We've Moved

Mad Utopia has moved. That's right, my blog has made a radical shift. While still called Mad Utopia, and still hosted on the same servers, the underlaying framework has changed. I am abandoning TikiWiki as my blogging software and going with WordPress. If you have this blog bookmarked, or subscribe to the RSS feed, please take a moment to change those settings over to the new and improved Mad Utopia. I'd really appreciate it.

What does this mean for #fridayflash?

The #fridayflash Twitter meme is alive and well. In fact, there is a new web form that you can use to log your story in for inclusion in The #fridayflash Report. Follow the link, or click on the #fridayflash Badge in the right-hand menu. This will take you to the form.

The form is a little quirky right now, but it works. If you are a member of my TikiWiki and loged in, the form works like most forms, with fields to fill in, an anti-bot CAPTCHA, and a Submit button. Except in Internet Exploder, where it tends to explode. But it still works. It just looks funky. We hope to clean that up at some point, but as my CSS teacher once said, “IE and CSS can drive you nuts.”

For guests, the form looks very weird, even if you are using other browsers. Again, it still works. After you fill out the fields, enter the CAPTCHA and hit ENTER. The form will successfully submit. There is a save button way up at the top left-hand corner, but it's easier to just hit return.

I hope to eventually have a #fridayflash button on the WordPress blog. I still need to figure out how to place clickable images in the WordPress right-hand menu. If you have any tips along those lines please pass them on.

Sorry about the messy form, but no move goes without a hitch.

What does this mean for the blog?

My new posts will be done on the WordPress side of the house. This means you can now use a normal commenting system instead of that funky one where you had to enter a title. Now it will be easy for you to leave links back to your own blogs. Hooray!

It also means that I can start to use some of the standard blog tools and widgets to spiff up the site. Mad Utopia is still in a state of flux, so bear with me. Eventually all the public pages will be done with WordPress, while TikiWiki will be used to drive operations in the background (such as generating the Report). I hope you like the changes as much as I do.
~jon

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What A Terrific Crew

I want to thank everyone who took the time to participate in the very thoughtful discussion on yesterday's post, Course Correction. What a wonderful crew we have here. I read each and every one of your comments and think I can draw some general conclusions.

Calm Seas Ahead

In broad terms, I believe we are doing almost everything right. The meme seems to work well for most everyone who commented. The only real concern is that some of us (me being one of the prime examples) may have been going overboard with the tweets and retweets. I think we need only apply a slight course correction to achieve clear sailing.

So here's the plan, or at least how I intend to proceed. You are all free to follow suit or not, depending on whether you think it will work well for you. That is, I will simply carry on as before, with the exception of cutting way back on tweets and retweets.

This Friday I plan to tweet my own story no more than three times on Friday. One of those tweets will certainly be around Noon, Eastern Time, on the theory that many people in the Eastern Time Zone (US) will be web surfing at their computers during lunch. The other two times will be as opportunity affords, probably just before work, and when I get home. I won't do any straight retweets. Not a one. I will continue to post tweets for those who do not have access to Twitter. Those usually come after work. I'll try to do that at least twice (since the morning crowd will already be history).

If I am able to read a story I like I will post an original review tweet, but my time is limited and I'm a slow reader. I expect my #fridayflash tweets to drop from around seventy or eighty to around ten or twelve. I will post The #fridayflash Report on Saturday, as usual. Then, over the course of the week I will periodically read some of the stories and will post original review tweets for the ones I really like. If everyone does something similar I think we will have a much less frantic #fridayflash, and potentially a much more effective one.

Stand By, Mates

Many other issues were brought up in the discussion yesterday. There were many valid points and suggestions made. They do need to be addressed, but for now I think we can table them for later. The big issue that needed to be addressed was nipping the overtweeting issue in the bud. We can hash these other things out at our leisure.

More Scuttlebutt

Stand by for more exciting news tomorrow. There is a #fridayflash contest in the works. Yes, I'm a big tease and will say no more until tomorrow's post.

OK, I lied. Here's a little more... It is designed to help bring you more readers.

Carry on.
~jon
Photo, Sunrise At Sea from the National Media Museum via Flickr Creative Commons

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Course Correction

An issue has come up, from more than one quarter, about the number of tweets and retweets of #fridayflash links on and around Fridays. This is something that worried me early on. I wondered if all my retweeting would become an annoyance for people who follow me. Annoying people is the polar opposite of what we are trying to do, after all.

