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Flash Friday Week 19- Another Best Day Ever

by

Once upon a time I used to call Drew up after a hard day. We would opine for the apocalypse to end our First World Woes. It was a fantasy, of course. In our youth we didn’t have enough to lose.

Times change but the topic of an apocalypse seems to hang on as we weather the ups and downs of life. Entering into November I wanted to set a goal of using the theme of thankfulness [or joy] for each of my pieces.

Enter the concept of a dog during an apocalypse. This piece is meant to take a look at what the end of civilization would look like through a dog’s eyes. Sure, there would be days without food. There would be danger, there would be homelessness… but can you really get a dog down as long as they have their humans?

Personally, I don’t think so…

Another Best Day Ever

Jill N Davies

“Good morning Barny.”

My human’s sleepy voice signals the beginning of the day. She sits up from her blanket nest. Now we’ll go for a pee walk. I could go without her, but I always wait. She has her spot and I have mine. She zips her coat to the top and we’re off into the marine layer that buries us in this desolate cove.

My human carries a giant stick and I keep my ears pricked and nose to the ground. No one has ever snuck up on my watch and I intend to keep it that way. It used to be, in the before, that my human would get mad about my barking. But now that we’re busy doing other things and there’s only important stuff to bark at, she appreciates my skill.

After the walk, we get busy with the rest of the day. I sniff for signs of game while my human boils water. This morning there isn’t any breakfast so I’m eager for a good hunt. I don’t smell anything new so I head back. My human calls me over so I can bury my face in her hands. She rubs my ears.

“Let’s head to the beach. I’ll fish. Maybe you can dig up some clams?”

I wag my tail to make sure she knows how much I love her and we’re off. She’s carrying her fishing pole, so I’ll probably do some digging after I chase the waves. We’re hungry, but it’s looking like it’s going to be another really good day.

Things are a lot different than they used to be. My human used to leave every day for a long time. It’s better now. My person stopped leaving. We spent days stretched out—her on the sofa and me at her feet. It was pretty good at first, but then the noises came, and everything smelled wrong.

It was a tough adjustment for my human at first. She was really stressed out about everything that was happening, but that was before she understood that I was there to protect her. I bury my nose in in her chest to make her feel good and smell her smells.

A while after the change, on a particularly noisy night, the house got smokey and we had to leave. I was scared. My human took her turn making me feel better. The next day we drove for a long time, until the air was fresh and ocean-y. We live here now. We go hunting, I play in the water while my human fishes, and we spend dark nights by the fire before big snuggles.

I don’t know where she wants to go today so I hang back just enough to watch her move. Today it’s the wide beach with the rocky pools. I like this beach. Birds land here and if I’m extra quiet and fast I can catch one.

My human puts a line out to the kelp while I walk the perimeter. Of all the important things I do, this one is probably the importantest. The smells tell the story of our surroundings.  Most days it’s tons and tons of birds. Sometimes I can smell where the coyotes visited, looking for an easy meal, and there’s always something lingering from the ocean dogs. I hate the ocean dogs.

Today I smell people. Normally I love people, but since the change my human is nervous about them. I trust my human’s judgement because she’s very smart. Now I’m suspicious of humans too.

I follow the smells along the rocky pools where we find crabs and then up to the trees that line the south side of the beach. On of them peed here. It smells thirsty and mean. I don’t like it.

I head into the brush, nose down in concentration. I follow their trail until it intersects the path that we took down to the beach. There, it turns back and overlaps with the smells of hope and adventure. Somewhere inside my brain an alarm howls. I left my human alone on the beach.

Forgetting the trail, I take off through the brush in the most direct path back. I burst onto the beach in a flurry. Two predator humans are stalking mine. A growl burst forth as some ancient part of me awakens. Six strides and I’m at her side. She turns, alarmed by my barks. I sense the moment she spots the threat. I stand at ready, waiting for her command.

“Leave us alone!” she shouts.

“Easy there, we don’t mean any harm,” the mean one says.

“Bull! I’m armed,” she says.

“Sure you are,” the other says.

“Not another step,” she warns. I can smell her fear, but she stands tall, refusing to show weakness.

“We just want to talk,” mean says. He takes another step.

“Barny.”

She doesn’t even say it loud. I’m released from all restraint. The fury of a thousand wolf lifetimes flows from inside of me as I attack. The men change from predator to prey. I smell the moment it happens. They don’t hide their weakness. My jaw snaps down with the fury of the wild.

My human is safe.

We head back to camp in the fading light of a furious red sunset with a line of fish and a bucket of crabs and clams. My human stirs the ashes to coax new flames to life. I check the perimeter, taking extra care while she cooks our diner.

We curl up together in the heat and light of our fire. She rests her hand on the top of my head, rubbing the really good spot between my eyes. She looks up at the stars in the sky. I let out a satisfied groan and nuzzle up against her. She looks down and says, “good boy.”

