Fictional Feast 2018

HOSTED BY THE 2018 FLASH FICTION ELECTIVE

FICTIONAL FEAST MENU, FRONT AND BACK

FLASH FICTION 2018

In the anthology Sudden Fiction, Joyce Carol Oates describes very short fiction as “nearly always experimental, exquisitely calibrated, reminiscent of Frost’s definition of a poem—a structure of words that consumes itself as it unfolds, like ice melting on a stove.”

Over the course of the semester, seventh and eighth grade students in LiAnn Yim’s 2018 Flash Fiction elective read, discussed, wrote, and workshopped a variety of flash fiction—very short stories under 1,000 stories. They experimented with language, brevity, implication.

For their culmination, they presented a fictional feast. As guests—parents, students, teachers—entered the classroom, they were invited to take a seat at a countertop table. Each place setting had a menu of fictional offerings, arranged by word count: amuse-bouche (six word stories, two sentence stories, 25 word stories), appetizers (50-150 word stories), mains (200-500 word stories), and desserts (15-250 word sweet and bittersweet stories).

Guests could order as many stories as they wished to feast on—as well as order stories from the “Specials” menu.

Amuse-Bouche a small complimentary appetizer

FLASH FICTION 2018

She Never Cried Lachlan C.

Her mother did it for her.

FLASH FICTION 2018

To Kill a God Lachlan C.

It stood in the darkness of the absent night, one thousand eyes like Egypt staring back at me. It had lived a coddled life on the palace grounds; never once had it seen hungry eyes.

FLASH FICTION 2018

She Gave and They Took Gabe A.

No noose, knife, or empty cup.

Nothing but a newborn baby.

FLASH FICTION 2018

The Ducks Xander Y.

Joe sprinted through the house, locking every door and closing all the windows. He ran towards the basement and stopped, realizing that he had forgotten to lock the dog door...but it was too late—the ducks were already inside.

FLASH FICTION 2018

Broken Owen H.

Shards of glass covered the asphalt. Shards of Michael covered the glass.

FLASH FICTION 2018

Weak Spot Nora N.

He had one bullet, but the dragon was closing in fast.

FLASH FICTION 2018

Disappearance Nora N. & Corinne W.

I stared out of glazed eyes, watching as my family frantically searched for me. I tried to call out, but my china lips wouldn’t budge.

FLASH FICTION 2018

Hunter and the Hunted Isabelle H.

It swirled beneath the waves, creating a whirlpool. He’d find it one day.

FLASH FICTION 2018

Murderer, 8-years-old Elle D.

It haunts me every time I pass by the broken down store, especially when the occasional wisp of that unmistakable smoke floats out. No, I didn’t kill my mother, but I may as well have walked her to death’s doorstep.

FLASH FICTION 2018

Case Closed Corinne W.

She was found on Eckford and Norman. Her boyfriend told the police, “She had her earphones in, so she must not have heard the attacker.”

Appetizer before a d e rv e s h is d ll a m as

meal

FLASH FICTION 2018

A True Believer Owen H.

A man sat in the corner of a bare room, his head down.

“Where are they?”

Silence.

“If you’ll just talk, I won’t have to get my… tools,” he said while glancing to the corner.

Silence.

“This is a new shirt. I don’t want to stain it.”

Silence.

“Last chance to say something… nothing? OK, then.

Just remember—this was your choice, not mine.”

Fifty two screams. That’s how many it took to get the man to talk, and he said only one thing: “You will never succeed, for we are loyal. Loyal to hope.”

And then the screams continued.

FLASH FICTION 2018

The Child Isabelle H.

What he didn’t know was how equally colorless the outside world was. How incredibly uneventful. He set out to see the trees. He set out to see the animals, the rivers, the mountains. The only animal he’d ever seen was his dog, currently deceased. It had been a gift for cleansing his family of his useless brother, Chris. His mother had gotten tired of his constant warbling, but his father had fought her—claiming that Chris was the most prized of the children, the most youthful, the most creative. The boy was never enough for his father. Naturally, he jumped at the chance to please his mother, who constantly looked down on him. As if he were nothing more than the dead dog.

