The Confabulator Cafe

Tag: flash fiction

  • Rules (Flash Fiction)

    “Well, that’s it,” Nigel said. “Time to shut it down.” He clicked at his keyboard and the image on the monitor froze, the man towing the bright red wagon caught mid-step as he headed towards the open doorway. “Want me to prep another run?”

    “Actually, no,” Raymond answered. “I want to see where this run is going.”

    Nigel pointed at the screen. “This? This is our latest model opting for the shotgun before heading outside. We both know exactly where it’s going.”

    “There are no wrong answers,” Raymond said.

    (more…)

  • Human Interest (Flash Fiction)

    He sets the toys carefully aside on the floor, revealing the shotgun hidden beneath them. His fingerprints paint red smudges as he brushes the doll’s synthetic curls and remembers the little girl who called her baby.

    His shirt sticks to his wound. He’s tired from the walk but numb to the pain. It’s probably too late for him — definitely too late for her. It’s not too late to make a scene, to ensure their senseless deaths aren’t hidden halfway through the local news.

    The wagon wheels creaking behind him, he limps into the assembly.

    Let them see what they missed.

  • Culvert (Flash Fiction)

    Colin was surprised at how heavy the shotgun was. No one was going to understand until it was all over, but he couldn’t just do nothing. He dragged his sister’s wagon into the house and left mud tracks on the dining room’s white carpet. He’d get it for that, but he had to do something.

    Mom would have to understand.

    *****

    “Where are you going?” His mother stopped cleaning the potatoes in the sink and wiped her forehead with the back of her purple gloves.

    (more…)

  • Witness (Flash Fiction)

    Galen listened to the patrons murmuring their approval as they walked through the gallery. He heard the same conversations, the same trite observations. “Bold choice of color.” “Strong brush strokes.” “Interesting choice of subject.” He wanted to leave and repress the night’s memory with a bottle of whiskey.

    Becky by Dave DeHetre
    “Becky” by Dave DeHetre. Used with permission of the artist.

    A light touch on his elbow alerted him to Amanda’s presence. He breathed in the smell of her perfume, Vanilla Lace.

    “You’re not going anywhere,” whispered Amanda into his ear.

    “What makes you think I was leaving?”

    “You have that look. Your left hand gets twitchy when you’re thinking of using your cane.”

    (more…)

  • Trapped in a Doll’s Body (Flash Fiction)

    I wanted to cry out for him not to leave, but my lips were just stitches on fabric.  He was the best brother a girl could ask for, but he was going to get himself killed.

    When I was seven, I fell into a magical coma. I accidentally triggered the warding spell in my uncle’s study and nobody knew how to contact him to get him to reverse the spell. For as long as I could remember, it was just me and my brother living in our uncle’s house. Our parents left when I was a baby, leaving behind a stuffed tabby cat and two children. Suddenly becoming legally responsible for our well-being didn’t change our uncle’s ways.

    He was never around, always off at some overseas conference or another. He really couldn’t be bothered to raise us—didn’t have the time or desire—so he left us to the tender care of the cook after I started kindergarten. Mrs. Toffee was a sweet and caring lady, but she left for the day after dinner was over and cleaned up, and we were left to our own devices. We were expected to finish our homework and go straight to bed, but that rarely ever happened as planned. (more…)

  • Munitions Run (Flash Fiction)

    “Can I come this time?”Charlotte asked, loudly popping her gum.

    Gale glared at his little sister. “No way. You’re still too young.” He slid the red wagon from its hiding place at the back of the playhouse, under the clunky wooden desk their mother had salvaged from some auction or other.

    “I’m not too young. Sassy goes with her brother all the time. Besides, you’re only three years older than me.”

    “Practically four years,” he said as he pried loose one of the floorboards. Inside, nestled in a cocoon of hay, lay the stash of coal black shotguns and boxes of shotgun shells. He gently picked each one up, checked to make sure they weren’t loaded, set them inside the wagon, and then added several boxes of bullets. “And Sassy knows how to use one of these. You’re still too sporadic.”

    She popped another bubble and crossed her arms over her chest. “Am not. I can hit three out of five.”

    (more…)

  • Neighborhood Watch (Flash Fiction)

    I’ve always liked watching my neighbors.

    Not in a pervy kind of way. I mean, I know how that sounds. You’re immediately like, “Oh, he’s the guy who defiles himself behind the half-drawn curtain while the single mom next door sunbathes in her backyard.”

    I’m not some kind of deviant. I just like to know what’s going on along my block. It’s always been a nice, quiet kind of place. It didn’t really start to go to hell until the clown moved in across the street.

    Now I’m not prejudice against clowns as a whole, other than the fact that they’re evil incarnate and largely devoid of souls. In the pantheon of creepy-ass shit, clowns rank right up there with ice cream truck drivers, because you know something shady is always going on in the back of those things.

    (more…)

  • A Burial (Flash Fiction)

    Tanner placed the shotgun in his little red wagon. Its weight surprised him. He couldn’t imagine carrying it through miles of snow-covered fields like Daddy. But Daddy was really strong. Tanner trusted Otis, his teddy bear, with making sure the gun stayed safe. He sat Otis near the stock. Otis watched the shotgun though one black button eye. Tanner felt bad about not having Mommy fix his other eye, but he was afraid.

    Daddy had made Mommy angry. Daddy worked at the dog food plant for a long time. He got fired when they caught him taking tools home to fix Tanner’s swing set. He fixed it, but Tanner didn’t feel like swinging anymore.

    “I can’t believe how stupid—“ (more…)

  • Inspired Stories (Week Ending September 1)

    This month, the Cafe is challenging our writers to create a flash fiction short story inspired by an image. This is a bit different than the “Worth 1,000 Words” challenge we had back in March. Instead of everyone having a different image to work with, this month each writer will get his or her inspiration from the same painting.

    Becky by Dave DeHetre
    “Becky” by Dave DeHetre. Used with permission of the artist.

    This painting, titled “Becky,” is the work of Lawrence-based artist Dave DeHetre. It should be noted that because of the powerful image presented here — and in light of recent events in Aurora, Colorado — we gave our writers the option to opt-out of using the painting for this month’s stories.

    In the past Dave DeHetre has been an integral part of the local writers group. But lately, he has poured his creative passion into painting and photography. You can see more examples of his work on his Flickr photostream.

    We are very happy to have Dave’s painting as a starting point for this month’s fiction.

    Until Next Week,

    The Cafe Management

  • A Ghost Story for Pat (Flash Fiction)

    It was one of the first festivals of the season and a time to renew acquaintances and to greet old friends. Most of us hadn’t seen one another since that dreary cold day last winter. The sweet smell of woodsmoke summoned us to perch on camp chairs and coolers and begin to spin yarns from memories and moonshine.

    “I first met Davy, we were in high school together. He was one crazy sonovabitch then, too.” DJ’s booming voice carried easily over the crackle of burning brands. “We used to drag race cars down by the lake every chance we got. Of course, the cops know all about us; they knew our cars, and they’d take any excuse to pull us over whether we deserved it or not. One night the deputy sheriff sees Davy’s car parked along the side of the road. He was sitting there with his girlfriend at the time, just talking, and when the deputy shone his flashlight at them through the window, Davy says to him, ‘Now just hold on there! I haven’t even got her pants off yet!’ He never did have too much respect for cops.”

    “He only had the one girl in there with him?”

    “He mostly only ever had one at a time. He tried dating two at once a time or two, but he always said that was too much work.”

    (more…)