The Confabulator Cafe

Tag: flash fiction

  • Parade Violation

    Shaun wasn’t normally a guy who carried around a lot of hate in his heart, but after the day he was having, he found he had plenty of room for a little want-to-kick-his-ass.

    When he reached the bottom of the stairs, Shaun saw his brother’s suitcase by the door. He took it as a good sign. Maybe Neil understood how serious this was.

    Shaun found the little prick sitting at the kitchen table. His kid brother, a twenty-four year old fuck up whose life ambition was to own a car wash, was fidgeting in his seat, but Shaun suspected it was an act. Neil had a general idea of what contrition should look like, but he lacked depth and sincerity, so he never quite pulled off seeming sorry about anything.

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  • Based on Actual Events (Week of February 24)

    Adversity is the universe's way of saying your life was too boring to be a good book.Life is filled with stories. Some lives are interesting because of their historical context, like Laura Ingalls Wilder’s Little House series. Others lives are only interesting for a brief period of time because of some tragic event that happened — such as Alive, the story of the 1972 Andes flight disaster that led to the survivors resorting to cannibalism.

    The point here — and I do have one — is that our stories are often rooted in the real world. We may build fantastical worlds with flying airships and robot servants, monsters and mad scientists, but even these stories to some extent are built on our lives. Maybe the heroine in the story is patterned after an old girlfriend. Or perhaps the undead creatures coming for the hero are the sticky-fingered, snot-nosed children you babysat last year.

    This week, the contributors at the Cafe have been asked to submit a flash fiction story based on real-life event. We’ve left it to them to decide how much of their real lives are being reflected in these pages. Maybe only the names have been changed to protect the innocent. Or maybe the story has been stretched and mangled beyond recognition (the way Hollywood tends to treat screenplays that are “based on actual events”).

    We hope you enjoy this month’s confabulations. Be sure to give some feedback on your favorite stories.

    Until Next Week,

    The Cafe Management

  • The Waves Greet Us Home (Flash Fiction)

    Dr. Koldun’s office is like a living room, decorated with wide windows and soft lights. The other patients in the waiting room are a mixture of gorgeous and unfortunate. Every one of them stares down at a phone or book, utterly oblivious to her curious glances. What brings them to this place?

    “Muirgen Brady?”

    Gen winces at the mangled pronunciation — another bit of family history she tries to hide. Unfortunate family names, unfortunate family looks. None of the other patients even blink. She stands and crosses the room to shake Dr. Koldun’s hand. “Gen, please.”

    The doctor’s appraising glance is a bit too intense, her hand too tight — then she nods and releases Gen’s hand. “Of course. Follow me, please.”

    (more…)

  • Broken Contract

    http://www.cnn.com/2009/TECH/space/11/05/space.elevator/index.htmlZhoq threw the switch which closed with a bang. The last of the couplings hummed to life and magnetically locked into place. “All right,” he said, shielding his eyes, “let ‘em know we’re good, Beanie.”

    The mooring cable connected to the coupling extended as far as he could see and was as big around as him. Zhoq stepped just beyond the safe distance ring and turned. “Beanie? You hear me?”

    “Roger, Zhoq.” The voice in his ear was amiable. “They’re advised.”

    He shook his head. Beanie was likable, a character by any definition, but he damned well better be doing his job. “Good. Let me know when they’re close.”

    (more…)

  • The Maiden’s Heart

    Once upon a time, there was a maiden. She was young and fair, and according to the custom in the kingdom, as she grew her parents gave her a heart. This heart was made of blown glass in a rich, deep ruby color, bound with silver wire and hung from a silver chain. She filled its hollow with her hopes and dreams.

    In the same town there lived a young man. He was witty and charming, clever and handsome, and knew how to make people laugh, and he flirted with many of the young women of the town. The maiden caught his eye with her sweet ways and generous nature, her beauty and her lovely heart. Together they would walk along a river path, or dance in the town square, or sit under a tree and talk for hours. She felt fortunate to have such a handsome suitor.

    When she offered him her heart, she told him, “This is the most precious thing I have, and you must promise to take very good care of it.”

    He promised most solemnly, and she hung her heart around his neck for everyone to see. He gave her his own heart, and she thought her happiness was complete. But his heart was a false one, made of cardboard and cheap sequins, and filled with cigarette ash and high fructose corn syrup.