FLASH FICTION 2018

The Road to Nowhere Lachlan C.

It was the road to nowhere. My Grandma used to tell me stories about the place where the cobblestone road ends and the roots of black trees hang over the hole. Everyone has a different story. Some say that at the bottom of the pit the tortured corpses of those who have fallen in lie. Others say the pit never ends. But me, I think that that is where Grandma went. I think that if you look deep down, you can see dark, beady eyes staring back at you. You can hear the groaning from deep in your ear. When I looked down, all I saw were my Grandma’s black pupils staring back at me from deep in the darkness.

FLASH FICTION 2018

My Best Friend Asks Why I Moved to the Land of the Free Elle D.

My older sister heard the hammering first. She, my parents, and my grandparents were all old enough to understand. I was about to place the last domino on my castle when the pounding reached me. Our precious house shook, the feeble and ancient adobe walls wobbling. My castle fell that day.

Panicked, my grandparents ushered us into the closet. The soldiers’ heavy footsteps echoed.

“Who’s here?” they demanded, Spanish losing its beautiful lilt to my ears.

“Just us, just us.”

PATPATPATPATPATPATPAT was the answer.

The next day, we received a letter. We have mistaken the address. Our deepest apologies- it said.

FLASH FICTION 2018

The Way You Did It Gabe A.

You ran the facility with authority. You were kind to us. You gave us good food and clean water. When we missed our parents you would comfort us. You never would be strict or mean towards us. But we respected you, you never needed to discipline. The way you ran it, our lives, we felt at home. But now you’re outside our dorm rooms, with a cold hard steel object. We’re about to join our parents.

FLASH FICTION 2018

A Strange Sound Corinne W.

It was the strangest thing I ever heard, the tearing of concrete, the cracking of the stone.

The ground collapsing, sides of a dark throat crashing into each other as the three-story factory took only fractions of a second to reach the bottom in an almost seismic thump. Yes, nature had taken part in the destruction, but it was merely displaying with wicked glee how close the whole area was to eradication, and how, three hundred feet from often occupied sidewalks, everything would eventually return back to the earth, where the soil would consume it once again.

Main featured or primary dish in a meal, usually the largest: hearty, substantial, and complex

FLASH FICTION 2018

What I Am Trapped By Gabe A.

Rather than a place I am trapped by a thing. The thing eating, no, feasting on me, my mind, my thoughts. Just last Saturday, a man came into my room. He lay on the floor, bleeding from the head. All I knew to do: stand there, club grasped tightly in my sweaty palm. Back in my bed, lay down, still. Later told that is my son.

My mind can be blank at times; at other times it fills up. This is life for me.

I walk to my bathroom. There is the toilet. Now standing there, vacant eyes, I don’t know what to do. A warm stream of liquid runs down my leg. My caretakers clean me off. Now I am back in my bed, once again. Back in bed.

Faces surround me, empty to my eyes. A blur of faces, unknown. A warm smile, pursed lips with a tear rolling down the side of one, a woman with a small child, a longing look from another woman, about my age. This woman, she is different from the others. I… I know her. Her squinted eyes, how one of her eyelids folds more than the other, the mole on her left cheek. No. It’s all in my head. I don’t know her, I don’t know any of them.

To me they are nothing. Visits from my “family” are inconsequential. Blank, vacant, empty, barren, hollow. But most of all. Dead.

I see my cup of water, seemingly bottomless. My state is endless, forevergoing torture. At times my cup is empty at times it is full, so am I. So l lie here. I lie here and gaze out the window. I lie here in my bed. I lie in here in hell. I burn and burn in hell. Day after day, it never ends. I want it to end.

Will it ever end?

FLASH FICTION 2018

Jump Xander Y.