Things are different now, but I like it. Today was the best day ever.

The End

Don’t have time to read? I read it to you on IGTV:

Want something with a bit more meat on the bones? I write short stories for reedsy. You can check out my entries:

Hungry for more?

I’ve been published in a winter anthology. Check out my short story Shipwrecked Santa in Angry Eagle’s winter anthology, Apocalyptic Winter- Book 2. You can get your copy on Amazon today


If you’ve got an idea for a flash fiction story send it to me at author@jillndavies.com

Tune in next week for more Flash Fiction.

Get your copy of Due North Today!

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Flash Friday Week 18- The Monsters of Ravenwood

by

For the last two weeks Charlie has been saying “it’s Halloween tonight!”

She’s been wrong, of course, but I love her excitement. She loves pumpkins and fall decorations. Ever since our neighbors put out their decorations she’s been keen to have her own.

We finally made her dream come true by picking up about 5 pumpkins and a sparkly dog carrying a jack-o-lantern that lights up at night. She takes trips outside to pet the puppy and kiss the pumpkins because she’s sweet like that.

Watching her grow up has me thinking a lot lately about what the world looks like through a child’s perspective. Thus, with Halloween upon us I came up with the final Fall/Halloween themed piece. Though one of the leads in the story is a little girl, the story is told from the perspective of the parent. I like that it captures the feeling of how things sort of unfurl before our eyes and we feel like we’re along for the ride.

The Monsters of Ravenwood

Jill N Davies

“Tell me again how you found us?”

The vampire’s thick Romanian accent sounded like something straight from a campy horror movie, but I don’t doubt that he’s the real thing. After getting tackled by wearwolf, absorbed by a gelatinous cube, haunted by a gang of ghosts and drooled over by a bunch of zombies, Vlad the vampire was almost a welcome relief. At least he spoke English… mostly.

I wanted to ask myself how I ended up in this situation, but the truth is that I knew the answer. Tina never did have much of an imagination.

“It wasn’t hard to figure it out. I’ve been tracking movement from this sewer drain for months now,” Tina said.

“Ah yes, our secret entrance. You’re a clever little human, aren’t you?” Vlad raised a bushy eyebrow over dark, mesmerizing eyes. I’d get lost in his eyes if it weren’t for the fangs.

“Not a very good secret if you ask me. You guys use it like a revolving door, and he doesn’t even wait till after midnight!” Tina pointed an accusatory finger at the furry giant hanging out in the shadows of the archway.

Vlad followed her gesture. When his eyes lit upon the figure he cursed in another language.

“Sasquatch! We’ve talked about this. You’re too big to be using the front entrance!”

The bigfoot moaned something back at him. I know vampires are supposed to be immortal, but I don’t know that I’d have the guts to stand up to that guy.

“I don’t care if it’s the closest to the woods. You go the back way!” Vlad responded.

Sasquatch bellowed.

Vlad rubbed his temples in exasperation before refocusing his attention on my eleven-year-old daughter. “So, one yeti climbs out of the sewer and you figured out our entire underground city?”

“Well, that and city workers don’t normally have bolts sticking out of their necks—or randomly lose an arm or an ear,” Tina said.

Vlad shifted his gaze to Frankenstein and the zombies, who only lifted their shoulders as if to say eh, it was worth a shot.

“Oh, and fog doesn’t moan or spread out in every direction after it rises from the ground,” Tina added.

The ghosts rushed to hide behind Nessie and the Kraken. Vlad runs his hands down his face in exasperation. “Am I the only one around here that cares to keep our secret society secret?”

“Nah, Mr. Call of the Wild over here is very discrete,” Tina said.

The wearwolf’s massive jaw falls open.

“How’d you figure Buddy out?” Vlad asked.

Honestly, I was wondering the same thing. Buddy’s been our next-door neighbor for 8 years now…

“Okay, first of all his name is Buddy,” Tina started.

“People can be named Buddy,” Vlad protested.

“And second of all, he always gets really itchy and sniffy right before the moon is full,” she finished.

“We’re working on that—That’s not the point! Do you know what you’ve done, coming down here?” Vlad shouted.

It turned out that a shouting vampire is a lot less scary than I might’ve thought, but that could’ve been due to the type of shout. My sweet child had completely unsettled him. She wasn’t even scared. In fact, she looked downright proud.

“I’ve unearthed an entire monster community!” she said.

“That’s a problem,” Vlad said.

“Why?”

“Because people are scared of monsters! What do you think they’re going to do us now that you know we’re down here?” he shouted.

“I’m not scared,” she shrugged.

“Your dad is really freaked out right now.” Vlad gestured and all eyes were on me.

A shudder went down my spine when the giant spider blinked all 8 of her eyes at once. Tina looked like she’d forgotten I was there. I realized they were all waiting for me to say something.

