October Flash Lit #11 - Survival Kit

“As they walked off together, Alice heard the King say in a low voice, to the company generally, ‘You are all pardoned.’  ‘Come, that’s a good thing!’ she said to herself, for she had felt quite unhappy at the number of executions the Queen had ordered.” Alice in Wonderland, Chapter 9

First, get a box.  No, not that one with the flimsy pancaking inserts to separate wine bottles.  One that still has the flaps for the top, or, better yet, one of those banker’s boxes with the lid.  You want something sturdy and those handles could come in, well, handy.

Next, take the box somewhere private.  This part might be hard, but take advantage of any distractions that occur to get the box hidden in your closet or behind the tangle of garden implements in the garage.  Don’t tell anyone.

Then, as you assemble the other things, you have a safe place to keep them.

Every kit is, of necessity, unique.  You will have to adapt to your own needs, but consider including items from the following categories:

            • Food.  You need to keep up your strength.  Also, there is nothing quite as comforting as chocolate.

            • Comfort.  You may need a jacket or a blanket or both.  If you expect to stay a long time, a pillow can come in handy.  Do not bring shoes that pinch or clothes that restrict movement.

            • Concealment.  A blanket can do double-duty in this category.  Identity can be shifted with hats, dark glasses, etc.  If you need to conceal the surroundings rather than yourself, earphones can be used.

When you have everything together, shrink yourself down.  Smaller is better.  They can’t get you if they can’t see you.  Try not to make too much noise—it draws attention and that can destroy everything.

Open the book covers and slip inside.  Stay there until the danger passes.  It might be a while.

October Flash Fiction #10 - Missed it by that much

“I don’t think they play at all fairly,” Alice began, in rather a complaining tone, “and they all quarrel so dreadfully one can’t hear oneself speak—and they don’t seem to have any rules in particular; at least, if there are, nobody attends to them—and you’ve no idea how confusing it is all the things being alive:  for instance, there’s the arch I’ve got to go through next walking about at the other end of the ground—and I should have croqueted the Queen’s hedgehog just now, only it ran away when it saw mine coming.” Alice in Wonderland, Chapter 8

Perhaps the best way to tell the story is to say it was the flamingo’s fault.  The flamingo, being plastic and thus likely totally inert and without a soul, won’t mind taking the blame.  And it gave me this scar right here on my shin.  Let me rub the dirt off so you can see.  Well, that didn’t work very well, did it?  You’ll have to take my word for it, although then I won’t have a word anymore and it will make it harder to tell the story.  I’m getting distracted.  What was I talking about again?  Oh, yeah, card games.  See, it was late on a Thursday night and we played hearts on Thursdays back then with friends.  I don’t know what possessed Jules to try to shoot the moon—that almost never works in hearts and I say this as someone who loved him a lot for his boundless optimism and his ability to dream up crazy plans like the time he tried to make an underwater tunnel for the fish in the koi pond in the yard and the basement flooded and all the family photos got kind of moldy and my grandma got this mildew mustache that made her look like a walrus.  The carpenters came and fixed it all up again.  Well, not grandma’s mustache—that was beyond repair—so I said a few words about how she used to love oysters and I dropped a few tears on the mildew and put her in the recycling bin.  Anyway, Jules tried to shoot the moon and missed it by just the two of spades, mostly because someone had inadvertently tucked it under a napkin at the other end of the table, not that I would ever accuse Jack of cheating in a purposeful way—he’s not that smart.  My feet were hurting from all the work making soup stock—it was a beautiful soup, roasted red pepper and cream in the chicken base with a swirl of pesto on top—and I had made the apple tart, too.  That’s why I lost my temper and shouted at Jules for being such an idiot.  It had nothing to do with the fact that he’d been sneaking out back for cigarettes and snogging with Jack’s hoity-toity girlfriend.  He stormed out, of course.  And then I tripped on the stupid lawn flamingo running after him and I’ve never been the same since.

October Flash Fiction #9 - Night's Beginning

“At this moment her thoughts were interrupted by a loud shouting of ‘Ahoy!  Ahoy!  Check!’ and a Knight, dressed in crimson armour, came galloping down upon her, brandishing a great club.  Just as he reached her, the horse stopped suddenly:  ‘You’re my prisoner!’ the Knight cried, as he tumbled off his horse.” Alice Through the Looking Glass, Chapter 8

It was nearly dark outside the library windows because of the clocks.  Amy wasn’t exactly sure what clocks had to do with light, but the practical result was that she got picked up from the after school program after sunset.  She was looking at the windows because looking at the chess board was getting discouraging.

The board wasn’t actually a board.  It was a cloth about a yard square, woven in black and white.  The chess pieces were wood, flat cutouts slotted into bases and painted with shiny enamel paint.  The brushmarks could have been like manes on the knights, but they weren’t; they all ran vertically.

Amy had lost one of her knights already.  He stood in a paddock made of pawns on Jenny’s side of the board.  In fact, she was down to her pale king, a pawn, one disgruntled rook with lopsided crenellations from being dropped so often, and the other knight.  Jenny slid her queen on the diagonal and took the rook.

For just a moment, Amy felt triumphant; her knight sprang forward and took the queen, but toppled a moment later under Jenny’s castle and her decisive cry:  “Checkmate!”