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  • Charming

    Woodcut Our true selves are often not known to us or anyone close to us. Sometimes it takes a stranger to show us what is in our heart, and where our destiny will take us.

    The King and Queen had no other children, so when I became of age it was decided that I must join the royal court.

    “Charles, come with me,” said the King one morning as I arrived in the hall for breakfast. He arose from his throne and ushered me to the balcony behind the thick velvet curtains. The morning was bright and warm, a beautiful spring day lay ahead. Despite the fair weather, a storm hung over my father’s countenance.

    “What is it, Father? Is something wrong?”

    “You are becoming a man, and it’s time for you to increase your studies … if you are to be king someday.”

    He told me this as if it was a great honor, but I saw it as a punishment. I had no interest in becoming a king. I knew well it would mean an end to my freedom, as the duties of my office as prince would consume every last hour of my day.

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  • Dawn’s Curse (Flash Fiction)

    Sibylline Academy was a school for the cursed. Or at least, that’s what every student who attended the private high school thought. Most of the time, they were complaining about the strict rules and archaic practices. Some of us, however, actually were cursed. Okay, well, maybe just me. Or at least, that’s what I’d always been told growing up. That I was cursed.

    My mom had two older sisters. I know, I know, what do my mom’s older sisters have to do with my supposed curse? Well, I’m getting to that.

    My mom had two older sisters. Her oldest sister was smart, kind, and did absolutely everything perfectly on the first try. My mom was always considered to be funny, charming, and absolutely gorgeous. Then there was my Aunt Mallory, who had the unfortunate luck to be the middle sister. Her teachers always compared her to Aunt Camille, who effortlessly achieved straight A’s and the boys always favored my mom over her. Apparently Aunt Mal had a huge crush on my dad, but he fell in love with my mom and not her.

    So she cursed me when I was born. Yeah. My aunt’s a witch. Supposedly. (more…)

  • The Curse of the Elves

    Jenna frowned as her husband, Frank, shook his head. No, they would not have enough money to pay the rent. Again. It was their last warning. Eviction would follow, so they’d lose not only the butcher shop, but their apartment above, as well.

    What was a poor couple in the midst of a recession supposed to do?

    What she did not expect for him to do was to give away a still good – well, maybe not good, maybe more like questionable but still sellable – hunk of cured meat to one of the homeless guys begging out behind the shop.

    “Goddamn it, Frank. We could have at least used that to feed ourselves. What are we supposed to eat for dinner?”

    Frank sighed. “It’s better this way. I ate some of that same batch for lunch yesterday and it gave me the runs.”

    They took stock of their empty larder, and went to bed with only a cup of ramen between them.

    “We’ll have to close up shop tomorrow,” Frank sighed as they drifted off to sleep. Jenna bit back bitter tears. This is not what she had in mind when she’d left her first husband for Frank four years ago.

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  • Cindy

    Charles woke up tangled in his blankets, head pounding. It was January 1st, the start of a New Year, and the previous night was mostly a blur. There was an office party, a bar brimming with booze, and a band whose bass was throbbing between his eyes as he sat up. One thing stood out in his wakening memories though: a girl, blonde and beautiful, wearing a pale blue shirt and tight jeans. Her smile drew Charles across the room, and he couldn’t take his eyes off her the rest of the night.

    He squeezed his temples, trying to pressure the throbbing pain into submission. He hadn’t paid any attention to how much drinking he did before midnight, enchanted by this girl, and after the ball dropped, well… he drank even more. He wasn’t sure how he even got home. He pushed himself to his feet and stumbled to the bathroom where the Tylenol, glorious Tylenol, waited. Sitting on the toilet for several minutes, head in his hands, he tried to not think. He failed.

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  • Clowning Around (Flash Fiction)

    Sometimes, when it’s quiet, I can remember what my life was like before the circus came to town.

    Don’t get me wrong. It sucked then too, but nobody had died yet, so there were advantages.

    Now I know you’re probably thinking, “Oh, God. Not another spooky carnival story.”

    Well it’s not. So shut up.

    I’m sick of that crap too. If this was one of those tales, I would’ve rolled over and died already rather than face the idea that I might have to write about it one day.

    I promise you, no carnivals.

    This is more of a creeper clown kind of thing.

    (more…)