Flash Fiction Aficionado

VOLUME 003

THE FALL ISSUE

FLASH FICTION AFICIANADO MY THS OF WONDER

MYTHS OF WONDER THE FALL IS SUE

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CONTENTS WORDS FROM THE EDITOR 6

BE CAREFUL

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WHY IS THE SUN YELLOW?

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WRITER’S SPOTLIGHT

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BASTET: THE UNAPPRECIATED GODDESS

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A DREAM OR A NIGHTMARE

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HOW MR. FROG GOT HIS RIBBIT

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A

Hello & Welcome

s Editor of this publication, it gives me great joy to read the flash fiction selections as they pour in for consideration. Flash Fiction Aficionado is one of the most significant literary publications available on today's open market.

Knowing that each of you is reading this magazine gives me strength like nothing I've ever experienced. For me, it means that each of you has committed to the success of our publication and the writers who contribute to it.

I

also draw my strength from the knowledge that many of the writers who contribute will go on to become the great writers of tomorrow. Knowing that I had something to do with their success, even in a small way, makes me even more proud of the work we are doing. These writers are people who commit their hearts and souls to the paper, and we honor those commitments by reading their work and falling in love.

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am a writer like many of you reading this right now. I work my hardest to make sure I give you the best parts of me when I send my work off into the world. My contributions to this publication are mixed in with those of some of the best writers in the world. These stories are a part of me. They complete me. I work at it daily so that one day I can count myself as one of the greatest writers who ever attempted this thing we all love.

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riting fulfills that passionate need we all have to express ourselves in unique and exciting ways. In some way, we all draw strength from each other as we complete this thing called life. And as a writer, that's what we do: we create life. An experience that is fruitful and filled with excitement. I write so that the world knows what my heart feels... and I know that why you create as well.

I

love that you love this magazine. As long as you keep reading it, we will keep producing it. Encourage everyone you know to log on, read a story, make a purchase and support local artist as they do what they love.

Celeste Williams Editor

Be Careful

Be Careful

BY J. Reid

Hera sat at the dinner table, a glass of Chardonnay in hand, patiently waiting. He told her that he would be late, but she never expected this late. She reminded him that dinner would be at 7:00. It was now 8:43 pm. The cherry incense smell had since faded. The baked chicken, the sweet peas, and the mashed potatoes were now cold. She sighed as she gave in to her frustration.

All she wanted to do was make amends for this morning. She’d fought with him about what she saw on his phone. Demeter was telling her lover that she’d had a fantastic night when they were together recently. What the fuck did that even mean? She was at home with the kids, and this bitch, the one he swore didn’t mean shit to him, was writing about what a great fucking night she’d had with the father of her children? Wasn’t it bad enough that she had to deal with Demeter’s bastard child as she looked like a fool in the public eye? To this day, he would still tell her that Demeter meant nothing.

Then again, Leto meant nothing as well. So did Semele... and Maia... and Dione too.

Invariably she was told that they all meant nothing to him. However, Zeus went and gave them all children and even a few feeble humans also. She thought she was special. Hera, the wife.

Hera, the queen mother. She was supposed to be superior, but it felt like she was nothing more than a figurehead, a symbol for the lead fool.

Zeus stumbled in finally, the smell of whiskey permeating from his body and into her nose, instantly inflaming her. Her gray eyes looked at him with disgust as he smiled and said, “Good evening, my love.”

“I’m sure it was a good evening for you,” Hera uttered with disdain as she swirled the wine in her glass.

Zeus gazed at the dinner table and said in a surprised tone, “You cooked? I thought you were kidding about making dinner after this morning. I feel horrible about being so late.”

“I wanted to start brand new. I felt horrible about the things I said and did earlier. I wanted to make amends. I guess you couldn’t give me that. Who’s turn was it this time? Calisto?

Leto? Maia?”

Zeus rolled his eyes and sucked his teeth. “Hera look, I had a rough day at the office…”

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Be Careful

“It’s ok. I understand my place,” Hera replied as she downed the remainder of her glass. “It’s just… perplexing how I’m your queen and you seem to think I’m stupid.”