“Hey… monsters…” I managed.

“See? This is what people do when they know about us,” Vlad said.

“He hasn’t done anything,” Tina argued.

“Not yet,” Vlad said. “First, it’s the freak-outs, then it’s pitchforks, torches, silver bullets and wooden stakes…”

Buddy shuddered at the mention of silver bullets.

“And nobody cares that we don’t hurt anybody anymore!” Vlad lamented.

“You… don’t… you don’t?” I asked, keen to learn more about this turn of events.

“No. We are a peaceful community. Kraken here is a pacifist.”

The giant sea monster nodded, and the nearby dock rocked in the wake.

Peaceful? It was a hard pill to swallow—suspicious at best. Weren’t vampires skilled in deception? All at once I realized what they were up to, and that I let Tina fall right into it…

I grabbed her shoulder and tugged. “Stop looking at him, Honey—he’s dangerous,” I said.

“Daaa-aad,” she moaned. I could see her eyes roll through the back of her skull.

“I’m not dangerous!” Vlad protested. “I haven’t had human blood since 1982!”

Tina looked impressed.

“That’s not very long ago,” I protested.

“Some advancements take time! They didn’t perfect the anti-wearwolf serum until 2003!” Vlad said.

“What serum? He’s a wearwolf!”

“Yeah, but did he eat you?” Vlad asked, throwing his arms up in the air. “I don’t know what you humans want from us! We monsters do our best. We’ve made advancements in medicine and technology just like you have. Most ghosts get their haunting done by trolling online. Vampires drink filtered plasma, zombies eat 3D-printed brain matter! All we want is to live in peace in a nice neighborhood!”

“We live right next to monsters. This is so cool!” Tina oozed.

“Okay, I get it. You’re not bad guys,” I said.

“Some of us are girls,” a witch, who was just descending the sewer escalator with a bag full of candy protested.

“You’re not bad folks,” I corrected.

Vlad and the sasquatch nodded.

“So, what happens now?” I asked.

Vlad shrugged. “We wait for the trick-or-treaters to finish up. Buddy will take you home.”

The End

Don’t have time to read? I’ll read it to you on IGTV

Want something with a bit more meat on the bones? I write short stories for reedsy. You can check out my entries:

Hungry for more?

I’ve been published in a winter anthology. Check out my short story Shipwrecked Santa in Angry Eagle’s winter anthology, Apocalyptic Winter- Book 2. You can get your copy on Amazon today


If you’ve got an idea for a flash fiction story send it to me at author@jillndavies.com

Tune in next week for more Flash Fiction.

Get your copy of Due North Today!

Amazon

Kobo Books

https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/due-north-4

Nook Books

https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w?ean=2940162951827

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Flash Friday Week 17- Emotional Support Gourd

by

Fall weather continues to evade the California valley. In fact, I got my first serious sunburn of the year this Tuesday when it was (wait for it…) 91 degrees outside!

While I’m nursing my wounds and mourning the lack of decent weather I continue to harbor fantasies of a real fall somewhere in the world.

Meanwhile, Charlie has told me every single day for the past 5 days that “it’s Halloween tonight.”

At least someone is feeling the fall spirit.

In honor of approaching holidays, and in honor of my genuine love for pumpkins and everything else that I like about cold weather, I give you this week’s flash fiction piece:

Emotional Support Gourd

Jill N Davies

Cole Matherson made the entire 15-minute trip home with a giant pumpkin on his lap and a beaming smile spread across his face. It was a perfect day, maybe even magical. The second-grade class went to the pumpkin patch. There was a corn maze, a scarecrow building contest, caramel apples and then, the best part of all— he got to walk the patch until he found the perfect pumpkin to take home and carve.

Cole’s cheeks were reddened by the blazing fall sun and chapped by wind that carried the whispers of cooler weather into the afternoon. When his mom said he looked like a sun kissed wildling, he’d merely nodded, hoisting his behemoth of a squash into the van and clambering in after it. He lifted it gingerly into his lap and hugged it. His mom asked about the adventure, but Cole barely answered. He was too busy thinking about the day. More specifically, he was thinking about what the pumpkin said to him when no one else was around.

“Hi, I’m Gourd!”

Faced with the task of carving a pumpkin, Cole had two dilemmas. First, he wanted to do something that couldn’t be found on a stencil. Second, he didn’t want to murder his pumpkin—if that was a thing. Not daring to touch his tools until he was certain, Cole rested his chin on the table so that his face was level with the pumpkin and said, “Gourd? My name is Cole.”

Nothing happened. In the background he heard his mom in the kitchen working on dinner.

He waited.

He was nearly certain the whole thing was his imagination running amok when the same small voice said, “Well Cole, you gonna get started or what?”

