The Social Porcupine

Cockroaches and Math It was early morning, but I felt today was perfect. My friend, Rose, was in the kitchen, her music playing gently as she started breakfast. I skipped into the kitchen, “The animals - can you help me find them?” Rose motioned toward the back porch, “I just let them out.” I sang loudly with Rose’s music (a song I’d never heard before) as I rushed to the pantry. I asked Rose, “Would you like me to cut sourdough?” She nodded, smiling. I knew she hated cutting through the hard crust. I cut the bread, still singing. I dropped several pieces into the toaster. “I have this great idea for a short story! About a good cockroach. It’s sad how people hate them, so I want to portray how they are mistreated.” Rose’s eyebrows arched sharply. The cat and dog scratched at the door. I threw the knife into the sink, ran to the door, and let the animals in, pouring food into their dishes. I came back into the kitchen, stuffed food into my mouth, and sang. “My, you...

Young And Stuck He was too young to be running from the law. Mistakes. They shouldn't affect him yet... he was just a kid. A kid holding a bank bag, running from raging sirens. “It was a mistake,” tears squeezed from his eyes as he clutched the bank bag, wishing he could throw it far away. He was stuck. He didn’t know what to do, what he needed. A place to hide. That’s all he needed before his legs turned him in. A hospital. He ran inside. The halls were empty, full of doors. Which one would hide him? Would any? He didn’t know, so he chose one. A whimper startled him; the boy screamed a single curse word. “A baby,” he tried to laugh, but his nerves were too tight. He neared to the crib. “All alone?” he whispered. “I wish for your peaceful solitude. I had a baby brother. Are you a baby boy? Or a girl? I feel like I’m talking to the air.” Footsteps exploded in the hall. The boy fell to the floor, hiding behind the crib. The door opened, a painful jolt erupted insi...

New Hair I know we should go, my daughter and I. But I can’t manage to make myself move. The scissors in my hand clang to the floor. What have I done? They’re expecting us, my family. But wait until they see me. Linnie knocks on my bedroom door, but she doesn’t wait for me to answer. She rushes in. “Mom, we’re late-“ her words change. “Your hair.” I laugh. “Yes, Linnie. My hair.” “It’s on the floor.” her words shatter me. I forget about being strong and not scaring her. I start sobbing, pulling at the hair that remains on my head. For so long I loved my hair... it was my pride. I kept it long, healthy, beautiful. Now it falls through my clothes, itching my skin. It clings to the carpet floor. It’s all gone. Linnie doesn’t freak. She’s too mature for a child. She gives me a quick hug. “We need to go.” Somehow she drags me to the car. She fastens my seatbelt. “It’s OK, Mom. Just drive. I’ll tell you when to turn.” I don’t pay attention to the speedometer or...

Love Warms  The child had discovered many things in her few short years. Tonight she thought of them as she spent her last night wrapped by cold. Confidence is choosing to not care. Not caring hardened one, made them as stone. Stones crumble, with none to keep them from washing away in the storm. There was no way to shelter oneself from the onslaught of betrayal and treachery one faced from every person that pretended to be friend. Yet she also knew she could not live much longer. Not without someone to trust, to help her. To show her love’s warmth. Love must be warm. She shivered. “I will if you give me a chance. I love you already.” The voice was distant, as if a memory. But she knew the sound. She looked about her, hoping to see a face. There were many faces passing by, but none had eyes to see her. Memories flashed before her eyes. A black book. A man that read words from that book, who spoke in the big, beautiful, warm church. That man did not understan...

Inevitably Selfish  “To be whole is to be broken. To be connected is to be separated. One must know madness to  understand this, and all that dwells deeper inside the mind.” The professor smiled toward his students.  Vann winced. To him that smile felt wrong, evil. He raised his hand.  “Yes, Vann?” The professor sighed, as if he'd rather not hear Vann’s voice. Vann already had a reputation, after just three classes.  Vann’s seat mate, Maggie, elbowed his ribs. “You’ve got him worried.”  Vann ignored her. “It sounds to me as if you are proposing a form of selfishness? One that leads the searcher down a path of loneliness.”  The professor gritted his teeth, smiling. “First I'll ask you each a question. Tell me, one of you that is not hurt by another? Who is not deep down weighed by past wrongs? Who cannot grasp the future because one from the past holds you captive?”  Vann did not answer, could not. ...

Note: I've decided to start posting flash fiction every Saturday, as I've been writing a 250 word short story every week for a contest I'm a part of! I have a lot of tales to share, so for now I'll be posting three every Saturday. Eventually I'll post only one. Enjoy! I Have A Secret “Hey, you.”  I look around. The sidewalk is crowded with bums and hippies, a few “decent” folk trying to make their way. I know nobody. I keep walking.  “Wait! I was talking to you.” Somebody pulls on my sleeve, a young girl, maybe eight?  “What do you want?”  “Nothing. I just want you to sit by me.”  I stifle a laugh.  “I have a secret - I'll say it out loud to you if you sit by me.”  “I'm kinda busy kid,” I pull my phone out of my pocket to check the time. If I don't hurry I'll be late for work.  “That's what everyone says,” the kid’s eyes fall.  Something melts inside of me. “Where do you want to sit?”  A smile lights up the ...