It was a mostly calm day, but higher altitudes are always windier. We stood at the cliff’s edge, looking down at the ground below.

“You sure about this?” he said.

“Yeah, it’ll be fun. Trust me.”

“OK, I’ll unpack the gear.”

It was technically illegal to base jump in a national park, which made the hike up tenser than usual. The large pack we had contained two cameras, a wingsuit, snacks, and some parachutes.

I checked the anemometer.

“It’s pretty windy,” I said.

“I’ll be fine, I have a parachute.”

He put on the wingsuit. I set up the camera.

“If you crash and break it, you’re buying me a new one.”

“How thoughtful of you,” he said.

He strapped on the helmet and stood at the edge of the cliff. I snapped a photo.

“This could be the last ever photo of you,” I said.

“Nah, the police would take a photo of my body.”

I handed him the parachute. As he put it on, I checked the anemometer one last time. The needle was on the line between green and yellow. Supposedly safe.

“Last chance to back out, the wind’s getting stronger.”

“Heck no!” he said. “I’ve done stuff like this before. It’ll be great.”

He stood at the edge of the cliff, arms by his sides. He bent his knees and leapt off the cliff. I watched the anemometer. Suddenly, the needle snapped straight to red. His helmet must have made it hard to hear. By the time he saw the helicopter, it was too late.

FLASH FICTION 2018

The Library Owen H.

Last night, the moon was full, illuminating the town, yet no one saw a thing. Howls echoed off the buildings, and the burning lasted all night.

The smoke is suffocating, and the sky tinted gray with ashes. I know what burned, but I need to see it myself.

I turn the corner and gasp. The library had stood for centuries. Now, it’s barely recognizable as a building. The roof is partially collapsed, and I realize that all the books must be burned. The knowledge of so many lifetimes, burned. This nearly brings tears to my eyes.

I try to drown out these thoughts, and I notice a hole, punched through the wall.

I approach and peer inside from a distance. Off to the left, a flash of light catches my eye. I walk towards the hole. I pause at the entrance, noticing for the first time the authorities lazily patrolling the area. They seem unattentive, so, casting aside all caution, I continue into the crumbling library.

I see the same reflection, and within seconds, I locate its source: A knife protruding from a book. I remove the knife and begin to shake. My brain says not to, but my fingers can’t resist the blood, still shiny, but seemingly ancient. My fingers gently rub against the blood, but not a speck comes off.

I set the knife down and lift the book. A layer of ash covers it, but when I reveal the aged pages, they’re unscathed. I leaf through the pages, filled strange characters, and eerie, humanoid creatures that stare up at me with nothing but evil in their eyes. I shudder and look away. I see something odd in the corner. It somewhat resembles a person, but it’s clearly not. After a moment it hits me. I scream.

FLASH FICTION 2018

Two Shots Owen H.

She stood by the door, guarding the exit.

No, she said, you can’t do this.

There’s not much of a choice, he said, now is there?

Of course there is a choice! What are you talking about? She said.

You know better than anyone what happened, he said, you know why I have to do this.

You don’t have to do anything, she said, you can just stay here with me.

A reflection caught her eye as he adjusted his grip on the thing in his right palm.

Put it down, she said.

He didn’t move.

Now, she said.

He didn’t move.

After a moment’s hesitation, she darted forward, extending her hand, only for him to pull away and her fingers to brush harmlessly where he was just standing.

Please, don’t, she said, please.

It’s not your choice, he said, get out of the way.

No, she said, you know I can’t let you.

Suddenly, he pushed past her, starting down the stairs. She followed. He went for the door, but she stepped in front of him.

You can’t go, I won’t let you, she said.

I don’t need your permission—I’ll do what I want, he said.

He tried again to push past her, but this time she knew it was coming.

She grabbed on tight to his right arm. She clawed him with her nails, droplets of blood staining her fingers..

No. You. Won’t. She said, I won’t let you.