I have limited time to get onto Twitter during the work day, at break times and lunch. At those times I try to catch up with who has posted a link, and then retweet them. I tend to do them in big batches. I think many of us do the same. This may not be the wise way to go.

Build Platform, Not Spam

The simple fact is if we, as a group, begin to overwhelm people's Twitter feeds they will come to regard us as spamers. Instead of building followers, we may drive them away. I don't want to see that happen. So far #fridayflash has been pretty darned successful, at least for me and people who have confided in me. In order to keep that success growing I think we need to make a minor course correction.

A New Strategy

I still think the concept of #fridayflash is sound. I also think we now have a large enough community to sustain it without all the frantic retweeting that currently goes on. The original concept of #fridayflash was to expose exemplar samples of your craft to the potentially huge audience on Twitter. Of course, in order to do that you have to tweet the URL so that people on Twitter will see it.

What I propose is that we continue to do our #fridayflash just as before: write your story, publish it on your blog on Friday, and tweet the link to it on Twitter along with the hashtag. But don't retweet your own link more than once or twice during the day. Morning, noon and night would be a good rule of thumb. Perhaps even just twice. Also, resit the urge to do broadside retweets of others. I have been very guilty of this, and it must drive people who follow me, who are not fellow flashers, nuts. Then, during the rest of the week, tell the world about the exceptional stories you read with an original tweet, not a retweet, along with a mini review. For example, if I read Randy Rocks the World on Tuesday and think it was really funny I might tweet this, on Tuesday:

This will keep the #fridayflash concept front and center without overwhelming the general public on Fridays (and a good bit of Thursdays and Saturdays). And it will fortify another founding principle of #fridayflash – that the cream will rise to the top.

Your Thoughts

I would love to see some discussion, both pro and con, on this concept. I feel that #fridayflash has truly become a community. I want to see it continue to grow. If any of you have other ideas on how we can get the word out without alienating people with a flood of retweets I'd love to hear them. Lily Mulholland, @CascadeLily, has suggested we start a webring. That sounds like a good idea to me. Any other suggestions? We have a clever group of people here. I'm sure we'll figure it out.
~jon

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Related items:

The #fridayflash Archive
Some Friendly #fridayflash Advice
Friday Flash – Behind the Scenes on Writers n' Writers
Flash Fiction Gets Social on Editor Unleashed
A Conversation With Laura Eno
Announcing #fridayflash

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Image by the National Maritime Museum via Flickr Creative Commons

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Permalink 65 comments

The #fridayflash Report

By now you know the routine. It is inevitable that I've missed someone's story, so I'll just say there are at least 63 stories this week. Stay tuned for a final count. If I missed yours don't hate me, just ping me down in the comments or on Twitter and I'll add it.

Conversely, if I've included your story and for some reason you don't want to be on the list, ping me for that too, and I'll take you off. My assumption is that if you tweet under the #fridayflash hashtag you want to be included. But sometimes other people may tweet the link to your story, which can lead to a misunderstanding on my part. That almost happened last week.

Three quick reminders that can help both you and me:
1. Use a URL shortening service. Your links tend to get mauled upon retweeting if you don't.
2. Use links to your post, not to your overall blog. That way people will find your story if they are browsing thorough the archives. I will no longer adjust links in the report. It just takes too much time.
3. If you format your tweet Title, by John Doe it makes harvesting the info needed for this report a whole lot easier. I am going to see if I can get folks who do this canonized. :)

Lots of great stories, as always. So get out there and start reading!