Zeus sighed. “Here we go…”

“Here I go?” Hera screeched as she stood at the table. “I slaved over a hot stove for you. Tended to and put the kids to bed for you. All I asked of you was to be home in time for dinner, and you couldn’t even do that!”

“Hera, there were things at the office that needed my attention. Heavy is the head that holds the crown. You know this. Without me, things come asunder. I’m the reason why things run as smoothly as they do.”

“You’re right; I know this quite well. Hence why I made dinner,” Hera said with a devilish grin as she threw a plate full of food over Zeus’ head. The food hit the wall and splattered all over the floor.

“Hera…”

“Eat up,” Hera stated through gritted teeth as she walked away from her husband.

As if on auto-pilot, Hera wound up at Dione’s home. Mother of sweet Aphrodite, Hera hated Dione the most. Dione was the most disrespectful and, for her to have a daughter as beautiful and confident as Aphrodite, was a slap to the face. If Zeus had given Dione a male, it wouldn’t have been so bad, but Dione gave Zeus a child that mortals and Gods alike bragged about on a daily basis.

Men made songs about this child, and the Gods calculated the moment down to the second in which they could be with her. A travesty, indeed, but the spectacle of her presence in any room was enough to drive Hera insane. So what if Dione was first, Dione wasn’t a queen, Zeus didn’t make her so. So, why did she have such an air of authority about her? Why did she feel as though she were better than any of Zeus’ lovers... even me?

Hera knocked angrily at the door, and Dione appeared, her bronze skin and long hair flowing in the night breeze. “May I help you?”

“Is that how you address your queen?” Hera asked as she pushed Dione to the side and entered the home.

Dione watched Hera enter with a smirk as she closed the door. “Upset with your husband again, I see?”

“Stay out of affairs that don’t concern you.”

“Then what brings you here?” Dione asked as she took a seat on the couch.

“You know the answer, and yet you feel it necessary to ask the question,” Hera responded. She twisted the loose strands of her hair with one hand as she massaged her temple with the other.

Dione smiled as she sauntered across the room to the open chair. “Zeus and I are just fine, Dione. When the King and Queen are on one accord, the kingdom thrives.”

“Whatever you say, my liege...” Dione responded politely. “But you need to learn to deal with Zeus’ wandering eye if you want nights like this to go away.”

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Hera paused for a moment. It was the first thing Dione ever said to her that didn’t make her want to claw her eyes out.

“The best way to get over a cheating man... is to get under another one.” Dione rolled the advice off her lips like it was homey from the honeycomb.

Hera rolled her eyes at the thought of Dione making sense. Then, in a brief moment of clarity, she smiled.

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Why is the sun yellow?

Why is the sun yellow?

BY Michelle Early

In a small village, just off the coast of St. Ann’s Bay in Jamaica, lived a seven-year-old boy, Billy, and his parents, Vinla and James. Billy loved his house but what he liked the most was its location to the water.

Every morning at the same time, Billy would open his front door and run out to the seashore behind his house. Even though he was feeling a little under the weather, this was his morning routine and today would be no different. Once he reached the water line, Billy sat down, crossed his short caramel legs, and looked straight out at the flowing water. Just as Billy sitting at the shore, as usual, a brief chat with his best friend, God, was typical, too.

“Hi Billy, how are you doing today?” asked God.

“I’m ok, just a little sick today,” answered Billy.

“Ahh, I can hear the stuffiness in your voice. It’s just a little cold; I promise you that it will pass in due time.”

“Are you sure?” asked Billy, in his seven-year-old innocence?

God laughed and replied, “I’m pretty sure, Billy; I am God, after all.”

Billy just smiled at his friend and then looked back at the water. Sensing that something was bothering him, God asked, “So what’s on your mind, my friend?”

“God, I sit here every day, but I still can’t figure out why the sky is so blue, and the sun is so yellow. Out of every color in the world, why’d you choose yellow? It’s such a blah color…”

Billy said as his voice trailed away.

“Well, Billy,” God began, “Many, many years ago- before there were any people on the earth- I woke up one morning and decided to decorate the world. I did a little bit of work every day for six days, and then on the seventh day I rested all day.”