“I knew it!” Cole gasped, hands flying to either side of his head. “Ohmigosh, you can talk! I have a talking pumpkin.”

“Yep. All pumpkins can talk. But only some kids can hear us,” Gourd said.

“What about grownups?” Cole asked.

“Never grownups!”

“Not even the cool ones? Like Uncle Earnie?”

“Not even Earnie,” Gourd confirmed.

“Woa.” This was special. “What should I do, Gourd?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I don’t want to murder you…” Cole said, scrunching up his face.

“That’s ridiculous! You can’t murder a pumpkin,” Gourd said.

“Not even by cutting you open and scooping out your guts?” Cole asked, eyes wide.

“They’re seeds,” Gourd corrected.

“What about the stringy stuff?” Cole asked.

“It’s stringy pumpkin stuff. That’s just what I’m made of.”

“But will it hurt?” Cole asked.

“Nope. Pumpkins don’t have nerves. Or brains,” Gourd said.

Cole thought about that. He wasn’t sure how a pumpkin without a brain could be talking.

“How….”

“It’s best to not think too hard about it,” Gourd said.

Cole picked up the big saw-tool with the jagged edges and paused.

“But what if you’re wrong?”

“Well, then I guess I’ll scream until the pain is too much and I’m swallowed by eternal silence.”

Cole’s jaw dropped. The saw fell from his hands and clattered on the ground. He scrambled to pick it up, tipping his chair over its axis and losing his balance. He fell, all arms and legs flailing while Gourd cackled.

“I’m kidding! I promise, I won’t feel a thing.”

Cole tentatively poked his head up to look at the pumpkin’s faceless front.

“That’s a bad joke,” he said.

“Sorry. Couldn’t help myself,” Gourd said, still chuckling.

Cole retrieved his supplies, lining them up next to the pumpkin.

“I wasn’t going to do a face, but do you want a face? You know, to go with your voice and stuff?” Cole asked.

“Nah, I don’t need a face. I’ve never had one before, so why would I need one now. Go ahead with your original plan. What’s it going to be? A black cat? Vampire fangs? Happy Halloween with flying bats?” Gourd asked.

Cole fiddled with the saw, looking down at his dirt-stained sneakers. “I was gonna do a dragon…” he mumbled.

“A dragon? That’s awesome. Do a dragon!” Gourd gushed.

“Okay,” Cole said, offering a meek smile.

He sawed off the top of the pumpkin and scooped the seeds and stringy pumpkin stuff, following Gourd’s coaching to get in there good. He was bolstered by the fact that Gourd seemed downright delighted with the carving process.

When the pumpkin was good and clean, and the dragon was etched on the face with a sharpie, Cole picked up one of the smaller precision tools and put it up against the fat black line. The metal edge sat there for a long moment.

“What are you waiting for?” Gourd asked.

Cole looked down, suddenly bashful again. “Well, I don’t want to mess you up.”

“Mess me up?”

“I’m not that good at carving. Every year I get an idea, and every year it ends up not looking right…” Cole blushed.

“Hold the vine, little dude. Doesn’t look right says who?” Gourd asked.

“It doesn’t look like the picture, or what I have in my head,” Cole explained.

“Aw, come on little dude—you’ve got to give yourself some slack. You’re what, 7?”

“And a half,” Cole said.

“And you came up with this dragon all by yourself?” Gourd asked.

“It’s Smaug.”

“But you drew the picture, right?”

“Yeah,” Cole admitted.

“Well then I’m already a million times cooler than some stencil pumpkin!” Gourd said.

“Really?” Cole asked.

“Heck yeah! C’mon, get in there and make me a dragon!” Gourd exclaimed with enough enthusiasm to sweep Cole away.

His first couple cuts were tentative, but under the direction and encouragement of Gourd, he carved with confidence. Forty minutes later, Cole presented the coolest dragon pumpkin anyone had ever seen. His parents gushed over it, making Cole blush.

All night long he heard other trick-or-treaters comment on the awesome dragon pumpkin on Gale St., but for Cole, the only opinion that really mattered was Gourd’s.

The End

Don’t have time to read? I’ll read it to you on IGTV!

Want something with a bit more meat on the bones? I write short stories for reedsy. You can check out my entries:

Hungry for more?

I’ve been published in a winter anthology. Check out my short story Shipwrecked Santa in Angry Eagle’s winter anthology, Apocalyptic Winter- Book 2. You can get your copy on Amazon today


If you’ve got an idea for a flash fiction story send it to me at author@jillndavies.com

Tune in next week for more Flash Fiction.

Get your copy of Due North Today!

Amazon

Kobo Books

https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/due-north-4

Nook Books

https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w?ean=2940162951827

Try a Free Sample of Due North Today:

Get your FREE Sample of Due North TODAY!

All you have to do is sign up for my mailing list!

Get my copy FREE

I’ll never spam you. You can unsubscribe at any time.

