[Stylist] Trolley Ride flash fiction

[anniecms64 at gmail.com]

Hi,

You are very welcome. 😊

 

 

Ann Chiappetta, Author

Anniecms64 at gmail.com

` Making meaningful connections with others through writing `

 

914.393.6605

 <http://www.annchiappetta.c/> www.annchiappetta.com Facebook Annie Chiappetta

“We must let go of the life we have planned, so as to accept the one that is waiting for us.” 

*	 Joseph Campbell

 

 

 

From: Stylist <stylist-bounces at nfbnet.org> On Behalf Of Chris Kuell via Stylist
Sent: Monday, September 28, 2020 8:51 AM
To: 'Writers' Division Mailing List' <stylist at nfbnet.org>
Cc: Chris Kuell <ckuell at comcast.net>
Subject: Re: [Stylist] Trolley Ride flash fiction

 

Hey Annie,

 

This was a great flash piece. Thanks for sharing it with us.

 

Chris

 

 

From: Stylist [mailto:stylist-bounces at nfbnet.org] On Behalf Of Ann Chiappetta via Stylist
Sent: Sunday, September 27, 2020 11:33 AM
To: 'Writers' Division Mailing List'
Cc: anniecms64 at gmail.com <mailto:anniecms64 at gmail.com> 
Subject: [Stylist] Trolley Ride flash fiction

 


Trolley Ride


Excerpt from A String of Stories From the Heart to the Future C 2020 

By Ann Chiappetta

 

Tara didn’t like foil prints. They reminded her of those tacky velvet paintings sold at roadside stands down South. But this one was different. The headlamp on the trolley seemed to flicker, and the 3–D effect appealed to her sense of whimsy. She lifted it from the rack and took a closer look. The trolley crested a swelling hill; the steep sweep of Hyde Street sank below the trolley’s bottom like the first plummet of a roller coaster. Alcatraz Island filled the rear ground, gray and forbidding. She nodded, satisfied. This was how she wanted to remember San Francisco.

She looked at the picture again, not comprehending the shift when it occurred. The longer she looked at the water, the wilder it became. Her eyes widened. The headlamp on the trolley flashed in the afternoon sun. A conductor greeted a passenger. The brakeman fiddled with a lever. She looked away and glanced outside the small shop to the street beyond. No trolley.

She closed her eyes, counted to ten, and opened them. Vertigo gripped her the instant she looked at the foil print again. She watched, terrified, as a miniature doppelganger boarded the cable car and took a seat.

Hadn’t she just done this? She’d ridden the trolley down Hyde Street to the Embarcadero only an hour ago. Now she was watching it happen again. Panic and confusion remained with her in the shop as her double smiled in anticipation of a relaxing ride.

The photo–cum–video played out its scenario. The trolley carried the replica down the hill. She stood in this shop, yet all her senses were engulfed in the framed event. 

Tara tried to look down at her arm, feel the weight of the plastic shopping bags she knew were there, but felt only the hardwood bench under her other, earlier self. A familiar breeze brushed her cheek, and the briny air tingled her nose. She tried putting the picture down but couldn’t move. Fear bubbled in her bowels, and helpless tears stood unshed in her hazel eyes.

The cable car grated to a halt in front of the store. Horrified, Tara watched her other self enter the store, where her first self stood. The photo turned icy–hot, leaving her with a queer numbness in her whole body. It slipped from her grip, landed on a corner, and pirouetted before falling with a muffled thump onto the carpeted floor.

Glancing about, careful not to draw unwanted attention, Tara took a steadying breath, stepped over the print, and left the store.

 

 

Ann Chiappetta, Author

Anniecms64 at gmail.com <mailto:Anniecms64 at gmail.com> 

` Making meaningful connections with others through writing `

 

914.393.6605

www.annchiappetta.c <http://www.annchiappetta.c/> om Facebook Annie Chiappetta

“We must let go of the life we have planned, so as to accept the one that is waiting for us.” 

*	 Joseph Campbell

 

 

 

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