Monday, April 27, 2020
Flash Fiction: I Hope You Understand
Sunday, April 26, 2020
Short Story: Missing Moon
The two of you first met at your darkest moments.
Two different people from two different worlds. Together, your own perfect sanctuary, even though you could only meet for a few brief moments at a time. You cherished each other, and held onto that love during your days apart.
Your name is Terrence Solet. Hers is Lunomi.
On the way to your monthly meeting place, you think back to when you first met, all those years ago when you were both young and afraid.
The grief of losing your mother, the last of your family, inspired an escape from the modern world and all suffocating grip it had on your life. Man isn’t meant to live in a filthy metropolitan, you thought to yourself as you drove out to nowhere. You managed to convince yourself a return to nature was the best cure for the pain in your heart. The Solet family you so cherished often brought you on their excursions to snow-capped mountains or thick coniferous forests every other month or so. You would collect leaves and pinecones or search for the signs of woodland creature, fancying yourself some kind of tracker or ranger.
Each journey there served as a reminder of the beauty of the world, apart from the rabble, bustle and hustle. You should have taken your parents on such a journey during their twilight years, but there was never time after your graduation. It was a new stage of life where one must establish oneself in the adult world or be left in the dust. Not wanting to disappoint your parents or family, you dedicated yourself to your work at the cost of all else. Good parents deserve an even better son, you reasoned, but what has all that effort brought you?
As your mother’s coffin was lowered into the earth, you could see Terrence Solet as just another empty suit, missing a heart and a purpose. You needed change. At the edge of a newer stage of life, you needed another reminder of nature and what it meant, hopefully finding a better way forward at the end.
As you entered the forest, you had nothing but the clothes on your back, but that was all you could need. A jacket, denim jeans, hiking shoes, and a backpack filled with nuts, water and supplies. A few days to think and meditate on loss and acceptance. Enough time away from the desk job and absurd responsibilities. As the last Solet, this was your escape.
Lunomi wanted to escape too, but her circumstances were more different and much more dangerous than Terrence could imagine.
Since she was born, she held control of some kind of dark fire. From her hands, it ignited, but it never burned her. The fire glowed with a purplish hue and an intense luminous white shined from its center.
She never knew what this fire was or why she could manipulate it so skillfully. She did know that she was kept in a large white temple because of it, but whether that was caretaking or imprisonment she would find out on her own.
In that temple, all Lunomi ever knew was black and white. White rooms. Black knights. A great white-rock landscape. A black sky. Men and women in robes of pure white. An endless ebony void with white lights dotted across it. The days spent in endless meditation and practice with her dark fire, at the watch and instruction of figures of white robes. Black knights followed her every step, which kept the robed ones at ease but constantly left Lunomi on edge, feeling as if they’d point their silver blades at her in any moment.
As a child, she accepted such things as permanent fixtures of her life, but as she grew older, a great curiosity took hold of her heart and mind. The black knights and people in white robes told her to be afraid of it, but Lunomi sought to follow it and know more.
Like her dark fire, her curiosity grew and grew. No one but her could control it, and it felt exhilarating.
One day she escaped the temple, using her fire to launch herself and fly across the white land she and her people called home. Lunomi travelled a great distance, not knowing where she’d go and what she’d find but still exhilarated by the wildness of freedom within the unknown.
She spent days outside, avoiding patrols and capture. Her fire turned out to be a wonderful deterrent for black knights instead of something the temple authorities fawned over. Then, on a day unlike anything else, she made her greatest discovery. A sphere of brilliant blue and verdant green. Fluffy white spirals and blankets floating along the surface of it, moving inch by inch. Lunomi fell to her knees in awe of such a glorious world. Closing her eyes and tightly clasping her hands together, she prayed, and then wished she could go there.
And then she did.
You were sleeping in your poorly made tent when she made landfall and shook the earth. No one else came with you to the forest. You made sure to situate yourself in an isolated area too. So the obvious conclusion when you woke with such a startle was some kind of beast or explosion or exploding beast. Outside of the tent, you see a moonbeam shining down on a small mountain just a mile away.
As a Solet, you came out here to find some way to change. What better way to do so then going out to where the ground shakes. The best decision is to run towards it.
Out of breath, you make it to the top of the hill. You find a girl lying in a crater. Her hair and skin is white as snow, and her body glows with a faint white light. She’s dressed in a shimmering silver coat with patterns that shift and transform with her every movement. Small purple flames sputter out at the crater’s edge.
She lifts her head and your eyes meet. She’s beautiful.
