Robin Camille Davis
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Flash Fiction Friday: Moment/us

March 26, 2009
Tags: et cetera

On Fridays, Crow, Caiti, Gabe, and I write short fiction pieces based on a chosen rule. We don't tell you the rule but rather encourage you to read all 4 shorties and take a gander yourself. Here is mine:


“Will you wait a moment?” he asked us. Motionless, we said, “Just a moment,” and he smiled and we noticed he had a gap between his front teeth and we piqued our eyebrows, repulsed. We said, “A moment has passed. Goodbye,” and with twin sets of curled lips we hooked our little fingers and did an about-face.

    “Will you wait for a few moments, then?” he begged us as he panted in his effort to match our pace. “Or maybe several, multiple, or numerous moments, will you wait numerous moments for me?” But we would not stop walking, our heels metronoming on the pavement. “Talk as we walk, then,” we murmured, “but we’re not stopping and talking. We will keep going.”

    He was so little, this man. He was short and a pink tongue flopped with each forceful exhale. Our pace quickened while his slowed. More and more of his visage disappeared from the corners of our eyes before he broke into a trot to catch up to us. “Speak,” we reminded him with duplicate curtness.

    “Where are you going?” he managed. Spittle glistened briefly, or it could have been sweat, we could not be sure. “Forward,” we answered. “When will you stop?” he asked. “When something stops us,” we rejoined. “Can I stop you?” “Try.” He darted forward and stood in our path, face defiant, but when we were nearly upon him he dashed aside with a grunt. “That would have stopped us eventually,” we informed him, then added, “at your expense, however.”

    He nodded and wiped his nose on his hand and wiped his hand on his shirt. Our speed plateaued and he seemed to reach some set point, too. Our six-foot footsteps sounded alternately disparate and in sync. Mostly his steps were the irregular ones. We supposed that our occasional synchronicity was therefore not genuine and that our ears were too imprecise to discern differently. It began to rain and it seemed the raindrops followed our example. Sometimes the water globules would fall erratically yet evenly. But once a minute or so the drops would synchronize their descent and the several subsequent megapulses of the rain would be intolerably loud. He covered his fat ears each time it happened and the fourth time he roared in pain, covering his face, his feet stuttered to a stop and he bent over double but we did not see what was wrong with him because he passed out of our periphery, while we continued.

I now invite you to read the fictions of Crow & Caiti & Gabe.