Tag Archives: haley whitehall

Still-Life with Snowflake (FF)

This is in response to Haley Whitehall’s September Flash Fiction Challenge: Superpowers.

I walked around her again, slowly, admiring. The way the pale, mid-winter light caught her cheekbones. Or the tiny snowflake that was less than a second from landing on her hair where it would melt and join hundreds of it’s kin in her golden locks. Or the way her pose, launching forward with her fist pulled back to strike, accentuated the lines of lean muscles in her calves, her tight abdomen. That was quite visible in the skin-tight spandex supersuit she wore. Red, with a golden falcon on the chest.

With a suit like that, you would think that her name would be Phoenix, or maybe Firebird. But no, it was Yellow Falcon. Some heroes really need better PR teams. In truth, a better PR team was the least of the things she needed right now. Needed? Needs? Would need? The language is somewhat lacking in this regard.

Most people only knew her as Yellow Falcon. I knew her as Josie Wheatherly. She lived up the street from me when we were teenagers. We went to the same high school together, although I don’t think she would recognized me if we met on the street. After all, it was a few weeks after graduation that I first discovered I had the Power.

Obviously, she had powers also. Thus the costume, the heroic pose. But her power was Light. Not the same as mine. She used hers to fight crime. I used mine to…

Well, at first I used it to overcome my laziness, or at least to make others think I had. Slept in late? No problem. I’d just stop the world while I had breakfast and calmly strolled to work. No one ever noticed.

Then later, I began to realize that I could use it to study whatever I wanted. I got PhDs in three sciences in the space of as many years. After a while I began to notice that time quite literally didn’t stop for me during these interludes. I was getting older. Not too noticeable yet, but it was happening.

I would see her sometimes on TV, Josie. She was always out there, fighting crime, keeping the world safe. In the space of two years, she accounted for the capture and arrest of over twenty-five members of the Golina family. I learned to play the piano between ticks of the second hand in order to impress some girl I had just met.

This situation now is because of that Golina thing. They must have hired someone to kill Josie. The robbery at the jewelry store was a diversion, obviously.

I was walking home, passing the frozen people and cars around me when I saw it. The fight. There she was, launching herself at a masked man holding a bag full of diamond bracelets. And there it was, less than a millimeter from the back of her head: the bullet.

I have long since taken care of the sniper, but there is nothing I can do about the bullet. It’s too close, too large, travelling too fast. Trust me, I have read up on ballistics in the weeks since. All I can do is keep her here, frozen in this moment, until I finally die.

——————

I wrote a longer version of this story, because I just felt that 500 words didnt’ do it justice. You can find that longer version here.

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Filed under Flash, Seed, Words words words - Writing and books

Dreamchasers, Season 4 Episode 11

This is a reply to Haley Whitehall‘s August Flash Fiction Challenge about Dreams.

Thank you. Thank you. You’re all awesome. Folks, we all know that “In his house at R’lyeh dead Cthulhu waits dreaming.” This is not news to anyone, of course. But what does he dream about? No one has ever really answered that question… until now!

Today on Dreamchasers, we are going to find out exactly what it is that dead Cthulhu dreams about in that house of his. And by the way, stay tuned after our show when Houses of the Famous tackles that very same R’lyeh property! But now, let’s turn to our Dreamchasers Experts, and see: What Does Cthulhu Dream?

Are we done? Yeah? Ok great. Collin, take this microphone. I’ll be in my dressing room until the last bit. Oh, Susie, make sure craft services sends me a bottle of Sam Adams this time ok? Not that Budweiser crap they tried to foist off on me last week.

God. 77 episodes of this crap. It pays the bills, sure, but I dunno. Being the host for a Discovery Channel show? I had dreams, you know. I was going to be on Broadway by now. I should be on Broadway by now. I’m good, dammit. Better than this show deserves anyways. Did you see the episode in season 2 when I had to pretend to be excited about Ben Stein’s dreams? Ben freakin’ Stein, for god’s sake. “Bueller… Bueller…” And the worst part is, he DREAMS in that voice too! But I sold it. Yes I did. Should have won an Emmy for that: Best dramatic performance of utter bullshit. No, I should have been on Broadway.

I would have been great.

When I was six, I saw a performance… oh, thanks Susie. Yeah, this is perfect. Thanks. No, that’s ok, I have my own bottle opener. Anyways. When I was six I saw a performance of Phantom at the Ahmanson. Crawford’s last show. The first time. You know, before he came back out of retirement and did another bazillion shows. The emotion in his voice, even when he was singing was so intense, I just knew I had to do that. To be up there, under the lights. Smell of the greasepaint, roar of the crowd and all that, right? The very next school day, I went to my teacher and said I wanted to be an actor.

I dunno how it all went wrong. I went to an arts school, majored in drama. I got great reviews. My senior year, we did Streetcar. I played Stanley. We sold out and even added a last-minute Midnight show closing day, and THAT sold out too. And now look at me. Ten years later and I’m hosting a freaking Discovery Channel show about dreams. What about mine, huh? Let’s do a show about MY dreams. I’ll bet that’ll sell a lot of whatever it is we’re advertizing this week.

What? Time? Oh, ok. Thanks Susie. I’ll be right there. I just need a second.

I have something in my eye.

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Filed under Flash, Words words words - Writing and books