[stylist] flash fiction

Tue Mar 18 18:51:18 UTC 2014

HI Chris,

I'm not really acquainted with flash fiction or what it's outlines are 
--maybe you would help me there-- but I enjoyed this piece anyway.

--Bill

On 3/18/2014 10:42 AM, Atty Rose wrote:
> I loved this piece. It was put together is vivid visuals.
>
> And humor too!
>
> I think though you should have a few more words about Miky. I thought 
> at first it was the couple talking about him and had to go back and 
> re-read it to realize what was up. Since it is important to the story 
> I suggest a few more words on it.
>
> Well done!
> Atty
>
> ----- Original Message ----- From: "Chris Kuell" <ckuell at comcast.net>
> To: <stylist at nfbnet.org>
> Sent: Tuesday, March 18, 2014 10:35 AM
> Subject: [stylist] flash fiction
>
>
>> Greetings. Below is a 495 word flash fiction piece I'm getting ready 
>> to submit to several of the markets Atty posted. All comments and 
>> suggestions are welcomed.
>>
>>
>>
>>
>>
>>
>> We Three Kings
>>
>>
>>
>> By Chris Kuell
>>
>>
>>
>> Ashes to ashes, that's what the Bible says.
>>
>>
>>
>> I watch a gangsta-wanna-be dude and his Puerto Rican girlfriend 
>> stroll out of the FoodBag close enough it looked like they were in a 
>> three-legged race. They come to the window, her skirt so short I can 
>> almost see the Holy Grail.
>>
>> "How much to Albany?" Gangsta-dude says.
>>
>>
>>
>> "That's a hundred miles, plus I gotta come back. Two-hundred fifty, 
>> and I don't take checks."
>>
>>
>>
>> He flashes a wad as thick as a T-bone and the two of them tumble into 
>> the back seat. I drive. They murmur conversation for two, then 
>> fire-up cigarettes. The dude keeps lighting an old-fashioned Zippo, 
>> then flipping the lid shut to snuff it out. Flick, clop. Flick, clop. 
>> The sound is rhythmic, like the clapping of horse hooves on cobblestone.
>>
>>
>>
>> "It's only the Guard," Mikey had said. How could I protest? He'd seen 
>> me polishing the M-16; watched the shadows fall.
>>
>>
>>
>> Evening crept its way along the horizon. A bottle of clear sunshine 
>> passed back and forth in the rear seat.
>>
>>
>>
>> "Six-months," Mikey had said. "Back in time to help put the dock in."
>>
>>
>>
>> The windows fogged. Tongues touched. I caught a glimpse of chocolate 
>> nipple in the rear view mirror. How sweet it is.
>>
>>
>>
>> "Helicopters," Mikey had said. "Blackhawks."
>>
>>
>>
>> She catches me looking. Pushes Romeo away, re-buttons her blouse. 
>> Flick, clop. Flick, clop.
>>
>>
>>
>> "It's unreal," Mikey had said. "Up high, it's like a bunch of 
>> campfires. Makes me want to toast marshmallows."
>>
>>
>>
>> More murmuring, unpacking. Gangsta-dude sucks on a neon glass pipe. 
>> The girl eats a Ho Ho.
>>
>>
>>
>> ""None of that shit in here."
>>
>>
>>
>> The exhale stinks of burnt plastic, molten garbage bags. Flick. Now 
>> it's the girl's turn. Clop.
>>
>>
>>
>> "Extra-armor plating," Mikey had said. "Practically impenetrable."
>>
>>
>>
>> I pull over into the breakdown lane, tires rumbling on the gravel. 
>> Gangsta-dude puts a piece behind my ear. The hard metal is 
>> undeniable. "Keep driving, Pops, or I'll make guacamole outta yo 
>> brains."
>>
>>
>>
>> The two soldiers were waiting for me at the front door. Uniforms 
>> perfect, medals shiny, faces tight. You know its bad news when they 
>> come in twos.
>>
>>
>>
>> I push the gas pedal to the floor. Forty, fifty, sixty.
>>
>>
>>
>> "Okay, Pops, don't be stupid."
>>
>>
>>
>> Seventy. Seventy-five. Pressure from the barrel cuts my skull, helps 
>> me focus. Eighty.
>>
>>
>>
>> "I'll blow your fuckin' head off."
>>
>>
>>
>> "Don't!" the girl screeches.
>>
>>
>>
>> All of this has happened before. All of it will happen again. That's 
>> what the Bible says.
>>
>>
>>
>> Gangsta-dude is across the seat pulling at my leg, sweat beading off 
>> his neck. Eighty-five. Ninety.
>>
>> A half-mile ahead, red lights blink on a broken-down natural gas 
>> truck, just like the stars over Bethlehem.
>>
>>
>>
>> "Jesus," the girl cries.
>>
>>
>>
>> "Love you, Dad," Mikey had said.
>>
>>
>>
>> We will meet again at the banquet of all banquets. That's what the 
>> Bible says.
>>
>>
>>
>> "I love you too," I say.
>>
>>
>>
>> One hundred and two.
>>
>>
>>
>> Upon impact, I finally understand. Heaven is a Supernova.
>>
>>
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>
>
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