“So, on this particular day, I noticed that it was very dark, and I could not see anythingeverything was all black. Since I knew I had much work to do, I decided to turn on a light--“

“You mean like how mommy turns on a light before she starts cleaning?” Chuckling at Billy’s comment, God responded,

“Yes, just like when your mommy turns on the light before she starts cleaning.” Billy nodded in understanding as God continued.

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“So, I decided to turn on a light, and when I did, this bright light came into the sky. I completed

all the work that I needed to do that day and then rested for the evening. On the next day, when I realized I needed light again, I thought back to that bright light from the day before. I thought it would be a good idea to leave a bright light in the sky for people, so they could have lights to be able to do their work throughout the day.

“At first, I thought about making it another color, I started out with a pinkish color and then an

orange, but it was something about that yellow that stood out to me. But then, I realized that yellow is the brightest color ever created. To me, it made sense to make the sun out of the brightest color, because I wanted everybody, everywhere to be able to use it for light when they needed it.”

“Wow! So, you just wanted to create a giant light switch for everyone to be able to work during the

day?” asked Billy.

“Yes, Billy, that’s exactly what I wanted; I wanted to be able to help My other friends as they

traveled throughout their day,” replied God.

“And you chose yellow because it was a bright color?”

“Yep, it was just trial and error,” said God.

“Would you ever change the color again?”

God smiled a soft smile and said, “No, everyone is used to this color now, and I just want them to

be happy.”

“Well, I’m happy, God! The sun makes me very happy, and I love being able to come out every day

and see the sun shining in the sky,” said Billy excitedly.

“I am glad to hear that, my friend,” said God, as He stood up, dusting off sand, and preparing to

leave.

“Thank You for sitting with me and telling me about the sun; I always learn so much when we

talk. I’ll see you tomorrow!”

“See you tomorrow, Billy,” said God as He went on His way.

As Billy continued to sit in the sand, he reflected on his conversation with God. “The sun used to

be a different color…aww man, I forgot to ask God how long it was pink!” Billy realized. “I wonder if it was pink for a day or more. I wonder if anyone else ever saw the pink sun! I have so many questions to ask God when I see Him tomorrow!”

Later that day,

“Mama, I’m going outside to the water; I’ll be back later!” shouted Billy.

“Make sure you are back in time for supper!” Vinla shouted back. Shaking her head as she smiled

she added, “he just loves going out there to talk to God.”

Billy sat at the water and stared one more time at the sun as it began to set in the sky. As he

looked, he noticed that the bright yellow sun that he usually saw, was setting and a different color was beginning to show through. “It’s pink!” Billy shouted as he jumped up and down with joy, “it’s pink!”

Though no one could hear him, Billy knew that God had heard him. After a moment, Billy sat

down and smiled at the yellow, pink-ish sun that was smiling back at him. Just above a whisper, Billy said,

“The sun is a bright light so that I can see what God has done for me.”

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Writers Spotlight

Writers Spotlight

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he newest addition to the Flash Ficiton universe is the Writer’s Spotlight. This section gives us the oppotunity to learn a little more about quarterly contributors and people who are making an impact on the literary world of Flash Fiction. Our first writer showcased is Michelle Early. Michelle is a graduate of Morgan State Univeristy with a Bachelors of Science in Finance but a true love for writing. Currently, Michelle works as a Mental Health FIrst Aid Counselor and Motivvational Speaker.

1. Why do you write?

To me, writing is the equivalent of breathing. Before “picking up a pen,” I was suffocating in my life, and I had no outlet or “way to breathe.” Now that I write, I am breathing, I am sharing my testimony, and I am giving sound to my voice. Simply put, I write to breathe.

2. How has writing changed your life?

I learned how to talk from writing. Hard to believe, but I used to be the quietest introvert in the world.

I had a shell, within a bubble, and I hated coming out of either. Now that I write, I can bring people into my bubble, into my world, thereby destroying both.