5 Minutes, by Mark Kerstetter @markerstetter

A Child and the Musician (part 2), by C. A. Beninati @beninati

A Spiral-Maker's Questions, by Jeff Posey @AnasaziStories

Are There Always Dogs? by Dana @ywgdana

Balatrophobia, by Gary Harmon @Gary_Harmon

Beautiful Living, by Estrella Azul @EstrellaAzul

Because I Can, by Kevin J. Mackey @kevinjmackey

Black Male, by Michael Solender @mjsolender

Call of Duty, by Marisa Birns @marisabirns

Calm Before the Storm, by Monica @MonicaEmme

CAMP, by Jeremy C. Shipp @JeremyCShipp

Coming Home, by KayAnna Kirby @kayannak

Communion, by Joseph Paul Haines @josephhaines

Daisy, Daisy, by Susan J. Cross @SusanJCross

Dear Elizabeth, by John Wiswell @Wiswell

Delivered Fresh, by Laura Eno @lauraeno

EULA, by Cecilia Dominic @RandomOenophile

Faerie-led, by Laurita Miller @LauritaMiller

Fog and Lembas, by Deirdre Murphy @Wyld_Dandelyon

forgetting to run away, by Laura Packer @storylaura

Fumbling, by Rachel Blackbirdsong @RBlackbirdsong

Happy Ending, by Trevor Mcpherson @3S_stories

Hibernation 2009, by Rosa Say @talkingstory

High Feast, by Maria Protopapadaki-Smith @mazzz_in_Leeds

Humbling, by Rachel Blackbirdsong @RBlackbirdsong

I Got Robbed by a Liquor Store, by Alex Carrick @Alex_Carrick

Immersion, by Lily Mulholland @CascadeLily

In Memory Alone, by Al Bruno III @AlBruno3

In The Name of Science, by Linda Simoni-Wastila @drwasy

Intervention, by Tony Noland @TonyNoland

Jack & Jill, by Elizabeth Ditty @ditty1013

Life On The Edge, by Leigh Barlow @LeighBarlow

Mommy Dearest, by Stefanie Howerton @SteferstheGreat

Organics, by J. M. Strother @jmstro

PARASITE, by Jeremy C. Shipp @JeremyCShipp

Nox and Grimm: A Sticky Situation, by techtigger @techtigger

Righteous Be, by unlikelyeden @unlikelyeden

Sea Glass, by Shannon Esposito @soesposito

Silent Treatment, by Taliana via the web

Slide into Satin and Gold, by Michelle D. Evans @MichelleDEvans

Snapped, by Jodi MacArthur @JodiMacArthur

Snow Quiet, by Deanna Schrayer @deannaschrayer

Take a Hit, by Donald Conrad @NoddlaNocdar

The Canon, by Llanor Alleyne @Scetches

The Darkening, by Alan Baxter @AlanBaxter

The Lake, by Jim Wisneski @Wisneski

The Lake Story, by Tim VanSant @TimVanSant

The Last Page...., by Chance @Chance4321

The Shark, by P.J. Kaiser @Doublelattemama

The Test, by Barb Relyea via email

The Treasure Box, by E. D. Johnson @geektreasure

The Tree Hugger, by T.J. McIntyre @southernweirdo

The Way Home, by Amanda Scotney @rasplemjelly

Things Are Going to Change, by Clive Martyn @CliveM

Training, by Lauren Cude via Facebook

Trout, by Jeremy C. Shipp @JeremyCShipp

untitled, by Elsa Pozu @elsapozu

V, by Paul D. Brazill @paulbrazill

Vertigo, by Sumit Dam @sumitsays

When a Man Goes Bad, by Jon Gilbert @storytellerjon

White, by ganymeder @ganymeder

Wizard's Last Hope, by Chris Chartrand @ChrisChartrand

Thanks to all our readers. We love you. And please, if you enjoy a story leave comments when you visit. Writers love feedback almost as much as chocolate. Maybe more! Then go tell your friends to read it too. Help these writers grow.

You can subscribe to the #fridayflash hashtag on Twitter every week for more great flash fiction.

We're on Facebook too.
~jon

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Related Link
The #fridayflash Archive - Check out previous reports to find stories from your favorite authors. Updated weekly.
~jon

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Permalink 11 comments

Organics

Lee Wen considered his options. Neither of them were good.

He was in no hurry as he walked through the park toward the tram station. No point in rushing anywhere, anymore. His sixtieth birthday, coming next Tuesday, marked the end of his career and all the benefits that came with it. No more housing. No more rations. No access to the tram, not that he'd have anyplace to go or anyone to see. Certainly no one would see him.

Since losing contact with Earth, and the critical supply ships that kept the colony thriving, draconian measures were implemented. The furor these caused at the time was met with a harsh response by the Governor's security force. New mandates were established: strict rationing of food and water, severe energy conservation, mandatory retirement at sixty, and rigorous reprocessing of all organics.

All organics.

Retirees were given two options. They could report to Hospice for end-of-life care, six months of pampered life and leisure before donating themselves to society; or they could beg on the streets. Beggars generally lasted about six weeks – six miserable weeks before usually committing suicide. Then their bodies would be collected for reprocessing. Even the Governor admitted it was harsh, but the very survival of First City was at stake.

