Amber Alert (flash fiction)

By Moristotle

His cell phone made a startling, eerie sound as he was chewing his first mouthful of lunch. He struggled to extract the phone from a thigh pocket.
    “Damn those amber alerts!” he said to his wife, whose phone was now sounding as well.
    “Humph,” he said, “it’s a severe thunderstorm warning. Hey, we might get some rain!”
    Still thinking about amber alerts and how often they sounded, he asked his wife whether she thought they actually helped.
    “I think they do. They help locate the vehicle that somebody’s child has been abducted in.”
    His phone rang. “Hold that thought,” he said, “it’s our daughter.”
    “Dad, Sally’s been abducted. A neighbor got their license plate, and we’ve requested an amber alert.”

Copyright © 2023 by Moristotle

A Look into Flash Fiction

[Click on image for a
flash fiction challenge]

By Moristotle

I found challenging Michael H. Brownstein’s examples of flash fiction (and micro fiction) stories. I have so far managed to write a few that I thought were okay. One of them, “Jesus on a High,” even adhered to the exact upper limit of the prescribed word count of 100, including the 9 words of its opening quote from Karl Marx. I remember the pleasure of whittling the words to exactly those 100, which took me many drafts. They were not an easily found 100 words, just like an article I recommend says:

Jesus on a High (flash fiction)

Painting by Jose Luis Castrillo

By Moristotle

“Religion is the opium of the people.” —Karl Marx

Pastor Greg wanted a church.
    A stranger came calling. “The lord wants you. He will fund construction and provide staff.”
    Pastor Greg gave praise. The church was built, and he went to work.
    A bigger church was constructed, the first one sold quickly, and Pastor Greg stepped up, ecstatic to follow his calling.
    He thought the ushers were joking about “laundry bags.”
    The cartel boss marveled that Pastor Greg was as high as the users of his cocaine, heroin, and meth. He hoped they didn’t hear about the pastor’s religion thing.

Copyright © 2023 by Moristotle

Goines On: Got your number(flash fiction)

Click image for more vignettes

“Hello, Goines?”
    “This is Goines. Who are you?”
    Goines hadn’t recognized the voice, and the telephone number wasn’t in his contacts.
    “It’s Barry. I had an accident—”
    “‘Barry’? But Barry who?”
    Barry mumbled something.
    “I’m sorry, please repeat that, clearly.”
    “I can’t talk. Gauze in my nose...for the bleeding. I need—”
    “That was clear, please say your name like that.”

What Next? (flash fiction)

Dateline
Silicion Valley

By Moristotle

911 calls are out of control, emergency services taxed beyond expectations, chaos has exploded throughout America and too many incidents are now ignored by police and fire communication centers.
    You may not know, but I’m now on Apple’s team developing algorithms in its watches to detect wrist movements caused by crashes and falls. I even succeeded in being assigned to help test the software and write up the findings, but I think they’re on to me.
    I’m going to need extraction soon. Then another assignment. Google maybe, Comrade Yang?

Copyright © 2023 by Moristotle Moristotle is working on the craft introduced by Michael H. Brownstein.

All Over the Place: The Philosophy of What(and three others)

Micro Flash Fiction

By Michael H. Brownstein

Below are four examples of micro flash fiction. Very limited word counts. Simple rules: some have to be ten words or less while others—per guidelines—give you more leeway: up to fifty words.

The Philosophy of What

Why is why, Sarah asked, when where is who?

All Over the Place: How Some of the Time the Money Is Easy (flash fiction)

By Michael H. Brownstein

When I moved into Chicago’s most dangerous neighborhood, I was not scared. A few miles from work, I walked every day. 2 AM, a knock on my window. Now I’m scared. Should I? Of course. I open the shade.
    “Last stop,” a shadow says. “Told you a white man lives here. Pay up.”
    Found him the next evening on a nearby stoop.
    “How much you make?” I asked.
    “Fifty-five bills. Why?”
    “Starting tonight make me the first stop on the tour. I’ll come out and greet your tourists. Just want ten bucks for my time.”
    The deal was done.

Copyright © 2023 by Michael H. Brownstein Michael H. Brownstein’s volumes of poetry, A Slipknot Into Somewhere Else and How Do We Create Love?, were published by Cholla Needles Press in 2018 & 2019, respectively.

All Over the Place: Ray Visits His Library (flash fiction)

By Michael H. Brownstein

I took Ray to his library on a bright and breezy day. He looked this way and that way, alert to the moment. He stopped a lot to sniff, as if he had to smell the roses. We walked over a mile. It took almost forty minutes.
    “How was the library?” my wife asked on our return.
    “Good,” I answered.
    “Yeah,” she replied. “He needed to get out and smell the roses.”
    Ray wagged his huge tail, shook his huge head, and barked with happiness.

Copyright © 2023 by Michael H. Brownstein Michael H. Brownstein’s volumes of poetry, A Slipknot Into Somewhere Else and How Do We Create Love?, were published by Cholla Needles Press in 2018 & 2019, respectively.

All Over the Place: Going for Three out of Three (flash fiction)

By Michael H. Brownstein

Another heat stroke cataract construction day. We worked the skin burning field. Drank a lot of water. Sweated too much. When the clouds covered the sun, I was gladdened. The temperature dropped, a slight breeze erupted, and thick sheets of lightning stuttered across the sky.
    “Storm coming,” I said.
    “Nope, just heat lightning.”
    I didn’t believe them. When they told me about the pickle tree, the laugh was on them. The leaves did taste like pickles. And I did catch the skype—whatever the hell it is—but, yes, something did jump into my sack. I let it go, but I had it—probably.
    A storm was coming. I was hopeful.

Copyright © 2023 by Michael H. Brownstein Michael H. Brownstein’s volumes of poetry, A Slipknot Into Somewhere Else and How Do We Create Love?, were published by Cholla Needles Press in 2018 & 2019, respectively.

The Christmas Miracle: From the Chronicles of Meth Mountain

A Piece of Flash Fiction

By Michael H. Brownstein

When Christmas day dawned, there were no Christmas trees, no gifts, no cookies, no glasses of milk—only small plastic bags of meth.
   It’s Christmas, she told her companion. Get up. Let’s see what Santa sent us.

Story Challenge #5

Write a poem for its story

By Moristotle

Thanks to Michael H. Brownstein for today’s challenging beginning, something quite different....
    It points to a story in poem form. As Michael suggested in his submission: “Finish this as a poem poem, a prose poem, or even as a work of flash fiction.” I understand “flash fiction” to be a synonym for “short short story” (only a few hundred words).

Fiction: Justice Is Missing (flash fiction)

By Bob Boldt

Sooner or later somebody writing for the Alt Left was certain to report it, certainly not the most significant person, no one of consequence, in fact. In fact, later the authorities even questioned the reporter’s relationship to the missing person. All the usual sources took immediate offense at such an outrageous disappearance. A million op-eds immediately sprouted, while squadrons of right-winged hawks took roost on their bottom line. All our newsprint suddenly became stained with yellow ink. Some claimed that her disappearance was an invention of fake news. Others disagreed, while still others agreed, but only to disagree. Still others said they had seen her as late as last week. A sheriff in Tennessee claimed to have found her sword and scales in the back seat of a 1964 faded metallic green Buick Skylark convertible with a white top, in a junk yard hidden behind a Memphis motel. As of deadline, her blindfold is still being sought.