Flash Friday Week 16- The Haunting of Quantum Accelerants

by

Do you believe in ghosts?

I see that question anywhere, and while I know it’s supposed to be a yes or no sort of thing, I’ve never been able to answer it. My answer falls more in the range of “kinda?”

There are those who believe that ghosts are completely real, those who believe they’re completely fake, those who think they’re not what we think they are and the folks who just want to profit from their concept.

This week’s story was an exploration of what would happen if someone who thought ghosts were definitely fake had to grapple with being face to face with one. What would he do about the folks he’s always seen as crooks? How does it change his perception of reality?

And of course, who better to put in that role than a serious, cutting edge scientist who prefers to look at things through the laws of physics?

Thus this week’s story was born:

The Haunting of Quantum Accelerants

Jill N Davies

Things had been weird in the labs for Mark for a few days. He wasn’t sure what the problem was, but could trace it back to his last cup of coffee. Nobody was talking to him anymore.

“Hey Fabian, does it seem like the frequency converter is always on the fritz lately?” Mark asked as he ran the calibration sequence again.

Fabien stopped what he was doing and looked back at the machine as it came to life. “Again? What the heck?!”

“That’s what I’m saying,” Mark said, but Fabien ignored him.

“Hey Bea! The frequency converter did that thing again,” Fabien called.

“That’s what I said.” Mark rolled his eyes.

Bea left the particle accelerator to stand next to Fabien. “You still think it’s Mark?”

“Very funny, blaming me for malfunctioning equipment,” Mark said.

“It’s a pretty big coincidence,” Fabien said.

Bea shook her head. “You know I don’t believe.”

“You started it!” Mark protested.

Fabien shrugged. “You agreed to let his brother try to talk to him. C’mon, let’s get some coffee.”

“You talked to Andy?” Mark asked, confused as to why Bea would talk to his kooky brother.

“I’ll have tea. After what happened last time…” Bea started.

“That was probably Mark too,” Fabien laughed. The two physicists exited the lab as though Mark weren’t there.

The next thing Mark knew, an overburdened Andy was ushered into the labs. Mark couldn’t believe Andy had weaseled his way into the labs. But that’s how it was with Andy—always a gimmick. Haunted this, spirits that, electromagnetic disturbances…

Andy chewed his lip while studying the wildly blinking equipment. “He must be trying to communicate.”

Bea rolled her eyes. “Whatever you say, Ghost Man. I just want to be able to run an experiment without something going wrong.”

Andy dumped his equipment at the base of the converter. Mark winced at the noise.

“You asked me to come talk to Mark,” he jabbed.

“Let the man do his job. The sooner the equipment is up and running, the sooner we make history,” Fabien coaxed.

“Fine. If you two are right about this, I can switch back to coffee,” Bea said, following Fabien out of the lab. Mark watched them go. He wasn’t sure what to do—follow them and demand an explanation, or make sure his brother didn’t mess anything up in the lab…

Mark turned away from the door to find that Andy had somehow already finished setting up his gear. Andy flipped a visor over his eyes and started to look around the lab for—what did he call it?—disturbances.

Andy settled his gaze on Mark. “Hey Mark, it’s your bro, Andy. Can you hear me?”

“What are you doing here, Andy?” Mark asked.

Andy watched the panels light up. The ground shook with each word.

“It’s good to hear your voice.”

Mark couldn’t believe Andy’s audacity. How dare he bring his joke of a career into the laboratory! “You came all this way to hear my voice? I’m not buying it. What’s it really? Do you need money?”

“Nah, I came here for you.”

“What sort of yarn did you spin to get in here?” Mark found himself tinkering with the controls again, almost as if he couldn’t help himself.

“They approached me,” Andy said.

The electricity flickered and pulsed. Andy could see his breath as the moisture formed crystals in the frigid air.

“Yeah? And you told them—what? The Laboratory’s haunted?” Mark scoffed.

“The laboratory is haunted,” Andy said.

Mark stormed away from the converter and began tinkering with the accelerator.

“A couple of machines start going haywire and they abandon reason? You must be really good at what you do.”

“I am,” Andy agreed.

“A real con artist.”

“A real ghost hunter,” Andy corrected.

“Yeah? Have you found our lab’s ghost yet?” Mark laughed.

“Yep,” Andy said.

“Who is it? Disgruntled lab tech?”

“Not exactly,” Andy said.

“The suspense is killing me—who died?”

“You did,” Andy blurted.

“Good joke,” Mark laughed.

“It’s not a joke.”

Mark waited for Andy’s face to break.

“That’s why they can’t hear you,” Andy explained.

“You can hear me,” Mark pointed out.

“I know how to listen,” Andy said.

“Because I’m a ghost,” Mark mocked.

Andy nodded.

“Well how’d I die?” Mark asked.

