I flew when I was five. Playing witch, I’d climb onto the dining room table then jump as high and far as I could into a sea of pillows I’d placed on the floor. I was five, but understood enough about physics to know falling meant pain. It only took a few tries for me to touch the popcorn textured ceiling, but I didn’t revel in my power until I’d actually hit my head and the pillow sea had to extend to the living room to catch my fall. I’d cackle as I “flew”, imagining myself flying against the backdrop of a full moon in a night sky.
Imagination is power is one of the first things I learned. So, imagine my surprise when, one day, I jumped and kept going – beyond the dining room and past pillows. I yanked my stick to the side in a desperate bid to avoid the disaster of crashing into the credenza loaded with my mother’s plants. Shocked when I turned in mid-air, I had no time to process what was happening as I sailed, head on, into the disaster of crashing into the fireplace and toppling my mother’s photos.
It took me a while to move. I banged my head and slammed my elbow pretty hard. But I was five, recovery was quick. When my head cleared I wondered if my bones were okay – and what else was possible.
“Frank! Come on in.” Her smile faltered when he hesitated and Frank suppressed a rush of indignation at the sight of her office. It should be his. Instead, he silently fumed, the Board chose this black chick to be Director of Biochemical Processes; ostensibly, because of her supposed “outstanding education” and “groundbreaking achievements”. But Frank knew the truth: political correctness run amok! She probably learned chemistry in some crack-house somewhere and Stanford tripped over themselves to get her because of affirmative action. When he said as much, his colleague called a racist! Frank told him a racist was just an insult to a white man who wanted a level playing field. It wasn’t fair. Things have gone off the rails since he was a kid. Nothing made sense anymore- except the 9×19 Sig Pro tucked into the back of his pants. Guns made sense where there was none.
I discovered a piece I wrote earlier this year and surprised myself. It was a flash fiction piece using the prompt “an impulse purchase starts an intergalactic war” and it was pretty funny. I was so delighted I questioned if I even wrote it, but I did, and it was a pretty amazing feeling. I can’t wait to share it with you guys – next week.