry, increasingly green-tinted sky.

Anyway, the thing I like about flash fiction is that it isn't necessarily meant to deliver a message or resolve anything; to me, it feels like being given a chance to hike through the woods, rather than up a mountain. There's no end point: we're just looking. It's pretty out here in the woods, after all.

So here they are.

First hike: Crows and the things they pine for

The two crows didn't care much for the construction.

"I want avocado, Terry, and lox. I want whatever it is they mean when they say everything. I want . . . not . . . not capers—"

"You don't like capers, Ren. But I don't think we're supposed to eat some of—"

"Not capers. But those other things. If I drop a few bills onto the foreman's desk, do you think he'll splurge on breakfast?"

"It's the she this time, Ren. And probably not. How many bills do you even need? I can't read numbers, Ren."

"I've a couple, Terry, but I don't know if they're even the right kind! If I have to eat another plain with butter, I swear to you, I'm heading to the forest for a few weeks to live off of . . ."

Ren shuddered.

". . . mice."

"You don't mean that! The students will be back any day now, you know this!"

"Ah, students. Careless with their loan money, careless with their bagels. Fine. But—"

A flash of green blurred past the reflection in the window of the local bagelry.

"IT'S—"

But before Ren could seize his avocado destiny, a darker blur launched out of the drain in the side of the road and darted back under.

Ren's eyes followed her striped tail and sank beneath the street, his heart sinking with them.

"Well you know Susie, at least, Ren. It's for the babies."

Ren sighed.

"It's for the babies, Terry. But I'm for the forest."

Ren lifted off of the edge of the roof toward the northern skies, without avocado, lox, or dried bits of forbidden everythings to keep his poor stomach company.

Second hike: What the well holds

Something shone down there, brighter than anything she could readily explain.

She wasn't stupid, of course. She was too old to think it was something nefarious. She just wasn't too old to let curiosity take the wheel of her consciousness, nor would she ever be, if she had her way about it.

So far, she knew a handful of facts about the well, and lacked the only one that mattered.

She knew it didn't hold a key to an eldritch pocket dimension, or a lens that could show her more than most can see. She knew it didn't hold the body of a psychic, or any curses stemming from one. She even knew that there weren't any neighbor kids or their oddly cognizant collies. Probably.

But she knew there was something very, very bright down there. And she knew the adults didn't like to be asked about it.

That's it for this month. I'd like to try the flash fiction thing again, so I think I might write two more in December, with one of them being a continuation of one of the above stories, to make sure I get some practice going further than just a scene or two.

I'm going to leave the question of which one I continue up to y'all: if you respond to this email with the word crow or well or a cleverly chosen emoji, I'll make sure whichever story gets more votes gets a second part next month.

Take care, and keep blooming.

Martin

In case we missed each other on the algorithmic seas, here are the other things I’ve been sharing this month:

PS: there’s a reason Terry tries to warn Ren about the everything seasoning. Please don’t feed crows garlic. In fact, probably research everything you might think to feed anything ever before you go around assuming we’re in a magical world where crows want everything bagels. Apologies for getting your hopes up.