So, I follow this crazy guy named Chuck Wendig, whose blog is called terribleminds. Besides being a total wack-a-doodle with a major potty mouth, he’s also a pretty darn good writer. Read his fiction for a rollicking profanity-laced escape, or his non-fiction for helpful writing tips in between imaginative (and often disturbing) invectives. You’ll probably need to go to confession afterwards, though.
Anyway, he posted a flash fiction writing challenge last week. The idea is to generate a random title using dice or a random number generator and then write a story to match the title. It’s been so long since I played with my gaming dice, I had to do it just for the excuse to dig them out and roll them across my desktop. That, and I’m trying to find ways to dig out of my rut step out of my comfort zone and challenge my skills. So I decided to take on the task.
The random title that came up was “Flight of the God.” I was quite unimpressed with that one. I had hoped to get something colorful that might spark something, but I’m not one of those people who keeps rolling dice until I got the numbers I want, so I stuck it into the Mobius loop of a brain I have and let it fester for a few days. I came up with the first line and the last line pretty quickly. The rest kind of wrote itself.
Tell me what you think. And, yes, it’s pretty obvious now that I need to be on more medication.
Flight of the God
It all began when Harold declared the game over.
“You’re just pissed because you’re not winning.” I sighed, glaring at him as Bast rolled her green eyes in frustration.
“You’re cheating!” he growled. His eyes glowed redder than usual.
“How can we cheat when there are no rules?” Loki asked. He was perched on the back of the couch between Harold and Bast, cradling a bowl of popcorn in his lap. “It’s not our fault you have no imagination.”
“Everything has rules,” Harold sputtered. “Even chaos has rules. How can a game have no rules?”
Max – we called him that because Camaxtli was just too much – leaned forward in the wing-backed chair he always claimed as his own, his gaze intense, and gave Harold a smile that was more warning than support. “Think of it this way: having no rules IS the rule.”
“You’re not helping,” scowled Harold. His cologne smelled like sulfur and only got worse as he grew more agitated. Wrinkling her petite nose in distaste, Bast eased her slim form off the couch and slinked to the bar in the corner.
“Mebd, dear, remind me again why we invited him?” she purred, popping the top on a fresh beer.
I dropped my face into my hands and let loose a groan. “Because the boss said we all need to mingle more. Something about gaining new understanding and acceptance.”
“I think Harold’s a fine addition,” Loki grinned. He clapped the brooding hulk on the back. “He just needs to loosen up a bit. Bring him a beer, won’t you, Kitty?”
“You know I hate it when you call me that.” Pulling a couple more bottles out of the mini-frig, Bast casually strolled back to the couch, her almond-shaped eyes narrowing in silent threat as she handed over the beer. Loki only grinned larger.
“Maybe we should have started with something more normal,” Max ventured. “Risk, or Civilization, maybe.”
“Fizzbin,” said Loki, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Fizzbin would have been perfect.”
“That’s little better than Calvin-ball.” Bast returned to her favored spot on the couch, tucking her feet up beneath her. She always looked so regal, no matter how she moved or what she wore and it really annoyed me. “But I think Max is right. We should try something simpler. To help Harold get up to speed. He hasn’t been out much, so we should be more sympathetic.”
“You’re right,” I nodded. Glancing at the three of them sitting across from me, I couldn’t help but think the start of a good joke was there somewhere. “How about Risk? I have the Lord of the Rings version.”
“Oh! Dibs on the elves!” from Loki. “I’ll clear the table.” He rose to his bare feet and handed the popcorn to Harold. “Try some. It has real butter.”
Sullenly, Harold accepted the bowl and dug his ragged nails into the kernels.
It took me a while to figure out exactly what happened next, it all happened so fast. Loki had barely cleared the coffee table when a flock of white doves erupted from the bowl of popcorn, right into Harold’s face. I’ll never forget his expression. A mixture between horror and surprise and rage. In his line of work, I could almost understand.
The next thing I know, Harold had Loki by the scruff of the neck and his shorts and launched him out the nearest window. Didn’t even bother to open it first. We could hear Loki cackling all the way down to the rainbow bridge.
Harold stormed out, bits of skin sizzling from where the doves had touched him. He left quite the cloud of sulfur behind, and slammed the door so hard it broke off the hinges.
Max sighed and shook his head at me. “I warned Loki about initiating Harold. I told him to pass on this one.”
“Like Loki listens to anyone,” yawned Bast. She blinked at me, unfazed by the outburst. “So, Risk?”
I sighed and nodded, and went to retrieve the game from the hall closet.
Needless to say, that was the last time Harold came for gaming night. Demons just have no sense of humor.
© 2014 Cheri K. Endsley All Rights Reserved.
That was fun. Tony Stark would probably approve. 🙂
Thanks! 😉
Really neat. very alive and gave the whole picture by the 2nd or third sentence. I like the idea of random titles. Loosens up the brain, like aerobics or yoga or something. 🙂
Yeah, it’s brain calisthenics. Something I need to do more of. Thanks for the support!
Absolutely fun and well-written! Kept me smiling all the way through. Thanks!
I appreciate the kind words, and thanks for visiting! 😉
Anything that mentions Calvin-ball automatically wins! An enjoyably trippy story =)
Like you, I have been in a rut. All we can do is follow Chief Wiggum’s advice and ‘dig up!’ 😉
Glad you enjoyed it. And keep digging! 😉
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Thanks for the shout out!