Feminist Flash Fiction

All Was Lost

2005-11-18T22:04:00.000-05:00

"No, no! Don't shut down the systems!"

"Sorry sweetie, but no coding after 5 on Fridays! We're going out on the town tonight with the girls from sales and marketing."

And with that, her carefully constructed plans for slowly leeching money from the bank's holdings were destroyed. Oh well. She would be back on Monday.

Tarjan

2005-11-18T21:44:00.000-05:00

"I wish that I might be a man with a man's philosophy, but I am but a woman, seeing with my heart rather than my head." [1]

"What utter rot," exclaimed Lady Greysome. Putting the book aside, she cut into her rare steak.

5,000 miles away, Lady Greysome feasted on the bloody flesh of her prey.

The Chase

2005-11-11T22:28:00.000-05:00

She quickly downshifted on the sharp turn, thinking, "I will outrun him!" But at the next curve he cut her off, jumped out of his vehicle, and ran up to her window, panting.

"Miss, you dropped this?"

"Thanks," she said sheepishly, taking her wallet from his hand and placing it on the seat beside her.

Divorce

2005-11-11T21:34:00.000-05:00

He woke from a deep, restful sleep. Since she had left two weeks ago, he had been sleeping well, better than he had in years. One person really could sleep like a king on a king-sized bed. With a contented sigh, he got up, and swore loudly. Damn bitch had taken his Pooh slippers.

Carrie's Hope

2005-11-10T22:32:00.000-05:00

Hopes were grim for the New York State Eastern Women's Champions. They were down by two, and coming up to bat in the bottom of the ninth. The fans sat quietly, unable to concede a loss with still three outs to go. Quickly, though, their luck fell further when Amanda grounded out and Tisha was bounced by a short fly. In hopes of missing the last depressing moments for the champs, some of the crowd filed out of the stadium.

But others were not giving up yet; they murmured among themselves that if Carrie had a chance to swing, they could win the game. That didn't seem likely though, with two outs behind them, and Anna and Susan on deck ahead of Carrie.

But suddenly fate was favoring the Eastern champs. Anna, a generally weak batter, was able to safely outrun her slow grounder down the first base line. Then, as luck would have it, Susan sent a double dropping into right-center, advancing Anna to third.

At last, the fans were on their feet. You could hear the hope in their cheers as they chanted Carrie's name. The applause came in waves behind mighty Carrie as she approached the plate. Carrie had no fear as she comfortably settled into her batting stance. She had a glimmer in her eye, carrying herself proudly and with confidence.

The pitcher leaned back, moved fluidly through her windmill motion, and fired her first pitch. Carrie let strike one pass, waiting for the perfect shot. When the second pitch appeared high and the umpire called it a strike, the anxious crowd broke out into angry booing. Carrie stepped back, adjusted her helmet, and stared down the pitcher. She rolled her shoulders, and moved back into position.

The pitcher fired the third pitch at Carrie. She paused, leaned into her pivot foot, and swung with all her might. The crack of the bat making contact immediately silenced the crowd, as they saw the ball rise with hope. All eyes watched as Carrie's hit drifted further up.

But fate would not grant the Eastern champs a win that day. All hopes had been with the heroine Carrie, but none could smile then as the ball landed firmly in the right fielder's mitt.

Red

2005-11-06T23:33:00.000-05:00

Leila placed the tester stick back in its clear plastic slot, and moved down the aisle to the next brand of lipsticks. She had yet to see anything that moved her to make a purchase.

Moisturous... is that even a word? she thought to herself, passing by the Revlon display. The next case was filled with a larger selection of identical tubes. Leila pulled out the green plastic sticks one by one and examined their shades.

Mulberry, Flushed, Pearl Blush... all too fluorescent pink. She thumbed quickly past the nudes and neutrals, those definitely wouldn't do. Roseberry, Poppy, Cherries Jubilee, Blind Date... closer, but still on the pink side. She knew none of the purplish tones would work; no Raisin, Sienna, or Dusk. No to Mocha, Vixen, or Chestnut, the brown shades seemed unnecessary in the plastic display of personal camouflage. Vintage Pink, no. Scarlet Rose... a possibility. Leila had come upon the true reds, and knew she was close to finding a match. Which would it be? Code Red, Jezebel or Red Desire? She twisted the cap off the Red Desire stick, and knew immediately that it would work.

Leila picked up eight of the Red Desire lipstick tubes and put them in her shopping basket.

**

Empty applicator tubes lay on the kitchen table. Leila cut the sticks into a large metal mixing bowl and crushed them into a paste with a rubber spatula, adding water when the mix seemed too dry.

Upstairs, she twisted the stopper into the bathtub drain and turned the faucet on. The hotter the better, Leila thought. Once the water neared the lip of the tub, she poured the mixture in. The color spread quickly through the clear water, creating a bloody fluid.

Leila undressed quickly, put her toes in the water and flinched. It was very hot. She stepped in, and carefully lowered herself into the water. She pulled the elastic out of her ponytail, spread her hair evenly down her back, and leaned back into the red liquid. Taking a deep breath, she pulled her head underwater.

**

Leila pulled the scarlet cape around her shoulders, bracing against the wind. It was chilly for October, even for the Northeast. At number 49, she climbed two stairs and stepped on the doormat. As she reached down to adjust the straps on her heeled boots, she saw her red hand in the patio light. She was still having a hard time seeing herself painted a deep, almost glistening red.

Leila rang the doorbell, and adjusted the horns in her red hair. She heard approaching footsteps and muffled music in the background.

A wizard, complete with hat and wand, opened the door. He smiled as Leila stepped into the foyer and helped her remove the cape. “Leila, it's good to see you,” he said, kissing her Red Desired cheek. “You are the third devil tonight! Come in, let me get you a drink.”