He raised his left hand up and she fell to the ground. He walked out the door, not even bothering to close it behind him, there was no point. He wasn’t going be back any time soon.

FLASH FICTION 2018

A Grievance Nora N.

Clouds gathered over the sky, fog swallowing up the buildings. A storm was coming. The aura of forbidden magic tinged the air.

She was sitting in a chair, panting, when he came in. Anger twisted his features into a snarl when he noticed a rune on her hand.

Hello dear, is everything alright? she said.

No! Of course not! I told you not to do it, and you went ahead and did it! he said.

I don’t know what you’re talking about, she said. She shifted, pulling her sleeve down to hide another rune drawn onto her forearm.

You used magic! If you get found out, do you know what will happen to you?

They’ll kill you! he said.

They won’t find me out.

How come? The scent of magic is all over the place! The police will be here any minute now! he said.

As if it was rehearsed, they could hear the them stomping up the flight of stairs. ...

Officers, officers help! Please help!

Ma’am, please calm down. Can you tell us what happened? an officer said.

I came in, back from work, and he was down on the floor, covered in those horrible symbols! she said. She was holding back tears. She pointed to the hastily drawn runes covering his arms.

I can’t believe he would do such a thing! she said.

Please relax. Your husband will be put into custody. Do not speak of this to anyone. Understand? the officer said.

Yes, yes, of course. Thank you, officers. I still can’t believe that he did this, she said, composing herself. The officers dragged her husband out, and left her in peace.

If only he hadn’t killed her pet iguana.

FLASH FICTION 2018

Always There Lachlan C.

The girl slouched in the cheap plastic chair between her parents. A tall wooden desk the height of her father stood just below her chin. The girl glanced her mother’s direction while they waited. Essays were hung on the walls, all of different lengths and all lacking color. Like the rest of this room: the plain grey walls, the waxed desk, and the dim lights—some almost flickering out of existence. The girl again stole her eyes away from a hole in the wall that was touching the carpetless floor. A sound from her father’s side caught her attention; she watched him tap the green icon with a white telephone in it.

Hi, how are you doing? The voice behind the narrow screen said.

Fine, and you? Her father said, just as confident.

I’m doing well. About work the past few months…

I know I’ve been coming late and not been doing my best work, but it’s been a rough few months. You know the new school and new kids thing again? But I promise I’ll make it up to you—just give me a few weeks and I’ll have it sorted out. Next time I’ll do my best.

The girl’s father’s voice didn’t sound the same. It sounded desperate.

Her father was never desperate.

The girl knew that she had brought him here. To this place again. To this point. She gripped her knees tightly, holding back tears. This was not how it was supposed to go. She was the one who got in trouble and he was there to get her out of it.

Michael, the customers are complaining. I’m sorry but there won’t be a next time. I’m going to have to let you go.

The girl’s father’s Adam’s apple rose, then fell. She had only known the half of her father whose head was always high. The half of her father that told her she was safe. But in these dim flickering lights she had seen enough to know what her carelessness had done to him.

She had thought she would be happy.

FLASH FICTION 2018

A Thorny Patch of Entertainment Elle D.

Left, right, left, right. I zigzagged between the bushes trying not to rustle the leaves at my shoulders, trying not to crunch the twigs beneath my worn boots, trying not to cut hands on the sharp thorns protruding around every corner. I had watched and learned the hard way that those thorns would not kill you, but the monster trailing the scent of your blood would. Above, the courtiers giggled at my ragged clothes, at my predicament. I heard the words pathetic, scrawny, little, and my vision tinged red. But not before I caught the flash of gold and silver. They were betting on my life. That was exceptionally insensitive and crude, even for such a polished and elite class.

I could hear the labored breathing of the animal behind me. Good, I thought, good. The next turn, I had memorized, would be a hairpin turn. I saw it come up ahead, and feigning exhaustion, slowed around the bend. As soon as I was on the other side, I suddenly sprinted and rounded another thorn-ridden corner, then another, then another. I was out of sight from the monster, for now. I stopped in front of a particularly nasty-looking thorn. It was massive, sharp, and needle-thin.

