- November 23, 2024
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I am believer in the power of fiction. Reading stories can help us to stay aware that our neighbors are leading inner lives that we will never understand. On the other hand, some stories can help us to realize that our own loneliness and struggles are not unique — that we are not as alone as we might think.
And on top of that, it’s just fun to read stories. They’re a great diversion.
With that in mind, I’d like to begin accepting very short stories — Flagler Flash Fictions — for possible publication in the Palm Coast Observer.
Here are the guidelines:
First, the story must be less than 1,000 words, and shorter is better.
Second, the story must be set in Flagler County. Make me feel like it belongs in a local newspaper. (Mentioning the Palm Coast Observer in the story is an added bonus.)
Third, the story must be rated PG.
Fourth, the story must not obviously be about a real Flagler County resident.
Unfortunately, I probably won’t be able to publish very many submissions in a given year. But if we get a lot of great stories, maybe we can do a fiction issue and/or put some Flagler Flash Fictions online.
Submit to [email protected]. Email submissions only — no hard copies. Here’s my attempt at following my own rules:
The Glitch & Go
Victoria Glitch had owned the Glitch & Go gas station on the north side of State Road 100 for two decades. Her latest competitor, Fast Start Service Station, had shinier pumps, was only a 7-iron away — she knew because she had tested it out late one night — and had a sign boasting regular unleaded at “Two Pennies Less Than Glitch.”
But her regulars didn’t seem to care. Some days, she wished they would wise up, buy the cheaper gas and let her go peacefully out of business and into a long overdue retirement. “Creatures of habit in this town,” she muttered to herself.
Early Monday morning, her knees creaked across the parking lot, and she eased onto a stool behind the counter, lying in wait for Darcy, her 16-year-old employee from hell. Darcy was the daughter of her son’s third wife, Helen, whom Victoria hated. When it was discovered that Helen was texting and driving when she crashed into a red light camera pole on Palm Coast Parkway and died three months ago, Victoria thought, A grown woman should have known better than to text and drive.
But she was being judgmental. Victoria knew she had a problem with that. And so, after several weeks of intense guilt for having hated Helen, she hired Darcy as an act of atonement.
It turned out to be a disaster. Darcy filled in for a few hours at the cash register and it was off by $20 at the end of the day. It was either incompetence or thievery, Victoria couldn’t tell which. Darcy was always rolling her eyes at customers and wiping anarchy symbols with her finger on the dusty tops of vegetable cans in the convenience shop. All that was objectionable enough, but then, after the perpetually clogged toilet had just been fixed, Darcy posted a sign in sloppy penmanship: OPEN TO THE PUBIC.
It was possible that she was simply a bad speller, but Victoria was not one to give the benefit of the doubt.
And so, she waited, sitting on the stool behind the counter, ready to fire Darcy as soon as she came in the door, after only three days on the job. Some people are all nerves in this situation, but she didn’t mind letting people go. It was a business decision, and there was something pleasing in the emotional distance of the cruel truth.
In walked Darcy, her skater shoes clomping on the tile floor. Her hair was the typical purple, but today she had added streaks of pink. And it looked like she was wearing the same black T-shirt that she wore all day yesterday, a little too tight around the belly. Yes, Victoria thought, sometimes you just have to be cruel.
Then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw a black-clad man run into the woods behind the store, just as, inexplicably, the pavement burst into flames. Ripples of liquid light reached for the sky. Victoria grabbed the fire extinguisher from under the counter and galloped around the rows of gum and king-sized candy before she saw that the flames were already gone. The man in black was watching from behind a bush. He didn’t seem concerned with being caught. When he waved sheepishly, Victoria threw the door open and yelled, “Get over here!” The man, who now seemed less a full-grown criminal and more of a fat teenage michief-maker, disappeared into the woods. “Young man!” she screamed. She went out to inspect the ground 20 feet in front of the store and saw it was dusted in black, as if ashes had been sprinkled in a ring, but no real damage had been done.
She turned and saw Darcy standing in the doorway of the store, her hands on her cheeks, her face pale and vacant.
“Do you realize what could have just happened?” Victoria yelled. Then she said more quietly, “Can someone tell me what is going on here? Meaning you.”
Darcy shook her head but remained in the same frozen posture.
“You know this person?” Victoria demanded.
Darcy nodded.
Victoria grunted in disgust and hobbled past her to replace the fire extinguisher and rest again on the stool, gathering her managerial composure to deliver the bad news quickly now, so she could get rid of the girl before any costumers, who would be arriving any second, could be set on fire by these people.
“It was my mom,” Darcy said, still looking out the door.
Victoria rolled her eyes. “What was your mom?” she said.
“Jimmy said people’s spirits turn into fire when they die, and you can feel them whenever you see a fire. And he said he had a surprise for me to help me get closer to my mom because he knows how I’ve been feeling lately.”
Victoria sat motionless, her eyes fixed on the girl.
“That’s why he lets a match burn all the way down when he lights a cigarette,” Darcy continued, with a hint of teen melodrama. “To let the spirit live another few seconds.”
“Nonsense,” Victoria said, but she immediately regretted it. She imagined what might have happened if the fire had not been so brief and controlled — likely a splash of gasoline on the ground, plus a match was all it had been — but it could have blown the Glitch & Go to kingdom come. The aging pumps, the lime green awning, the subterranean tanks of gasoline. The reason she got up every morning. Blown to kingdom come.
She watched from behind as Darcy continued to stare out at the scorched asphalt. Victoria felt perfectly distant from whatever emotion Darcy was experiencing, the hope and mystery, the unbearable passion of youth.
Submit: [email protected]
