Category Archives: Flash Fiction

Flash Fiction Thursday: “Snitch Shoes”

I pulled my golden Converse out of the urinal and checked the damage. Aside from the worn rubber on the sole and the missing aglet on the right shoelace, it seemed okay, if wet…and smelly. I shrugged but jammed it on to my bare foot anyway and squelched over to the sink, kicking a stupid urinal cake out of the way. I needed to dry my pants.

You may be wondering how my golden Converse ended up in a urinal — and perhaps even why my pants were wet. The answer is quite simply this: Harry Potter.

Now, some have called me naïve before…and that may be true—(I don’t trust goblins), but I am certain of one thing: Dobby is an a-hole.

It was Christmastime at the mall, and I had just finished spray-painting my Converse gold. Snitch gold was supposed to make me wicked fast and damn-near-impossible-to-see. I ran through the mall, zigzagging between the slow bystanders, easily. I kept my eyes closed because it made me feel like I was flying. I opened them only when people shouted. Haters.

I walked into the store ‘Day by Day Calendar’ and immediately bumped into an old lady. I’m sure she couldn’t see me because I had been moving so fast I was probably invisible. She glanced down at my shoes before muttering ‘tawdry’ and walking away.

“My name’s Ian.” I said. Tawdry is a girl’s name.

I very suddenly felt the need to relieve myself. I dashed from the store in search of the nearest loo, unbuttoning my trousers as I went.

A short man dressed as an elf was taking care of business as I flew into him after slamming through the bathroom door.

‘Get your wand out of my face. Bro!’ the elf man said, holding his hands up like a shield.

I realized that he was none other than the house elf, Dobby!

‘I apologize, Dobby, I am simply trying to be invisible.’ I said.

‘Dobby? Dude, seriously, go flush yourself. Happy Holidays.’

A prophecy? Maybe I could ‘flush myself’ into the wizarding world.

I did what I had gone there to do, and then clambered into the urinal and flushed, waiting with my arms crossed over my bare chest. When nothing happened I flushed again…and again. I thought maybe I had to say the destination out loud, like with Floo powder, so I cleared my throat and bellowed ‘MINISTRY OF MAGIC!’ in my clearest voice. My pants slid down to my ankles.

“Kid you’re nuts.” Dobby said, shuffling out the door.

My shout echoed off the walls and I waited until the cold sank into to my bones and goose bumps rose sharply in perfect patterns across my skin. It was in that moment that I realized how impossible it would be to reach the Ministry of Magic through a urinal.  I kicked the urinal cake in frustration and it skid across the floor.

I smelled something gross and observed that I probably should have flushed the urinal before stepping into it and sloshing around. I wondered why Dobby wanted me to face this reality; and then it hit me, he wanted my shoes.

Flash Fiction Thursday: “Monkey”

I was ordered to kill my best friend. But how could I?

Monkey and I were a team. We played games and made promises together. Both of us wanted to go to Africa and explore the jungles; Monkey wanted to meet real monkeys and study them, I just wanted to travel.

I remembered the first time we met; I was helping mom get the groceries out the car when I saw him sitting in the backseat next to a sack of potatoes. He said his name was Ruty, Rutta, or something like that I can’t remember. I just knew I could never pronounce it so I decided to say Monkey instead. He didn’t mind, in fact I think he liked it.

From that moment on, Monkey and I became inseparable. Just thirty minutes before, Monkey and I fell asleep on the couch watching The Little Mermaid. Now, here I was sitting at the kitchen table looking into the face of my best friend, as I tried desperately to maintain my balance in my seat.

“Honey, just eat the rutabaga.”

I stared down at my plate, where my best friend laid in pieces on my plate, smothered in butter and garlic. I stayed that way until my vision blurred and I wasn’t able to make out the pieces on my plate. Slowly I reached for my fork and stabbed randomly at my plate before slowly bring him to my lips and devouring him.

With tears burning in my eyes I consumed my best friend. He was delicious, but forbidden fruit always tasted good. Or vegetable.

My father looked over at my mom with confusion clouding his brown eyes. “Did I miss something?”

My mom said nothing as she got up from the table, grabbed the dish from the table and threw it in the trash.