I gripped it, and yanked. It gave with a loud snap that made me cringe. I heard running pawsteps come up the way I had come, and sucked in a breath. Then, I pierced my skin with the thorn. I heard the crowd murmur, and knew they were debating the odds I was going to let the monster eat me. The pawsteps became more frantic, and I knew its hunger was driving it into a craze. I quickly dribbled some blood on the leaf bush behind me. Then, turning back to the thorn bush, I quickly tucked myself into the space the thorn had left.

I saw the monster’s paws pound around the corner, and quickly staunch the blood welling from my arm. My right hand was still loosely holding the thorn, as I was taught to do. The animal paused, its eyes rolling at the scent of the scarlet droplets littering the ground. As it bent down to sniff, I seized my chance. The small scar that seperated one scale from the one below was stretched taut. I jumped and threw my thorn like a spear—my form perfect. The animal yowled, then fell. It spasmed once, twice. It didn’t move again.

I held my head high as the lords and ladies of the court hummed their delightment or tutted their disappointment. I sneered at the latter.

The twelve guards assigned to escort me snapped the chains back on my wrists.

FLASH FICTION 2018

Day Two Corinne W.

This was the day after, the first day that was truly quiet. There were no more honks of cars, no birds flying over the brownish sky, where the dust mingled with the clouds that rained acid, now thick with the heaviest of particles. The rest was still on its way down, debris making the atmosphere dark and dirty, aftereffects of an explosion like this. The only traces of humanity were projected onto the larger blocks of rubble, staring out from the depths of their dark shadows. Besides the darkness that haunted the city, the only other sign of what once was the steel reinforced dome, the highest point that was left.

And inside, below growing inches of dirt, a primrose miracle had escaped the fires, dust floating atop it, hiding its singed petals with the fallout that was making its way down. Before long, humanity, as well as the fuschia that represented the blood that was never spilled, would be buried under the rubble and dust that drifted down, in a soft, slow rain that caught the light of the morning sun, the sun of the first day after the storm.

FLASH FICTION 2018

Last Fallout Fire Isabelle H.

“I’m not afraid, nothing can hurt me… I’m not afraid, nothing can hurt me… I’m not afraid, nothing can hurt me…” she told herself, her breathing slowly decelerating to a “normal” rate. As if anything could be normal in this harsh world. She felt the pounding of running footsteps before she heard them, their frantic breaths close enough she could feel them in the tips of her fingers. Next—the hammer of fists on the protective metal door.

“Open up! Open up! The fire’s coming! By the order of the potentate, we order you to – ” His orders were replaced by the screams of a dying man, a man dying slowly and excruciatingly. To her, his fading screeches sounded as she would imagine a plant would scream as it was burned. A fuchsia, perhaps. There aren’t any flowers that are as beautiful yet delicate as a fuschia—the perfect representation of life. She felt herself tearing up as she imagined the Earth after this abominable fallout, the first of many. She tried to imagine herself floating away from this nothingness, this unfeelingness. The unpleasant thing about imagination—it isn’t real.

Dessert

a course that concludes a meal: richly bittersweet

FLASH FICTION 2018

Venice Corinne W.

Water trickles throughout the city, seeping into the darkest of cracks between the narrow, shadowed canals and bending sunlight across its surface where it is revealed to the clouds. It caresses the sides of the deeply pigmented red bricks on either of its sides, audibly spraying against the places where solid matter obstructed it the most. In the nighttime, passages like this will only become ever more ominous, darkness leaving the place mysterious, letting the mind wander much too far from reality. In the wider passages, however, the sounds of the day are muffled, slowly warping into the sounds of the night, as more golden lights are lit to retain warm energy in spite of the icy breezes that slide off the black water. Venice, mystique engulfing the city a soft fog of gloom, only to be burned away by the early sun and to come back again with the passing moon and stars. Venice, laden with magic flowing through its inky waterways. Venice, crystalline water refracting the little starlight permitted through darkness’ feathers. As the owls fall asleep to the sun’s pulsing snores, only shadows are there to catch the bouquet of moonbeams that gather by the fine bubbles drifting through delicate, shimmering sculptures of murano glass.