Lee Wen needed to make a decision.

Lee had a small hoard of rations stored up, hidden behind an access panel in his living unit. He could perhaps make it last two months, with careful planning. He was convinced he could survive on the streets. A few did, after all.

Lin Chi was still around. She retired at least three years ago. He often saw her at Citizen's Park begging for food and scraps of material. Nearly everyone refused to even acknowledge her existence.

He ran into Lin about a month after she retired. He was not really watching where he was going, or he would have avoided her. But then suddenly there she was, standing right in front of him, smiling broadly just as she always did at the office. Her face quickly changed from joy to deep sorrow when he averted his eyes and quickened his pace. He always felt guilty about that, but was relieved that she never approached him since.

That is why most people choose Hospice, he decided. It's not the harshness of life on the street. It's being ostracized by everyone you ever knew. That would be hard to take.

It was already beginning. Within the last month or so people in the office started to distance themselves. Younger workers openly ogled his workstation, with its window view. His neighbors no longer waved when they saw him coming or going. While his credits were still welcome at the storehouse, and the staff there remained bright and friendly, next Tuesday his balance would evaporate and his ID would no longer open doors – except at the Hospice. The future was not bright.

He turned the corner and once again came face to face with Lin Chi. He felt the blood drain from his face and a sudden lump form in his stomach. Then, to his surprise, she smiled, just like she used to in the office, and there was a lively twinkle in her eye.

“Hello, Lee.”

“Lin.” He felt damned awkward. Here stood a woman he had once dismissed as a nonentity, smiling at him as if nothing had happened. “I, that is, it's good to see you.”

“It's good to see you too.” She turned, and started walking away, then beckoned for him to follow. When he hesitated she jerked her head in the direction she wanted to go and invited him to walk along with her. Somewhat perplexed, he fell into step with her.

“So, you retire next Tuesday.” She did not look at him. She walked slowly, almost at leisure, but constantly scanned their surroundings, as if on guard.

“Yes, that's right.” He noticed that others on the sidewalk cut them a wide path. No one looked at them.

“Have you decided what you are going to do?”

He looked at her, but she did not look up.

“Well, I sure as hell am not going to go gently into the night.”

Now she stopped, and turned toward him, smiled and patted his arm in a friendly manner. “Oh, I am so glad to hear that.” She began walking again.

“Listen, Lin. I want to apologize.”

“No need. We've all done it. We all feel guilty. Believe me, one gets used to it.”

“Still, I feel terrible for the way I...” They walked on in silence for a bit. “Tell me, how do you survive?”

She smiled again. “There is a third way.”

“I beg your pardon?”

She stopped and lowered her voice. “I came to invite you to join us. We have a settlement, not far from First City. Nothing glorious, but we survive. We are self sufficient.”

Lee was stunned.

“I won't ask twice. If you would like to join us, take the tram out to Landing Station next Tuesday morning. Bring everything you can carry. Someone will meet you.”

“What? I don't understand.”

“We need a design engineer. You are welcome to join us. Or we'll wait for Dak Ho to retire in six months. I'd rather have you.” She patted him on the arm again, then abruptly turned and walked briskly away.

On Tuesday morning he stepped off the tram at Landing Station, carrying two large satchels. Lin Chi was waiting for him.

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© 2009 by Jon M. Strother. All rights reserved.

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A Belated Thank You

I'm not exactly know for being punctual. Archon, the St. Louis area science fiction convention, was more than a week ago. I intended to do a little write up but things got kind of hectic. Once back from the convention I needed to catch up on reading flash fiction posted under the #fridayflash meme, and entertain out of town guests. Suffice to say I let my Archon musings slide through the cracks.

Still, there is one thing I don't want to let slide.

I participated, not for the first time, in the Archon Amateur Writer's Contest. I did not win the contest, but I still want to give a tip of the hat to the three judges who came to the con and made themselves available for the story critique session. Not only did they take the time to read and rate each story in the weeks before the convention, they also marked up the stories, pointing out areas that needed development as well as things that worked particularly well. Then, at the convention itself, they came to the critique session to give us all direct feedback and encouragement.

So a big thank you to Angie Fox, Haley Elizabeth Garwood, and Jon Klement (a fellow who knows how to spell Jon!) for the time and effort you all took to help the eleven of us along our road towards publication. Thanks also to the Archon committee for hosting another great competition. Finally, congratulations to the winning author (alas, I did not catch your name) for your winning story, Walkie Talkie. Looking forward to next year.