3. If you could write a letter to your biggest influencer, who would it be and what would it say?

I hate to sound like a cliche, but my biggest influencer is Jesus. Since I know that’s not a fun answer I’d say Mamie Till. One thing that stands out to me about her is a comment that she made after the brutal murder of her son. She said that she thought the problems of the south didn’t affect her because she was in Chicago... then she realized that if something affects one person, it affects all people. That’s how I see life now, and in my letter to her, I would ask her how she learned to live after Emmitt’s death.

4. When did you realize writing was your creative outlet?

I realized writing was my creative outlet when I would spend time at my [former] job writing blogs every single day. Every time something happened, I ran straight to the computer and poured my heart out. I found that I had so many things to share, but not enough time to share them all.

5. Where do you see your writing career in 5 years?

I see my writing career as my primary career. I want to delve deeper into Christian Fiction and travel the world as I write. I want to write and photograph the world, showing others how God dwells in the world with us; showing His infinite beauty to all who read my writing or view my photos.

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Bastet: The Unappreciated Goddess

Bastet: The Unappreciated Goddess

“How may I please you, my king?” She said as she bowed to her master.

Ra was always pleased with his loyal servant and pet Bastet. She still went above and beyond for her master which earned her a special place by his side. She was a warrior and a mistress of sensual pleasures. Her body flowed like the Nile, and her eyes were the mesmerizing color of uncut emeralds.

“You have nothing else to prove to me, my dear. You are the epitome of pleasure in every sense of the word.” Ra stepped down from his throne and placed his hand under Bastet’s chin. Her eyes glistened with pride as her master praised her. The Sun God returned to his throne as she rose from her knees.

“My lord, the people of your new land have become restless…” She informed him with her head bowed. “They’ve begun to attack the guards that we’ve placed along the border in large groups.”

The eye of Ra was blind to no land that fell under his rule. He looked past Bastet and out on to the balcony that he surveyed his land from each morning after his nightly trip through the underworld.

“My loyal kitten please do not fret for the people are only doing what they feel will yield the best results. We will give them food and redistribute the responsibilities amongst them. They are frightened of the uncertainty of their futures my dear.” He said grazing his chin with his finger.

She bowed to her king once again and brought her left arm across her chest as she stood. She walked out of the throne room and down the halls lined with incense holders and statues of her master that were supposed to showcase his magnificence.

“I don’t feel useful or needed. At least the soldiers are needed for killing and capturing. My king knows all, and yet he still wants me by his side to regale him with the tales of the day.” Her thoughts had never felt more wrong than when they questioned her master. His plans never seemed to go wrong, and his advice was always the wisest. She hated the fact that it appeared that her input wasn’t needed or furthermore wanted.

She continued through the courtyard and down to the lower building of the palace. Her chambers were modest but also extravagant at the same time. She took off her minimalist armor and sighed heavily.

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BY J. C. Writer

“What is my purpose if my master knows all?” She thought to herself before entering the courtyard that had beautiful pools scattered all over. The surface of each pool was covered in beautiful white lotus, that when in her cat form, she loved to smack around.

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Bastet: The Unappreciated Goddess

“Rebekkah, come to draw my bath!” she shouted into the slave’s chambers that were off in the corner of her room.

“Yes, my mistress…” The ugly young Hebrew slave girl answered. She limped ever so slightly due to an encounter with her mistress’ wrath.

Why am I here when I could be tending to the safety of pregnant mothers and their children? Why does he string me along?

Rebekkah could see that her mistress was distraught, but she didn’t dare ask for fear of upsetting her. Bastet looked up from her thoughts because she could feel her servant’s eyes on her.

“What is it? What are you looking at?” She hissed as her eyes glowed with her growing anger. Rebekkah finished filling the bath and shook her head to indicate that she meant no offense, backing out of the room slowly. Bastet calmed herself as she descended into her tub of lavender and frankincense perfumed water.

What am I good for if he can see all that I have to report to him? I am not worthy of being in his presence alone. I am a Goddess who is not fulfilling her purpose.

She finished her bath and dressed in a flowing silken gown that trailed behind her as she returned to the throne room to be by her master’s side.

