October 2024 Flash Lit 10:1 - Elbow Grease

“Mag, how do you find anything in this kitchen?” Cate demanded, looking at the jumble of pots, spoons, jars, and boxes garnished with the occasional spider on the pantry shelves.

“I know where everything is,” Mag replied.

 

Cate doubted it, since Mag had a carrot stuck in her messy bun, but chose not to tell her.

 

“We’re doing this the traditional way,” Mag went on.  “None of this newfangled lab kitchen stuff.”

 

“You’re using a food processor,” Cate said.

 

“I said traditional, not fucking stupid,” Mag snapped.  “I don’t want to spend all day chopping and neither do you.”

 

The two worked in companionable crankiness for a few minutes, Mag at the food processor, Cate at the stove.  The timer beeped and Cate said, “All right, I need your stuff in here.”

 

Mag scanned down the ingredient list, muttering.  “I added the eye of newt and the baby’s tears and the llama hairs and the toad slime.  Oh shit.  I forgot the elbow grease.”

 

The witches looked at each other.  Finally, Cate said, “We’ll tell them it’s the new low-fat version.”

 

Mag smiled.  “That’ll work.”

October 2024 Flash Lit 9:3 - Achilles Heel

The heel wasn’t
the problem.
He came from
a broken home,
his mother easily distracted.
He had so much to prove.
He wore armor anyway,
shining with pride,
chinking with insecurity.
He could not bear
a slight.
And then there was
the grief.
The man had many
places he could be wounded.

October 2024 Flash Lit 9:1 - Achilles Heel

Gil grumbled at everyone and everything.  His back hurt.  His coffee was too hot and then when he waited a bit it was too cold.  The newspaper, in addition to being printed in miniscule type, was full of reports about violence and fear, environmental destruction, and an analysis of a loss by his beloved Forty Niners.

Dee ignored him placidly and spread honey on her toast.  Some got on her fingers, of course, so she licked the sweetness off.  Gil looked up from his paper and said, “How old are you?”

 

Dee knew he meant she was too old to be licking her fingers like a child, but she answered, “Sixty seven, just like you.”  She was a young 67, still trim, her hair mostly brown, but Gil was an old 67, wrinkled from smoking, bent with arthritis, callused by life.

 

He snorted and returned to his paper.

 

“You finish up now,” Dee said.  Peter and Susan are bringing JoJo over soon.”

 

“Do they ever take care of their own child?” Gil groused.

 

Again Dee ignored him.  Time with a two-year-old was the best thing she could think of.  Besides, she knew her son and daughter-in -law enjoyed having Saturday afternoon to remember why they loved each other.

 

Half an hour later, Gil still sat at the kitchen table with his newspaper and a fresh cup of coffee.  JoJo zoomed around the kitchen on the wheeled caterpillar she was rapidly outgrowing making motor sounds.  She crashed into Gil’s foot and he yelped.

 

The little girl jumped off the caterpillar, hugged his shin, planted a kiss on his fleece-lined slipper, and said, “Make it better.”

 

Gil scooped her up and she nestled under his chin.  “Yes,” he said.  “JoJo make it better.”

October 2024 Flash Lit 8:2 - On Tippy Toe

On Tippy Toe

It can’t be done.

No amount of jostling

the shoulders of the crowd,

no standing on tiptoe

to peek over the fence,

no divination

with orbs or bones

or coffee grounds

will give a real glimpse.

There is no map

because no one has walked

its twisting ways.

 

The only way

to see the future

is to let it come,

both bold and shy,

hopping like

a little brown bird

into the present.

October 2024 Flash Lit 8:1 - On Tippy Toe

“She stretched herself up on tiptoe, and peeped over the edge of the mushroom, and her eyes immediately met those of a large blue caterpillar, that was sitting on the top with its arms folded, quietly smoking a long hookah, and taking not the smallest notice of her or of anything else.” Alice in Wonderland, Chapter 4

 

Allie had to get on her tiptoes to peer through the knothole into the semi-darkness of the shed.  She would have peeped through the window, except it was curtained with an old blue bath towel and a thick mixture of spiderwebs and dust.  Going in at the door was also impossible because Cat had locked it.  Allie wanted to know why.  She also often wanted to know who, when, where, and how, but right now why was top of mind.

 

Cat didn’t seem to be doing anything at all.  She just sat there, knees drawn up under her chin, arms holding everything together like the string on a roast.  The unenthusiastic lightbulb overhead made shadows under Cat’s eyes, or maybe it just lit her face so Allie could see the dark places.

 

Allie felt her chest tighten.  All the questions stopped mattering.  She just wanted Cat.  She kicked at the shed wall with her dirty Keds and pounded on it with her fists.  She didn’t notice the splinters in her hands or the aching in her toes.  “Cat!” she wailed.

 

In motion, Allie couldn’t see Cat anymore.  Crying, she couldn’t hear, either.  It was not until Cat’s arms encircled her and held her tightly that Allie knew she was there.  “It’s okay,” Cat said to her sister.  “I’m here.  I’ll take care of you.  Don’t worry.”

October 2024 Flash Lit 7:3 - Turnip Nose

His nose is like a turnip.
His eyes are Brussels sprouts.
He has a carrot as a lip
That bulges when he pouts.
 
My love is made of produce—
Onions in him, too—
But better that than be a goose.
I love my Veggie Stu.

October 2024 Flash Lit 7:2 - Turned Up Your Nose

“Got your nose!” Poppa said.

Nancy giggled.

 

“It looks tasty,” Poppa said.  “Maybe I’ll gobble it up!”

 

Nancy shrieked, half hilarious and half terrified, as her grandfather made slurping sounds and then swallowed loudly.  “Delicious,” he said.

 

He grabbed his belly.  “Oh dear.”

 

Nancy watched anxiously.  He heaved and retched, hands to his mouth.

 

“I guess noses, even tasty ones like yours, don’t agree with me,” he said.  “I better put it back on.”

 

Nancy lifted her face and he gently squashed his thumb on the tip of her nose.

 

“It looks better there anyway,” he said and kissed it.

 

Grace, in her five-year-old wisdom, turned up her nose at all this.  “Poppa, you are too silly.”

 

“I love you, too, Gracie,” he said.