Photo by J. M. Strother.
This guy won Best Use of Fur in the Masquerade.
~jon

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The #fridayflash Report

It looks like we had around sixty-three stories this week. I always seem to miss a few, thus the fuzzy math. If I left you out let me know. I struggled on whether or not to include a couple of them, as they are from people with protected Twitter accounts. I don't want to intrude on anyone's privacy, so I left them out. I'm trying to contact them to see if they would like to be added. So stay tuned. The list may end up reflecting the number before long.

Some people asked me if it was OK to post a previously posted or published story. Sure. As long as it's yours and you have the rights to it I don't care how old it is. The idea is to showcase your work. Tweet away.

I also don't care if you post more than one story a week. Ten or fifteen would get a little annoying, but if you want to show off something old, something new, go for it. Just nothing borrowed. Blue is OK too.

I've been toying with a "Best Of" anthology. There are a few other people who have also expressed an interest in that, or something similar. Any thoughts? Would any of you be interested in participating in a Best Of #fridayfalsh anthology?

OK, now for what you are really here for. Ladies and gents, I give you this week's flash:

4:45, by Tony Noland @TonyNoland

A Child and The Musician, by C. A. Beninati @beninati

A Family Kerfuffle, by Michelle D. Evans @MichelleDEvans

A Hell of a Job, by ganymeder @ganymeder

A routine night at Roonies, by Karen Schindler via email

A Very Final Solution, by Avery Tingle @IronMan1176

A Word of Advice, by Barb Relyea via email

An Evening Encounter, by Lauren Cude via Facebook

Baby on Board, by Hazel Gaynor @hotcrossmum

Burnt, by Emma Newman @EmApocalyptic

Conflict of Interest, by P.J. Kaiser @Doublelattemama

Consumed by the Moon Man, by Jeff Posey @AnasaziStories

Crazy Jane's Dream, by Laura Packer @storylaura

Dead.Again. by Michael Solenderby @mjsolender

Dental Check, by Lily Mulholland @CascadeLily

Different Perceptions, by Eric Krause @ericjkrause

Dream Fulfillment, by E. D. Johnson @geektreasure

Dreaming Lies to Change the Truth by Kaolin Fire @kaolinfire

Eviction Notice, by Dan Faust (protected account, listed by permission)