“My Pharaoh, my morning and evening star, how may I be of service?” She asked entering her master’s extended chambers before coming to kneel at the foot of his golden throne. He looked down at her with compassionate eyes and rested his hand on the top of her head.

“You fulfill all my needs Bastet, but I fear that there is some doubt of that in your heart.” He lifted her chin and looked deep into her eyes.

“Am I right, my dear?”

She could not break his gaze for fear of the disrespect she would inadvertently display.

“Yes, my king. I do doubt that I’m not fulfilling a purpose when you know all.” She tried to soften the tone of disrespectful doubt she cast with terms of endearment, but she stopped on a look. He looked at her harshly and sat back in his seat.

She cast her eyes back to the floor when she heard him sigh deeply.

“You doubt my love for you Bastet? You question my respect for you?” He gazed out the window to his right and tightened his grip on the arms of his throne. She never took her eyes off the floor because she could feel his frustration building.

“You are what grounds me, my calm and level head in the heat of battle and chaos. Where I would just lay waste to uncooperative villagers, you would give them the resources to thrive and to love us. You are my refuge when my crown gets too heavy.

“You are the reason my lands are not barren of people and animals. I consider your advice my love, I respect you.” He said turning his gaze to her. He grasped her chin once again locking eyes with her, and it was then that she knew why he needed her by his side.

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Alawi only wanted to matter. She knew that if she could Aficianado manage to Flash fiction make a difference in the world, then her life would have meaning. In the end, that’s all she wanted: to have a purpose.

BY Celeste Williams

A dream or a nightmare...

One day, she was walking near one of the smaller villages in the land, when she noticed an accident on the side of the road. She ran to the aid of the hurt villager, but he was already dead. Without thinking, Alawabi closed her eyes and looked to the Heavens for guidance. She placed her hand over the man’s heart and absorbed his fatality into her own body. Within seconds, the man was brought back to life, in better shape than he was before the accident.

When the villager opened his eyes, he stared at Alawi. Deep in her eyes, with a stare that questioned “Why? Why would she bring him back here? Why would she take him away from ‘perfection’?”

Alawi had no idea that she was doing something wrong. Her only thought was “to save this man’s family from a loss.”

However, did she do that? Did she save them from a loss, or give them an even greater one?

Alawi grabbed the man by the hand and lifted him up to his feet. With depression on his face, he brushed off his legs and turned to leave.

Having walked a few steps from her, Alawabi called out to the man with a burning question in her heart.

“Was it beautiful?” She asked. He stopped for a moment and turned to face her.

“For as long as I remain on this planet, I will look up and remember the wonderful place where I was… and the face of the woman who kept me from peace!”

With that, he turned and walked away from Alawabi. For a moment, she felt a heaviness in her chest that was unbearable. Then, with a deep gasp of air, Alawabi opened her eyes. She was laying in her bed in her quarters alone.

It was at that moment that she realized it had all been just a dream... or maybe a nightmare.

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How Mr. Frog Got His Ribbit

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BY Amy Lauren

How Mr. Frog Got His Ribbit

Long ago, in the Kingdom of Animals, Mr. Frog awakened in the brightness of the yellow sun. He stretched and yawned. Mr. Frog looked around, and said out loud, “I am starving. I need to eat very soon.”

Mr. Frog left his lily pad in the emerald green lagoon and hopped onto the soft green grass. He was looking for a fly to snatch with his long, pink tongue, but there were no flies around. Mr. Frog’s belly was beginning to rumble. He knew he needed to eat very soon.

Mr. Frog then began looking for a grasshopper. Surely, in the grass, there should be plenty of grasshoppers for him to gobble up. However, after searching for several minutes, Mr. Frog had no luck. His belly began to rumble again, but louder than it had been the first time. Mr. Frog thought to himself, “I must eat very, very soon! If I do not eat soon, I will surely die from hunger.”

Finally, Mr. Frog began looking for a caterpillar. He was so hungry that he could have eaten a horse, but there were no horses in this section of the Kingdom of Animals. After several more minutes of searching, Mr. Frog was unable to find any caterpillars either. He heard his belly groan again, very, very loudly this time.