“It was an accident—with the accelerator,” Andy started.

A flash of a memory crossed Mark’s consciousness—something about coffee.

“There’s no such thing as ghosts!” Mark shrieked. Several fluorescent lights shattered.

“What about that then?” Andy asked.

“There’s an explanation. Energy—a rearrangement of atoms…”

“You’re not Dr. Manhattan,” Andy said. It gave Mark an idea.

“If there were an accident, then perhaps I—”

“You exploded like a potato someone heated up to fast.”

Mark sobered.

“Think about it. When’s the last time you touched any of the equipment?” Andy asked.

“I’ve been working on it since you got here!”

“Look at your hands, bro.”

Mark looked down at his hands. He thought they’d been resting on the control panel. They were floating inside the machine. He pulled them away, shocked. He looked at them, then through them, before focusing on his brother.

“I’m a ghost.”

“Yeah you are,” Andy agreed.

“What am I supposed to do now?” He asked.

“How about a cup of coffee? I can show you how,” Andy said.

“No way, we’re on the brink of a breakthrough here, as soon as… as soon as…”

“You quit messing up the equipment,” Andy finished.

“I guess so,” Mark said.

“I can show you how to do that, too,” Andy suggested.

Mark looked at him, seeing his brother for the first time.

“So how about that coffee?” Andy asked.

Mark hadn’t been able to get one since the accident.

“I’d die for one,” he said.

Andy smirked, “You already did.”

“Too soon, dude. Too soon.”

The End

Don’t have time to read? It’s okay! I’ll read it to you on IGTV!

Want something with a bit more meat on the bones? I write short stories for reedsy. You can check out my entries:

Hungry for more?

I’ve been published in a winter anthology. Check out my short story Shipwrecked Santa in Angry Eagle’s winter anthology, Apocalyptic Winter- Book 2. You can get your copy on Amazon today


If you’ve got an idea for a flash fiction story send it to me at author@jillndavies.com

Tune in next week for more Flash Fiction.

Get your copy of Due North Today!

Amazon

Kobo Books

https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/due-north-4

Nook Books

https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w?ean=2940162951827

Try a Free Sample of Due North Today:

Get your FREE Sample of Due North TODAY!

All you have to do is sign up for my mailing list!

Get my copy FREE

I’ll never spam you. You can unsubscribe at any time.

Flash Friday Week 15– The Terror In the Night

by

Another week’s gone by and somehow we find ourselves deep in the heart of October.

This week’s flash fiction is in honor of our late labrador, Omarcus. Omar came to us at 16 weeks old. He was the runt of his litter and too short at the shoulder to be a show quality dog. He was also a male black lab, which, for some reason made him somehow less appealing (not to us, of course!)

When we brought him home people would ask us if he was a Rottweiler, if he was viscous, or what type of dog he was at all. All because he was a black dog. Omar was hands down the best dog in the world. He was sweet, patient, energetic and loaf-like all at once. We enjoyed him for 12 years.

Black pets get overlooked all the time, mostly because they don’t show up as nicely in photographs. This is true regardless of where they come from. In honor of Omar and Halloween, I wrote this story.

The Terror in the Night

Jill N Davies

The toad ambled its way across the great expanse of dirt that carved through the grassy field. A darkness crossed the toad’s path, like the shadow of a cloud shrouding the moon before the sharp pierce of teeth and flash claw ended its existence. The two figured tumbled into the brush that edged the pathway, driven there by the momentum of the attack.

In the wake of the strike all was silent. The orange moon rose over the overgrown branches of the mulberry tree, casting its light across the rickety redwood fence and reflecting in the still waters of the creek, whose waters were shallow and stagnant at the close of summer.

The cat emerged from the brush victorious. The toad’s limp body hung from her triumphant maw as she carried it to a more suitable location. In the distance an owl called out from her high perch—a reminder that she was not the only predator that haunted this domain. But she didn’t care.

Though she was basically still a kitten, she knew her place in the wild. She was darkness, the shadow that blackens the night—the blur that disrupts the star-dusted sky. There wasn’t a creature in this wild place that could frighten her.

The boy stood at the hilltop, just like he had every night for some time now. Whatever he held smelled delicious, but she did not approach him. He was not a ferocious hunter like she was—he was just a youngling.

The boy’s face dropped as once again the kitten ran past him with her latest catch and disappeared beyond the fence line. He pocketed the pouch of tuna and, shoulders slumped, headed back inside.

She ran on, cautious, but not cautious enough. The door snapped shut, trapping her inside. Forgetting about the frog, and about everything fierce about herself, the kitten proceeded to panic. But no matter how much she yowled of screamed, the door cage remained fastened shut.

She was taken to a place of beasts and predators. The humans had bested her. They carried her in her cage so she couldn’t lash out with claw of fang. She hissed with fury and rage at the hands that dared get close enough for her to reach, but she was unable to make contact.