Frankie's Girl, by Carrie Cleaver @shadowsinstone

Friends Like These, by Gary Harmon @Gary_Harmon

Graveyard Tales, by Laura Eno @lauraeno

Goodbye, by Tomara Armstrong @2maraA

H, by Paul Brazill @paulbrazill

Home Sweet Home, by techtigger @techtigger

In Which Expectations May Differ Slightly, by Kate Sherrod @KateSherrod

Indulgence, by Marisa Birns @marisabirns

It Pays To Do Research, by J. M. Strother @jmstro

Justice For Cody, by April L. Hamilton @indieauthor

Kinetic, by Sayer @Sayer

Late Bloomer, by Maria Protopapadaki-Smith @mazzz_in_Leeds

Mass Extinction, by Patty Jansen @pattyjansen

Memories of Feet, by David Masters @davidmasters

Milking 101, by Daniel Warskow @bookwook

No Militaries in the Gay, by John Wiswell @Wiswell

Not A-Mused, by Tim VanSant @TimVanSant

Not Today, by Jim Wisneski @Wisneski

One for Sorrow, by Kevin J. Mackey @kevinjmackey

Outsourced, by Shannon Esposito @soesposito

Perfect Day, by Linda Simoni-Wastila @drwasy

Pre-Wedding Tension, by Dan Powell @danpowfiction

Real Estate Purgatory, Alex Carrick @Alex_Carrick

Roadside Burials, by Al Bruno III @AlBruno3

The Rosetta Stone, by anniegirl1138 @anniegirl1138

Sideswiped by Jesus, by Cecilia Dominic @RandomOenophile

Snatches of Life in Colour, by Clive Martyn @CliveM

The Backstreet Berlin Brawl, by Chance @Chance4321

The case of... - Found, Anthony Deaver by @AnthonyDeaver

The Dreamer, by Jennifer Derfoldy @jenni_fleur

The Escape Artist, by Mark Kerstetter @markerstetter

The Fable of the Starfish, by Barry Northern @BarryNorthern

The Hunted, by Chris Chartrand @ChrisChartrand

The Numbing Effect, by Sarah Joyce Bryant @thenightwriter

The Pizza Guy, by T.J. McIntyre @southernweirdo

The Tragic Fate of Armani Claudius, by Lionel Braud @ltrain75

Three points for the Devil, by Susan J. Cross @SusanJCross

Trinity, by Sumit Dam @sumitsays

Tumbling, by Rachel Blackbirdsong @RBlackbirdsong

Waiting by the Window, by Laurita Miller @LauritaMiller

Worms Matter, by Stephen Parolini @noveldoctor

You Can't Get There From Here, by Al Bruno III @AlBruno3

You Have Been Replaced, by Elizabeth Ditty @ditty1013

I'd like to once again thank all our readers. We love you. And please, if you enjoy a story leave comments when you visit. Writers love feedback almost as much as coffee, or chocolate even. Then go tell your friends to read it too. Help these writers grow.

You can subscribe to the #fridayflash hashtag on Twitter every week for more great flash fiction.

We're on Facebook too.
~jon

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Related Link
The #fridayflash Archive - Check out previous reports to find stories from your favorite authors. Updated weekly.
~jon

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Permalink 10 comments

It Pays To Do Research

“The title search came back fine.”

“But?”

“Oh, nothing... really.” He fumbled with some papers. “It's just gone through a number of owners.”

“What, is it haunted?”

He laughed at that. “It's a good deal, Jack. You can't find a big Victorian at this price. Not in this town. Now that's a fact. Anything else is just talk.”

“I'll think about it, Henry.” I promised I'd get back to him.

I went directly to the library. And there was always the local Historical Society.


“$145,000. That's my final offer.”

“145!” Henry laughed out loud. But I knew I had him.

“That house is haunted, Henry.”

“Now where'd you hear such nonsense, Jack?”

I dropped the folder on his desk. The grin left his face as he flipped through the articles and coroner reports. “Henry, you'd be lucky to give that house away.”

“That's bull. This house is a steal at 175, and you know it.”

I collected my folder. “145, Henry. Call me if you change your mind.”

He called.


It was a steal at 175, and an even better deal at what I paid. But it certainly seemed to be haunted. There were lots of small unexplained annoyances. Furniture never stayed put. I'd find the claw-footed bathtub full of hot water in the middle of the night. Still, I persisted, for I am not afraid of ghosts.

One night, about two weeks on, I heard noises downstairs. I grabbed a heavy stave I kept near the bed, and crept to the stairs. “Who's there? I've got a gun!” I lied.

There was a skittering sound, almost like a dog scrabbling across a linoleum floor. 'Probably just kids.' I descended the stairs as quietly as I could. The third step from the bottom creaked when I stepped on it. The noises stopped, throwing the house into total silence.

There were more skittering noises as I made my way towards the kitchen. “If you kids don't scat, you'll be sorry!” The basement door slammed as I entered the room. “Okay! I warned you!”

I yanked the door open. There was no one there. I flipped the basement light switch. The lights did not work. It figured. I gripped my cudgel and went down anyway.

It was fairly dark, but street lighting came through the four small windows. The light cast stark shadows in which anything could be hiding. I was halfway across the basement when something started taking shape near the furnace. Slowly, it took on the form of a man.

He looked to be dressed in mid-nineteenth century attire. He bore an uncanny resemblance to the original owner. Except for the oddly twisted neck, he looked just like the man in the Historical Society photos.

“You better get out of here!” I brandished my club.

He roared with laughter.

I backed away, which emboldened him. It was obvious that I would not make it to the stairs. Quite suddenly he rushed forward, hand reaching for my chest, intending to stop my heart. I dropped the staff and grabbed for his arm.

His look of surprise was precious. He glared at his wrist, which I firmly held. “What is this?” he raged.

“It's time for you to go.”

The wail of his passing added to the rush that flowed into me.

I was only dimly aware that the Police had arrived. Loud banging on the front door roused me from my ecstasy. I ran upstairs, disheveling my hair as I went. I gave them my best wide eyed look as I opened the door.

“We had a report of a scream from this house.”

I stepped aside as if to let them in. “I saw a ghost!”

The lead officer gave his partner a knowing look.

“Anyone hurt?”

“No.”

“Sorry, buddy. We don't do ghosts.”