You introduce yourself as Terrence Solet. She says her name is Lunomi.
The both of you start talking. You share your life and she shares her. In the span of a night, the two of you fall in love. The sun starts to rise and Lunomi starts to fade away. She explains she must return to the moon, but she wants to see you again. You want the same thing. On this hill in the middle of a forest, a man from earth and a woman from the moon make a promise. From there, a tradition is set.
Years pass. You present is better than your past. The work you do is more fulfilling, and you have all the time you need to write and paint. Lunomi traverses the moon, flying without a care as the temple authorities chase after her. With love and a little support, your lives are better and more fulfilled. Anything is impossible.
Every month that love is rekindled as the two of you meet again on full moon days. Life becomes even greater.
Today, you trek up the hill, and there she is, radiant and full. Like you, she waits for these days, and she’s so relieved when you get another day together. You both smile and take each other’s hand for this brief moment of romance, white morning-glories in full bloom surround you.
Walking down the hill, you catch one another up of the goings-on in your respective worlds. You tell her stories about the city, where she wishes she could be. While your mundane stories somehow make her envious, her stories about the moon never fail to amaze you. She tells you memories of her new life. The shadow of a coming conflict seems to darken her thoughts, but you let her know their is nothing to fear. With two people so peculiar, a forest walk at night can be the most romantic thing of all.
You love her. She loves you.
You looked for clarity in a world gone dark. She searched for meaning cause her world lost its own.
Instead you found each other. Thankfully, it was more than enough.
She is so different from you and you are likewise for her, yet somehow that love remains the same, even when time and distance tests its resolve.
She tells you more stories. You tell a joke. You share a laugh. One of you cries. One shares their fear but the other responds with hope. Both of you, happy in the end.
However, like all of these days, it must end. The sun starts to peek out. You must leave one another. She rises into the chill dawn sky and you walk all the way home. In such a small time, the two of you know when to share goodbyes. This day however, you share them through a kiss, one that lingers until the next day you meet.
All that walking wears your hiking shoes out, but you don’t care. The earth and the city beneath seeks to drag you down but the possibility of another moment with her drives you. An inner strength is constantly rediscovered. Damn the weaknesses that the others treated like your shackles.
Glorious moonbeams reaching across that significant distance. She is carried by the light, in betrayal of the rules she refuses to follow. A devotion to something more feeds her defiance. Her superiors had their own designs for her, but she wanted no part of it. To love is more rewarding than to fight.
You both go a long way to see each other, and it is worth every pain, every scolding, to get there. One love connected by a shared heaven forever at risk of becoming another battlefield. The two of them pray that a fight will not come to pass. They hope no barrier can be built to keep them apart.
A new month comes. The next day to meet arrives.
Now, here you are. Alone, wondering where she is, afraid for where she went. The flowers remain as mere buds. Nothing glows on this hilltop. Smog and ash blanket the heavens. The sky is not clear anymore.
There’s now an emptiness where your love would be. There’s a darkness where the moon should be.
You were Terrence Solet. She was Lunomi.
Friday, April 10, 2020
Flash Fiction: Hollywood Flash
It’s also so very, very hot.
I’ve run myself ragged, bringing myself here.
“You need to put yourself out there, to the public,” I said to myself. “You’ll never truly know how to act unless you drag yourself out of your room and force yourself into the herd.” I might have imagined that last part.
Now, at the busiest street in Los Angeles, it seems that I have forgotten what I was going to do in the first place. I did not bring my camera or a book to read while sitting in the shade. There is no productivity to be found in this moment. Am I meant to just start conversations with any of the strangers here? There’s no way I can do that. Most of them are not my age and they do not seem to be the kind sort of people. The rest are just tourists, foreign tourists at that.
I could attend an attraction, like the wax museum, but tickets for that can disrupt anyone’s stable income. Not to mention that the only thing creepier than a wax museum is a guy spending time alone in a wax museum. No one normal would think taking a selfie with Marilyn Monroe is an activity worth seeking out.
Maybe I could do some homework at one of the cafes. But then I would need to buy something and suffer through exchanges with needling waitresses, when I would rather be left alone. I also forgot to bring my laptop, so that idea is already caput.
I have truly abandoned myself here, getting pushed around by tides of local wannabes. They say that the only one who can overcome my shyness, my introverted tendencies, is myself, but through constant trial and error, it is proven that I am the least equipped to overcome anything.
No matter how uncomfortable I am, or how much I want to return home, I will remain on Hollywood Boulevard for the entire day, walking back and forth until sunset and bedtime. I am already tired of it all.