She was dumped into another cage—this one fixed in place with cement. She would not be escaping her tiny prison, and even if she could, she didn’t want to. The stench of other beasts was strong. She could smell their ferocity—the pheromones of a dozen hungry dogs. She would not be able to fight her way out of this place.

The kitten slinked up to a bowl of water and took a few laps before curling into the corner of the cage.

She tried to sleep, but the beasts wouldn’t stop barking. She knew they must be hunting her. All she could do was cower in the far corner of her cage. Humans came to offer food—dried pellets of something that smelled like meat. She ate it once, but then the barking started again and she returned to her corner.

The morning after the third night something happened.

It was normal for humans to pass by her cage, wandering the halls and ushering various dogs around and paying her no mind. When the bell rang, alerting her of another human’s arrival she did nothing more than readjust her position at the corner of her cage while the humans began their conversation. Being a wild cat, she couldn’t understand their language, so what was the point?

“Good morning sir. You haven’t happened to catch any black kittens lately have you?”

It was a familiar sound. It made her heart race and stirred her from her corner.

“Got a real skittish one in the back, I’ll take you to see,” the cage warden replied.

She made her way to the front of the cage, pressing her nose against the mesh and straining to hear the voice over the cacophony of barks. She could smell something delicious. It made her stomach rumble. As the humans got closer she was torn between remaining at the front and cowering in the back. She waited, unsure what she expected.

When the boy approached her cage, their eyes met.

“That’s her.”

“She’s your cat?”

“I sure want her to be. I’ve been trying to get her to come up to me for a while.”

He put his fingers against the mesh. She should have lashed out, but she didn’t. She sniffed him.

“I’d like to take her home,” the boy said.

The cage opened. Ignoring the cage warden’s protests he reached hands in and gently wrapped her up into his embrace. She didn’t fight. A strange sound vibrated from within her, unbidden.

“Would you look at that,” The cage warden marveled.

The boy carried her past the dogs. One barked and she stiffened.

“Quiet you,” He rebuked.

She marveled at the way he commanded the dog—completely unafraid.

She’d been wrong about him. He wasn’t a youngling. He was like her, and he freed her from the trap she’d foolishly fallen into.

The boy took her to the top of the hill to the same place he waited every night. He opened the carrier and she bounded out. She was home. Her domain splayed out before her. She knew she should run until she could hide, but she remained as though something had frozen her in place.

Indecision.

The boy opened his hand and offered her the smelly stuff, hope glistening in his eyes. She sniffed. Their eyes met. She ate the food offered by the fellow warrior.

The boy smiled.

The End

Don’t have time to read? I read it to you on IGTV

Want something with a bit more meat on the bones? I write short stories for reedsy. You can check out my entries:

Hungry for more?

I’ve been published in a winter anthology. Check out my short story Shipwrecked Santa in Angry Eagle’s winter anthology, Apocalyptic Winter- Book 2. You can get your copy on Amazon today


If you’ve got an idea for a flash fiction story send it to me at author@jillndavies.com

Tune in next week for more Flash Fiction.

If you’ve got an idea for a flash fiction story send it to me at author@jillndavies.com.

Tune in next week for more flash fiction.

Get your copy of Due North Today!

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Flash Friday Week 14 Roommates

by

It’s finally October which, for many locations means that fall is in full swing. If it isn’t, then there’s likely signs that Fall is on its way.

Here in the California valley, however, it’s been in the high 90s. There are no pumpkins, no apple cider or hot chocolate… In fact, the very thought of a hot pumpkin spice latte is downright unappealing. The leaves are dying because it’s just plane hot. Oh, and the sky is filled with smoke. In short, it’s not very fall-like.

But I love October because of the promise of cooler weather. So I wanted to do a special 4-week October-themed stretch of Flash Fiction– Things like black cats, sentient pumpkins, ghosts…. and of course spiders.

In the midst of the summer that won’t quit the one sure sign that October is here is all the spiders. They’re on the move. In California we’ve got summer, fire season, spider season, a week or two of fall weather, then what the locals like to call “winter.”

That’s why I’ve decided to kick off October Flash Fiction with this piece.

Without further delay, I give you:

Roommates

Jill N Davies

Hey, my name’s Stew and I’m a common American house spider. But there’s something not so common about me. In fact, it’s totally, completely awesome: my roommate is football legend Heinrich Jackson. There’s literally nothing I could complain about when it comes to him… except for one thing: his girlfriend has got to go!

First of all, I know what you’re thinking: how does a house spider even know what football is? Well, let me ask you something: when was the last time you were in a house that didn’t have a TV in it? So yeah, I know what football is.

And Heinrich is the real deal—champion linebacker. Total of 62 sacks in two seasons… and who could forget that legendary interception return for the winning touchdown last season? I know I couldn’t!