“That's... that's okay.” I stammered as they turned away. I closed the door and smiled. “I do.”

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© 2009 by Jon M. Strother. All rights reserved.

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Permalink 25 comments

The #fridayflash Report

At least 63 stories this week. Great turn out and wonderful work. What a terrific group of writers we have. Let me know if I missed your story. I always miss someone (even my own!). :o This was done pretty hastily, so let me know if I've messed up any links.

4 Lost Men, by Amanda Scotney @rasplemjelly

A Bottle of Spirits, by Shannon Esposito @soesposito

A Handful Of Bugs, by Al Bruno III @AlBruno3

A Reservoir Dog, by Lily Mulholland @CascadeLily

Aeolus, by Ganymede @ganymeder

B is for Blank, by randilin @randilin

Bite, by Chris Lynch, by @chrislynch_mwm

Blink of an Eye, by Clive Martyn @CliveM

Borrowed Time, by TheBusyMystic @TheBusyMystic

Boundaries, by April L. Hamilton @indieauthor

Day 8, by Chance @Chance4321

Deadly Spider Monkeys, by Chris Lynch @chrislynch_mwm

Dignity, by Monica @MonicaEmme

Enter the Grim, by techtigger @techtigger

Evening on the Lake, by Kevin J. Mackey @kevinjmackey

Extinguished, by Laurita Miller @LauritaMiller

Fictional Character, by Gary Harmon @Gary_Harmon

Five Hundred Franks, by Tony Noland @TonyNoland

Gentle Giant, by Karen Schindler via email

Harbinger, by Gloria Oliver @GloriaOliver

I Was A Teenage Romeo, by Chris Chartrand @ChrisChartrand

I/O Error, by Sumit Dam @sumitsays

In the Sinister Lair of Dr. Heisenburg, by Dana @ywgdana

Just Another Day, by Lauren Cude via Facebook

Let Go, by Marisa Birns @marisabirns

Making Amends After the War, by Christine Love @christinelove

Malingering, by Joseph Paul Haines @josephhaines

North On The Yellowhead, by Donna Carrick @Donna_Carrick

On The Shore, by Deirdre Murphy @Wyld_Dandelyon

Parousia, by Jennifer Jones @jentropy

Puma and Jaguar Save the Planet, by Maria Protopapadaki-Smith @mazzz_in_Leeds

Quentin, by Paul D. Brazill @paulbrazill

Question, by Mark Kerstetter @markerstetter

Rabid, by Jodi MacArthur @JodiMacArthur

Reliable Photographer, by John Wiswell @Wiswell

Rhiannon's Glade, by Barry Northern @BarryNorthern

Sandstorm, Carrie Cleaver @shadowsinstone

Side of a Bullet, by E. D. Johnson @geektreasure

Small Comforts, by Trevor Mcpherson @3S_stories

Smile, by Dan Powell @danpowfiction

Soulless, by T.J. McIntyre @southernweirdo

Still Eight, by Stephen Parolini @noveldoctor

Stumbling, by Rachel Blackbirdsong @RBlackbirdsong

Sudden Standards, by Matthew Glenn Ward @MattWardWriter

The Apple Tree, by Jim Wisneski @Wisneski

The Book, by Leigh Barlow @LeighBarlow

The Bronze Head, by Elizabeth Ditty @ditty1013

The case of..., by Anthony Deaver @AnthonyDeaver

The Chase Begins, by Jeff Posey @AnasaziStories

The Chosen One, by Eric Krause @ericjkrause

The Escape, by P.J. Kaiser @Doublelattemama

The Fable of the Peacock, by Barry Northern @BarryNorthern

The Family Stew, by Ryan Harron @rharron

The Lonely Man, by Chad Beninati @beninati

The Mystery Writer, by Tim VanSant @TimVanSant

The Seagull Poet of Butter Bay, by Alex Carrick @Alex_Carrick

This Seat Taken?, by J. M. Strother @jmstro

The Sum of His Deeds, by Michael Solender @mjsolender

untitled, by KayAnna Kirby @KayAnnaKirby

We All Travel, by Laura Eno @lauraeno

when i refuse the lithium, by Linda Simoni-Wastila @drwasy

You Can Call Me Al, by netta50 @netta50

Yours, by unlikelyeden @unlikelyeden

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This Seat Taken?

