Actor: A Flash Fiction by S.S. Mandani
This flash fiction was originally published in TheEEEL.
The snake made its appearance soon after the usual pool maintenance checkup. An orange band choked its neck—printed it dangerous. A line of black ink, puddled with scales, its stomach arched above the water, limp. Seemingly dead. An amphibious thespian, the kind that eats the labeled yogurt in the fridge at work, only to act stumped when questioned. Myths speak of this serpent. The bad omen type. The family, sheltering itself, resurfaced later that night. LED water light on, they found the silhouette squirming, expecting some kind of standing O. A Technicolor spectrum of blue ripples, they let it perform through the night, witnessing its climax. No clapping, no. Their teal-mirror eyes were applause enough.
Author's Note: "Actor" was my first publication almost a decade ago at TheEEEL from tNY Press (formerly theNewerYork). This was of course a big deal for me. While it was a small piece, having my writing accepted for publication and paired with custom art was incredibly validating. I had finally felt one notch closer to feeling like I was a writer.
Fossils: A Flash Fiction by Joe Kapitan
This flash fiction was originally published online in Fractured West 3.
Fossil me, she says, on a Sunday afternoon when snow strikes and shackles everything tight under its belly.
She larvaes in front of the fireplace, cocooned in quilt.
Explain, I answer, watching the flakefall from my chair, noting that my car has become a tumor beneath thick porcelain skin.
Rediscover me, she says. Search for me, but do your homework first: organize an expedition, hire a local guide, endure hardships, read the strata, hypothesize, then dig. Dig, like nothing else matters.
I’ve loved you for fifteen years, I say. Without Sherpas. Isn’t that expedition?
Long expeditions are deadly, she says, they breed institutions. Discoveries disappear into textbooks.
You want some time away? I ask.
I want to be unearthed again, she says, marveled at, brushed delicately, cradled, magnified, examined, taxonomied, announced at symposiums.
It falls harder, that downy sediment.
Cephalopod or gastropod? I ask her, in that way of mine.
Neither, she says, yawning. Something that flew once, before the sap, and before the amber. A dragonfly, maybe. A careless one.
Ah, no bigger than a grapefruit then, I figure. So how would I find you?
She turns to me. You found me once, she says.
Something in the fire snaps.
We played this game, once:
Me: What’s sadder than a shovel buried?
You: A fossil reburied.
Outside, the lump that had marked my car is no longer visible.
We stop talking, to conserve oxygen.
Author’s Note: This flash fiction piece was first published in Fractured West 3, way back in 2011. Editor Kirsty Logan gushed about it, and it was the encouragement I really needed at that moment.