The worst part?
It’s only been ten minutes since I’ve arrived.
Days spent outside are so very, very long.
Maybe I should buy a souvenir. Like a fake award to reward myself for at least trying.
It will shine a false gold, arms folded into itself, just standing up for being itself.
Flash Fiction: This Statue Goes To
Screenwriting was the category, the most important, yet least appreciated, part of the filmmaking process, at least from my experience. I wrote a screenplay, an original, thank god, that an old friend of mine liked. He passed it on to one of his other old friends, who then went to another old friend. Then that old friend gave it to a director who convinced one of the big time producers to make a movie out of it. There were some edits to the script and a lot of improvisation during the actual movie, but it was still my name on the paper. A good enough name to be projected onto a big screen in front of the most prestigious and connected in Hollywood.
Now I’m here. At least I got some credit for my work, for once. Everyone I know just goes for directing.
Whether they are acting, editing, catering, or playing with their own, cheap, camcorder cameras, people want to be the big man in the chair. Never the guy in front of the computer, or the typewriter if you are just that old.
I don’t blame them, really. That is just how life goes, but it does get lonely when you have nobody to talk to about the craft of clacking keyed letters into something profound or facetious, depending on the kind of script you’re writing.
For the winner comes some recognition for the work they put in so far, as well as the pathway for future jobs from those who want a writer for a guide to artistic acclaim. For the losers, it is back to the writing salt mines. Back to the obscurity and the endless networking and emails, just for the chance of getting nominated again.
That script did take five years to complete, after all. One of my first stories. The one I felt the most passion for when I first started my career in writing. It would be nice.
My shelves have also been feeling very empty these past few weeks. They could use a golden statue to brighten things up.
The two presenters share a joke I can’t laugh at. One of them breaks the wax seal and holds the letter up for the other to read. There is a moment of suspense, a smile on the presenter’s lips as she rises up to declare the winner.
And the award... Does not go to me.
Better luck next time, I guess.
This was fun.
Hours pass. I walk home, after congratulating the other winners of course, thinking about what I should write next.
Ideas are already bubbling up from my mind. For the first time tonight, this is the best I’ve ever felt.
Flash Fiction: Goldfish
Have I got the movie for you.
The next big thing!
It’s got action, romance, and explosions with the very best actors and actresses working in Hollywood today. You know that one handsome devil? The sexy actress you dream of every night? This film has them and more acting ‘till they’re sore.
How did we get them? We pitched the script to them. It would boost their careers. Offered them a huge paycheck. We did it all! And my how it paid off.
For those more auteur-driven types, the man leading this astounding cast, directing each cog and machine in perfect harmony to bring you this spectacle is the man. He’s an award winner and a heart stealer! Tarantino, Waititi, Spielberg, Kubrick, Hitchcock, Scorsese, Coppola. They have nothing on this guy.
He’ll be your new favorite director if you haven’t heard of him, and your film god if you have!
And the genre? Oh boy the genre is a doozy.
Imagine the wildest story you are capable of, anchored by the most human of humanist storytelling and the most funny/ tragic/heroic/villainous characters to ever be funny/tragic/ heroic/villainous. It is an epic fiction of fantasy that not even science can properly replicate, a drama to end all previous dramas and all future dramas.
It is a story filled with heartbreak and love, beginnings humble and historic, endings both happy and bad.
No matter taste or preference, believe me when I say that this film has it. It will have every “it” you can possibly imagine.
Kids will shriek with laughter. The elderly will cry in despair. Teens will talk about it over sports games and car rides. Adults will write essays and think pieces about how wonderful it is.
This is not just a movie, it is a call to action! It is THE movie. Seeing it is a task everyone must complete. It will be irresponsible to not see it. See it or remain a disappointment to your loved ones for the rest of your life.
You’ll condemn its violence, you’ll celebrate its empathy! You’ll decry its message, you’ll celebrate its meaning!
This movie is everything. It will have everything! Toys, comics, tie-in novels, podcasts, songs, candy! There will be White House screenings no matter the party or politics! I bet it will have themed Happy Meals in every restaurant, from fast food to Mexican!
It will be the next big thing, and I challenge any one of you to prove me otherwise.
Now, to tell you what this movie is about— Wait...
Out there in the distance...
Is that...
Holy shit! A new thing! Guys! Guys!
Would you look at that!?
Oh wow! It is!
Flash Fiction: The Fighting Tides
They fight for their lives. What can I fight for?