The Prophet

2005-11-06T20:21:00.000-05:00

In a small cave, halfway up the Mountain of Light, the Prophet sat cross-legged, eyes closed in deep meditation.

The Archangel Gabriel, deciding that circumstances were as auspicious as could be, revealed himself. The cave lit up with the radiance of his being.

“Read, O Prophet!” he said in the terrible voice the archangel community is renowned for.

“Who said that?” said the Prophet sharply. “Why is it so damn bright in here? And what's with the shouting?”

“I did, O Prophet. Gabriel, chosen messenger of the Most High. Apologies for my radiance. And my terrible voice. It is the nature of my kind.”

The Prophet squinted a little. Presently, a figure became visible through the glow.

“Ah yes, I see you now,” said the Prophet. “What is it that you wanted me to read?”

“Here it is. The Manifesto of the Most High. Congratulations, you've been chosen to bring His word to mankind.” Gabriel handed over a single page of bulleted items. “It's a précis draft at this point. The full version is still pending with the Bureau of Revelations.”

The Prophet reached for a pair of reading glasses.

“Let me see now. Universal human rights, ban racism, worship only the Most High, hmm, hmm, drive on the right side of the road, charity, no chain restaurants, hmm, hmm, life, veganism, social justice etc. etc. OK, this seems to be in order.”

“Excellent,” said Gabriel. “I leave you now to ponder upon His message. Take as long as necessary and summon me when you're ready. Farewell, O Prophet of the Most High.”

With that, he vanished.

The Prophet started studying the précis, and soon had a mild panic attack. Was humanity ready for the Manifesto of the Most High? Down there, at the base of the Mountain of Light, most people thought that disposable plates were a pretty cool idea, and wouldn't let women drive. How would they receive His message?

A frown creased the Prophet's brow. After some thought, the outline of an idea presented itself. Obviously, the job would have to be outsourced. To someone so straightforward, honest, likable, trustworthy and naïve that the people around the Mountain of Light would have no choice but to be convinced, even the ones who preferred paper plates over regular ones.

The Prophet could think of no one more suitable for the job than her husband.

Scorned

2005-11-04T20:50:00.000-05:00

"That'll show him," thought Hav Va smugly. For a few moments, she watched the unfolding inferno with amused detachment before turning to the controls. She flicked a switch and the ship's FTL drive kicked in. Stars streaked across the viewport.

Behind her, the blue-green globe turned a hellish red, as neutrons danced in fury.

Dissolution

2005-11-04T18:07:00.000-05:00

"Alice, please come in and have a seat. The board of directors has completed its deliberations. Mr. Clark and I, as division chiefs, are pleased to inform you that you have been selected as Executive Director."

Ah, Alice thought. Power handed back to the people.

"Thank you. My first orders are to dissolve this board."

The Account

2005-11-04T01:36:00.000-05:00

"I want to open an account," said Shameem. She had been waiting in line under the blistering August sun for over an hour.

The teller eyed her hostilely, his face an ugly sneer. Shameem blushed under his gaze. Her face warmed as she realized that he could smell the scent of her day's labor.

Silently, she extended a folded piece of paper.

"What is this?" barked the teller. He grabbed the paper with sweaty, bearlike hands.

"It's a... a check, sir," mumbled Shameem. "They said I could bring it to any National Bank branch."

"They? They? Who told you to come here? Speak up, girl."

"The government. A man. I don't know. When they pulled our house down. They gave me a check. They gave everybody checks."

The teller laughed lustily, a long unpleasant laugh. "Oh, so you're one of those squatters. From the hovels they cleared for the new highway."

"Uh – yes, sir," said Shameem humbly. "We had a nice house. With two rooms and a little kitchen. And a tin roof. My... my man put on the roof himself last winter.

"They gave me this check. They gave us all checks. Said they were doing us a favor since we didn't own the land. And we're supposed to get deeds for a new development outside the city."

The teller laughed his nasty laugh again. "Bloody squatters," he thought to himself. "Thank God we're rid of the lot of them."

"You'll have to go the National Bank branch on Napier Road," he said to Shameem. "We don't do this sort of thing here."

"Napier Road?" said Shameem dismayedly. "But I was told..."

"Yes, yes, I know what you were told," said the teller in a loud voice. "And now I'm telling you to go to Napier Road. Move along, I have decent customers waiting."

He pushed back the check.

Clutching the crumpled check, Shameem stepped out of line. It was getting late. She would have to change two buses to get to Napier Road and banks closed early on Saturday.

Skipping Stones

2005-11-04T00:06:00.000-05:00

The stone felt smooth and round as she rubbed it in her hand, although perhaps too thin and light. As they walked along the shore, she continued to glance down searching for more suitable rocks.

Linda slowed her pace and asked her, "have you told Frank about us?"

"No – although I'm not sure there would be a point."

"But we've been meeting like this for eight years now. Are you thinking it's time we stopped, and let reality have a turn with us?"

She put her hands in the pockets of her fleece, shielding them from the raw fall wind. Linda reached her hand in to hold hers, and share her warmth. "No, this is real to me. Frank and I exist together everyday, but my true self is also here with you once a year. If we didn't meet, I would feel like life wasn't reality."

Linda stopped, crunching her feet in the rocky sand. "But it just seems so pointless. You say this relationship will last a lifetime, but we barely see each other."

"We'll still grow old together, we'll just see it pass in much smaller windows of time."

Linda squeezed her hand, and said, "until next year then." They kissed once more, and drifted apart. Linda turned and walked briskly back to the beach parking lot, keeping her face down, away from the breeze.

She faced the ocean, keeping the wind to her left, and flung the stone low towards the horizon. In the end it was too light, unable to hold itself steady, and fell through the surface without a single skip.