Snow Day Delay [FICTION]

I know. This title sounds like a story I have posted before. If you were here last week, you know I promised little tidbits of flash fiction. My intention was to post on Wednesdays because I tend to have alone time to catch up on my writing on wonderful writing Wednesdays, but we got snow and I got two tiny muses who inspired me to not write as they cavorted about the house. I offer these brief compilations of words today to make up for yesterday’s dereliction.

Day 5: Buyer Be Aware

Joan entered the warmth of the pet shop gratefully. As sensation returned to her cheeks, she unbuttoned her coat and scanned the store. The cashier barely glanced at her and didn’t offer guidance. Fortunately, Joan didn’t need any as her eyes quickly zoned in on her desired pet.

A shelving unit inhabited by slithering snakes stood close by the counter. The top aquarium held dozens of corn snakes, happily basking in manmade sunlight. She only looked at them a moment. Her eyes quickly went to a lonely snake in a cage labeled simply “Slither”. He eyes her warily as his tail twitched, drawing her eye to the fact that the tip had been lost somewhere along his life path.

“It’s so beautiful with those diamonds on its back. I must have this one.” She pointed excitedly.

The cashier shrugged and grabbed a box. She scooped the snake out with tongs after donning thick gloves. Joan bit back laughter at the other woman’s obvious fear of the innocent little corn snake.

As soon as she arrived home, she freed Slither from the cardboard box. As she pulled back the flap, he hissed and launches himself at her face. Startled, she dropped the box. His fangs burrowed deep into the skin of her cheek. She screamed and pulled him off her face, which already felt inflamed. She fumbled for my phone and the discarded box, shakily dialing the number on the side of the box.

“Tiny’s Pets,” an anxious voice answered..

She began to explain but barely got past saying she just left with a purchase before the cashier anxiously asks for her address. The cashier repeated it as Joan’s stomach roiled and dizziness lured her into unconsciousness.

She woke to bright lights and rhythmic beeping. An unfamiliar man gazed down at her intently. Her cheek still burned but not as much as his eyes.

“Who are you?” Her throat burned with thirst.

“I’m the person whose snake you accidentally bought. I am glad I got to you in time.”

She stared at him, still fuzzy from her ordeal.

“I brought some anti-venom to pick up my rattlesnake. I’m glad I did. It came in handy.”

“Thank you,” Joan croaked as he handed her a cup of water.

Her hand shook as realization and water both poured out slowly where she needed them most.

Day 6: Final Farewell

I stand before you today to say goodbye to my dear friend. While many expected it to grow into something, I failed to resuscitate the thread of the though. No matter how many words I poured onto the page, it refused to breath and grow. Dearest novel idea, how I wish we had more time. Your demise surprised even me in the end.

Day 7: Times New Roman

Default to me. Take me for a spin and let your words flow out in my form. Remember as you type that I am new and made for times such as these. Don’t be shy with those words. Or I will come for you as a Roman soldier, armed to make you write. No muse could inspire what I will.

Day 8: Obedience Training

I leap up onto the bed. My slave mumbles something and rolls toward me. With closed eyes, her nimble fingers home in on the sweet spot under my chin. I almost forget the gaping hole that is my stomach. Then she falls victim to sleep again. As her fingers fall still, my hunger rises. My purrs subside. I replace them with a plaintive request for food. My slave doesn’t respond. I pat her face gently with my padded paws to the same response. I raise my voice and my paw. This time, the claws are out.

Day 9: Creation

The crowd stands transfixed. Some tilt their heads from side to side as they contemplate the artist’s intent. Carved from dark wood, it rises from the center of the room. Branches of lighter wood have been grafted in as it climbs higher and higher. By the time it reaches its height, hundreds of smaller offshoots threaten to scrape the ceiling. Hanging from each, three letters jingle against each other any time the air stirs, which it does as realization begins to dawn. The family reunion erupts in applause. That dies down. Then excited people migrate toward the letters representing themselves, giggling with those who reside next to them on nearby branches.

Day 10: Peace

I have searched high and low. I have spent millions of hours and even more dollars. Now a woman stands at my door, promising peace. I scan her from head to toe one more time. Neatly dressed in jeans and a plain teal tee, she smiles at me. 

“I know. I don’t look like the typical purveyor of peace,” she grins.

“Or smell of patchouli or incense,” I mumble.

“Exactly. I am not offering that kind of peace.” She reaches into her back pocket.

I sigh. Her absence of tracts had reassured me enough to open the door, but here they come. Instead she pulls out a thin stack of polaroids. 

“You friend Maggie told me that you might be ready to adopt a new fur baby, and we have the sweetest kitten. Her name is Peace…”

She fans out the candid shots, so I can look at the ball of orange and grey fur in her most adorable poses. I take the pictures carefully, trying to resist the pull of my heartstrings as she tells me the tale of this fur baby who could be mine.

Day 11: The Point of This

The weight built all day. Now it presses me down toward the floor. Any minute now, I expect my knuckles to drag the carpet and bring me the rest of the way down. I force my eyes open as another question comes my way. I mumble an answer that seems to satisfy and begin to mount the stairs.

Halfway up, I question why I bought a house with so many stairs. Only six more stairs to go, but I lack strength to climb them. I fall to my knees and rest my face on the riser a few steps above my weary knees. I give into the exhaustion at last as tiny feet pound up the stairs around me, still buoyed with energy I no longer share.