I wasn’t going to post this piece as I think its, well,, not very good, but since I kept mentioning sixteen pieces in the introduction, I would have felt incomplete leaving y’all hanging at fifteen, even half a month later; so dear readers, (I have those, right?) here’s some flash fiction that it’s technically your fault if you read and don’t like it…
As I mentioned in this blog entry, I entered a Flash Fiction challenge despite a) Not having written Flash Fiction before, b) not really having time to enter such challenges and c) not actually knowing what Flash Fiction was. We’re now past the end of the first month of the challenge, and at a four piece per week rate, I should have finished already. I didn’t and am a bloody-minded fool, so I’m cheating a little to get all sixteen pieces done by today. Here’s the final piece. This one clocks in at a slender 305 words, which fits my stated goal of “300 – 500 words, hopefully closer to the 300 end.”
Growing up, I always knew I was different from other boys. I think the dreams gave it away. I’d wake up drenched in sweat, heat and embarrassment radiating from my body. I knew that teenage boys weren’t supposed to dream about those sorts of things, so I never told people about them, I think my mom might have guessed though, just from the weird glances she would send my way some mornings, especially after laundry days. At school, I never mentioned the dreams, not even to my closest friends. I didn’t want to freak them out and have them shun me.
After all, not many of my classmates dreamt of burning flames emanating from their bodies and charring everybody around them to blackened skeletons with their flesh, muscle and fat sloughing off of them and sizzling on the ground.
As I grew older, the lines between the dreams and reality became increasingly blurred. I remember waking up on my twenty-first birthday and seeing my arm covered in iron hard red scales. By the time I had crawled out of bed and showered, it had returned to normal flesh, though I remember hearing the water sizzle and seeing it evaporate off of the arm in clouds of sulfuric-smelling steam.
I asked my roommate if he had heard anything strange coming from my bedroom while I slept. He just laughed at me and said that what I got up to in my bed was my own business. I went to tell him that I was serious and to cut out the jokes but before the words could come out of my mouth a gout of blue-white flame did. The flames incinerated him on the spot. Nothing remained of him but a smoking pile of fluffy white ash.
I guess that’s why they locked me up in this place.