Frustration and anger became his quick companions.

Just as Mr. Frog was about to give up, Mr. Cricket hopped over out of nowhere and stood in front of him. “Help!” said Mr. Cricket. “Please, Mr. Frog. I need your help right away! Save me, please!”

Mr. Frog slowly licked his lips. Mr. Cricket was his friend, but Mr. Frog was too hungry to worry about that. He decided to play along with him while trying to think of a plan to eat him. “Why, Mr. cricket, you are my best friend. Surely, I will do anything I can to help you out.”

Mr. Cricket looked into Mr. Frog’s big, green eyes, and breathed a sigh of relief. “Oh thank you, Mr. Frog. I just knew that I would be able to count on you!

You are the very best friend, indeed!”

Mr. Frog slowly started to feel guilty, but then ignored his conscious. He put on his best and bravest smile, and said, “I am here to help, Old Friend. What seems to be the trouble?”

Mr. Cricket lowered his voice to a whisper. “I was just in the fields with Mrs. Widow, trying to cheer her up.”

Mr. Frog thought for a moment. “Mrs. Widow… did she not recently lose her husband?”

“She did,” replied Mr. Cricket, “and that is why I was trying to cheer her up. Well, I got very close to her and reached out to hug her, but then the

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oddest thing happened! She pulled me into her arms, and then began to roll me into her sticky, white web! I was terrified!”

Guilt continued to gnaw at Mr. Frog’s belly, as well as hunger pains. “You don’t say!” he responded emphatically. “Why do you suppose she did that, Mr. Cricket?”

Mr. Cricket leaned in much closer to Mr. Frog, then whispered, “She was trying to eat me!”

“No!” said Mr. Frog. “Surely she would not have tried to eat you!”

“She said to me, ‘This is nothing personal, my friend; but, I am very, very hungry.’ I cannot believe this! I ran away, but then she followed me. I need a place to hide! Can you help me, please?”

An idea struck Mr. Frog right then at that moment. “Yes,” he said, “I will help you out, Old Friend. I will hide you from Mrs. Widow. Jump into my mouth, where it is dark, and you can hide from her.”

Mr. Cricket became overcome with joy and happiness. “Oh thank you, Frog. I am so grateful for you helping me!” Mr. Cricket hopped into his good friend Mr. Frog’s mouth and sat very quietly.

Mr. Frog thought back and forth in his mind. Should he be a good friend to Mr. Cricket, or should he consider his own needs? After much deliberation, Mr. Frog’s instincts kicked in, and he swallowed his friend, Mr. Cricket.

“Oh no!” he cried out. “What have I done? I have done a terrible thing!”

At his admission of guilt, the King of the Kingdom of Animals appeared out of the clouds. Lord Lion walked over to Mr. Frog and asked him in a loud, roaring voice, “Mr. Frog, I heard your cries of despair. What is this terrible thing you have done?”

Mr. Frog lowered his eyes and lied to Lord Lion. “Nothing, Lord Lion. I have not done anything. I had a moment, but I am much better now. There is nothing to worry about!”

Lord Lion looked at Mr. Frog and asked his question once again. “Are you honest, Mr. Frog? I am here to help you make good choices. What is this terrible thing that has you crying out in despair?”

Just as Mr. Frog was about to lie again, he opened his mouth to speak. Instead of hearing words, an audible “ribbit” was all that come forth. Confused, he tried to speak again, but “ribbit” was the only thing that came out.

Mr. Frog was very concerned now. He tried a third time to speak real words, but “ribbit” was the only thing anyone heard him say.

Lord Lion roared, startling Mr. Frog. “You see, Mr. Frog, you have told me a lie. Mr. Cricket is in your throat, trying to speak out to me. When you opened your mouth to speak, Mr. Cricket yelled out, “Help me!

“Because you told me this lie, you are now cursed with the ribbit. You will no longer be able to say real words anymore. From now on, when you open your mouth to speak, all anyone will hear is Mr. Cricket, crying for help.”

Moreover, this is how Mr. Frog got his “ribbit.”

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