But you don’t have to know the first thing about football to know that Heinrich is one helluva guy. He always donates to the exotic animal foundation. I like to think that he does it because of me—because I’m kind of exotic. That and we’re best friends.

When Heinrich’s home we do everything together.

Last month he was home and we were having fun cleaning. He was dusting and picking up clutter. I was making quick work of some fruit flies that had descended upon the bananas that went bad while Heinrich was away.

In his fervor to get the place cleaned up, Heinrich swept up my web. The whole thing happened so fast that I barely had time to evacuate.

Heinrich felt awful, and being the nice guy he is, came back the next day with a replacement. It didn’t matter that it was useless, it was both an apology and a gesture of friendship.

Who would’ve thought a guy like that would end up dating a monster?

I didn’t know it at first on account of it being a long-distance relationship. He met her at an away game. She seemed nice enough in their video chats, but the truth is that she’s jealous. She wants Heinrich all to herself, and I can prove it.

Yesterday she was here for the first time. Heinrich had this romantic evening planned, with candles, fancy plates, wine… the whole thing, ya know? I mean, sure he’s a football player, but he’s a sweetheart deep down. He wears his heart on the overstretched sleeves that cover his hulking football biceps.

I knew how important it was, so I’d made sure to take care of all the bugs in the apartment.

The place was in great shape when she showed up. I could tell Heinrich was nervous from his laugh, but the night was going great. They ate the dinner and drank wine on the sofa while they watched a movie.

I was doing my best to be a good roommate and keep out of their way. The last thing I wanted was be the guy to barge in on their date, but there was a fly making a racket landing on the dirty dishes. I had to do something.

I figured it would be a quick job—get in, handle the fly, get out. They were watching the movie, anyway. No one would ever know I was there. Some spiders are ambush hunters, but not me. I need a web to catch my prey. I had to do a quick job between the faucet and counter. I was just finishing up when Bethany got up from the couch.

“Want more wine?” She asked, trying to sound all nice and considerate.

“Nah, I got practice,” Heinrich said, responsible as ever.

She took both glasses into the kitchen and set them down on the counter. I did my best to slink away into the shadows, but she spotted me.

“Oh my god Heinrich! There’s a spider!” She yelled.

“What? Lemme see,” Heinrich said, getting up from the couch. (I’m sure he was confused about what I was doing in the kitchen. I normally stick to the archway between the dining area and the hall.)

He sauntered up and put his arm around Bethany. (It was obvious how much he liked her, so I don’t know why she had to be so insecure.) She pointed to where I was hiding in the crevasse between the counter and the sink. Her finger tore right through my fresh web.

“Oh hell no,” Heinrich said, seeing how tucked in I was. He got a paper towel because the sink was wet.

Knowing that Heinrich was concerned about me, I decided to show him that I was fine. I crawled out from the crack to give him a thumbs up.

“I got him babe,” He said to Bethany as his awesome, massive hand made its way down to give me our very first high five.

“Oh Heinrich, don’t do it!” Bethany squealed, turning her head away as if she couldn’t stand to see two bro’s bonding.

“He’s not staying. Not in my house!” Heinrich insisted, knowing how dangerous it was for me by the sink.

“Just put him outside,” She said, putting her hand on his outstretched arm to stop him.

“No way I’m not handling a live spider like that!” He said (because he respects me.)

 “Fine, I’ll do it,” She said.

She grabbed a cup and slammed it down. It scared the crap outa me! I jumped off the counter and clung to the side of the glass with a bit of webbing. (It comes out on its own sometimes when I’m scared).

“Got him!” She yelled.

And just like that she scooped me up and raced out the door. I landed in the bushes. Satisfied that I was banished, she turned back into the apartment and slammed the door.

I mean, what a jerk right? Kicking me outa my own house!

As soon as I get back in there Heinrich and I are going to talk.

I just have to get his attention while she’s sleeping…

The End

Don’t have time to read? I’ll read it for you on IGTV!

Want something with a bit more meat on the bones? I write short stories for reedsy. You can check out my entries:

Hungry for more?

I’ve been published in a winter anthology. Check out my short story Shipwrecked Santa in Angry Eagle’s winter anthology, Apocalyptic Winter- Book 2. You can get your copy on Amazon today


If you’ve got an idea for a flash fiction story send it to me at author@jillndavies.com

Tune in next week for more Flash Fiction.

If you’ve got an idea for a flash fiction story send it to me at author@jillndavies.com.

Tune in next week for more flash fiction.

Get your copy of Due North Today!

Amazon

Kobo Books

https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/due-north-4

Nook Books

https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w?ean=2940162951827

Try a Free Sample of Due North Today:

Get your FREE Sample of Due North TODAY!

All you have to do is sign up for my mailing list!

Get my copy FREE

I’ll never spam you. You can unsubscribe at any time.