She stiffened when she saw him spot the empty seat beside her. Actually, it was just mostly empty. A small boutique bag occupied it, her signal to the world that yes, this seat is taken. But she knew from where he stood, near the doors, he could not see her bag. Dammit if he wasn't working his way back through the crowded car of the 6:15, apparently intent on sitting there. Her right hand drifted down, and shoved the bag out just a wee bit more, to make the claim more obvious.

It would be different if he wasn't so... gross. The guy was massive, dressed in grimy jeans and a T. Obvious sweat stains radiated from his arm pits. As he got closer she could see his shoes, dun colored work boots, spattered with something, obviously in desperate need of a trash can. She turned her full attention to her book, determined not to look up.

“This seat taken?”

She pretended not to hear.

He turned, positioned himself, and started to lower his butt towards the edge of the seat. “You mind?”

She shot him a nasty look, grabbed her bag, and nestled it on the floor next to her other bag. “Be my guest.”

If he recognized sarcasm he gave no indication. Figures. Too stupid to know it when he heard it.

“Thanks.” He settled in, taking up as much room as a 1.5 adult male does. He stank. “I'm beat. Been hauling mortar all day, and the heat's a bitc... It's a scorcher. Putting up Hancock tower, downtown.”

Her eyes remained fixed on the book. She read the same sentence for the third time.

“What'cha reading?”

She finally looked up at him, flipped the book cover towards him, forced a smile. “It's a romance. You wouldn't like it.”

“You got that right.”

Her eyes were already back on the page.

“You need an iPod.”

She scowled at him. “What?”

“Better for shutting out other people.” He did a quarter turn away from her and struck up a conversation with the guy standing next to him. Something stupid, like sports statistics.

There was a sudden metallic screeching. The the car rocked violently, first one way, then the other. The big oaf fell into her. Then they lurched the other way, causing her to crash into him. Her chin rammed into his back, driving her teeth together in a painful snap. People screamed as the car tumbled in it's death roll.

Pain seared through her: her mouth, her left arm, her left foot. She was knocked loopy when her head banged against the sidewall of the car, or the sidewall of the car collapsed inward towards her head. Everything was completely askew. It took a while to realize that people were climbing up the seats, from the front of the car towards the back, as if the seats were ladders. It was complete pandemonium. She was only vaguely aware that water was also climbing the seats towards her.

She heard someone screaming about the rear doors, yet no one seemed to be leaving. Get off of me! She shoved people away as they clawed their way upwards.

The big oaf stood up on the back of the fore seat, grabbed the overhead bar, and drove both feet into the window just in front of her. Once. Twice. It popped out with a bang on the third try. People immediately began pressing towards them, threatening to crush her.

“One at a time!” He decked a guy trying to wedge his way in. “We'll all get out of here. Don't panic.” He began shoving people through the gaping maw. The first few stopped dead in place, stricken anew.

“Keep moving!”

“We're in the river!”

He rose half way out. There were two loud splashes, then he was back inside, shoving people through the hole, ones and twos at a time. She got stepped on repeatedly.

He shoved the last of the able-bodied up and told them to hold pat. Then he began assisting the injured up towards the opening, or down, depending on where he found them. On his third pass he noticed her again. “You still here?”

“My foot!” She pointed to where her left foot was firmly wedged between the seat strut and the outer wall.

“Damn!” He bent and tried to pull it free. She forced herself not to scream in pain. “That hurt? She nodded. “Double damn!”

Again he held the overhead bar and stomped with both feet, this time on the back of the offending seat. He did it again, and again, seemingly to no avail. But the struts gave, bit by bit. At last she pulled her foot out of her shoe. It flopped about, like a broken doll's. She screamed, both from joy and pain. Without further ado he grabbed her and hoisted her out to waiting hands. She turned to reach for him just as the car gave one last twist. She saw his eyes go big and round as she was thrown into the water.

“There's a man in there! There's a man in there!” She kept screaming to the water patrol as they wrapped her in a blanket. “You've got to get him!” She started beating the poor guy on the chest with her good hand when the boat turned for shore.

Ashore, emergency crews did their best at triage. She was put into Group B, non-life-threatening injuries, and given another blanket. The fireman who immobilized her foot sympathized about her friend, whom she kept wailing about, before moving on. She curled into a fetal ball and wept.

She became aware of someone standing next to her. Through her tears she saw dun colored work boots in desperate need of a trash can.

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© 2009 by Jon M. Strother. All rights reserved.

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