FLASH FICTION 2018

They’re Coming Owen H.

It was the road to nowhere. My ancestors had travelled along it for hundreds of miles, yet it never led them anywhere. We believed that it had no purpose, for no one had ever travelled it. It had been here as long as us, and we believed that it had no creator, for my people had been here for thousands and thousands of years, since the beginning. We believed this until now.

Just hours ago, it had appeared. A horse. But this was no ordinary horse. It had two skins, one was an ordinary brown, but the second was silver. It shined like only the stars of the night, but it paid no heed to the time. It was bigger than anything we had ever seen before. Stronger. Faster. We had spotted it in the distance, on the flat lands to the east. It was unaccompanied at the time.

Now, a rumbling echoes through our homes, where there is nothing to echo off of. I’m scared.

They’re coming.

FLASH FICTION 2018

Bedtime Story Nora N.

It was a dark and stormy night. The rain lashed against the windows, whips against the glass. Shadows crept around every corner.

“If you strain your ears, you can hear the monster that lives in these walls, ” Dave said, holding the flashlight under his face. “It moans and growls. At night, when you’re asleep, it creeps into your room. It will arch over you then bam! It strikes!”

Frank, Dave’s younger brother, shuddered. “Time for bed, Frank,” said Dave, switching off the flashlight. Frank yelped. Dave laughed.

Frank went to bed, making sure to keep his nightlight on.

The hard pitter-patter of the rain lulled him into uneasy sleep. A draft creakily pushed his door open. A figure, fourlegged and furry entered, padding silently along the creaky boards of the room. It jumped onto Frank’s bed, and arched over him. Frank opened his eyes, sleep leaving him. He glanced down and saw it, arching over him. He screamed. It finished stretching, and curled over Frank’s stomach, long tail twitching. Oh, he thought it was only a cat. Nothing to be afraid of. As Frank fell back asleep, the cat’s warmth welcome, a moan could be heard, echoing through the halls.

FLASH FICTION 2018

Monster in the Closet Xander Y.

I closed the closet door; there could be monsters in there. I woke to an unfamiliar voice: “What makes you think I can’t open doors?”

FLASH FICTION 2018

Woman Found Dead, No Known Witnesses Gabe A.

The husband says, “I cannot bear the death of my wife.”

“She died with our wedding ring pressed to her heart, whispering I love you.”

FLASH FICTION 2018

Squidopus Isabelle H.

It was the strangest thing I ever heard.

A sort of low bellow— a mating call.

Fortunately, I had read up on colossal squidopi for months before the trip, extensively researching everything I could find about the magical beasts. As the squidopus began to ascend through the icy waters of the Atlantic, I could feel the small ripples originating from where the tiny beast had emerged, its one-inch wide head pointed like an elf’s hat.

FLASH FICTION 2018

An Abandoned City Elle D.

It was a city of sorrow, grief, and ceaseless rain and thunder. Of overflowing orphanages with children just barely making it out alive each month. Of hastily constructed street roofs, nevertheless leaking and spilling poison. It was a city of the weak, the strong having long left us to starve. Dead livestock littered the once lush fields, their blood running thick and black.

The grass had long since browned, then charcoal, and finally crumbled into ash.

FLASH FICTION 2018

Warships Nora N.

It passes through the clouds, seething steam, and crashes into the mountainside, seemingly obliterated. But from the wreckage, something emerges, unscathed.

FLASH FICTION 2018

Untrampled Corinne W.

A cockroach ambled over wild grass.