Welcome to this week’s installment of many micro stories, ranging in length from 100 words to 500 words.
With each story we hope to deliver a little whimsy into the lives of our readers.
FLAMES
A spotlight falls on Max and me as our principal announces this year’s homecoming court. Applause drowns out the pounding beat of the Bee Gees’s “Stayin’ Alive.” A disco ball sparkles from the ceiling, and fractured light flickers on the decorated gym walls.
A resonant crack makes me jump, and confetti showers down. I glance at Max, and her smile radiates like it’ll last beyond the end of the world. She looks so handsome, her olive skin more alabaster than usual against her black tux.
Tears cloud my vision as the previous king and queen place crowns on our heads. I beam and pinch the hem of my pink dress in a curtsy.
Then someone shouts, points, and my smile drops.
The disco ball shatters, spitting out gleaming shards, and thick liquid drip, drip, drips down on us. Blood?
My scream deafens me as my dress turns crimson. Jeers erupt around us. Scanning the crowd, I catch sight of Angie’s mocking smile on her fake-tanned face. I turn to Max, but she’s despondent, staring at the red floor. Her handsome tuxedo, ruined. Her hair.
Our night. Tonight is supposed to be ours.
Fury shimmers from me in visible waves. My fingertips glow red like embers, and I shoot a snake of fire toward Angie. She screams as flames engulf her. The stench of burning flesh turns my stomach. Robbie removes his jacket and covers her with it, trying in vain to put the fire out. The fiery serpent devours Angie until she collapses.
Pandemonium ensues when the crowd stampedes. I stumble off the podium, trip over the principal’s prone body, and fall. I crane my neck, searching for Max, but everything blurs in a haze of smoke and incandescent burning.
When I recover enough, the charred ruins of the gym loom around me. Max peers into my face with concern—concern tinged with horror. Regret swirls in my head before giving way to resignation.
Max grabs my hand and gives it a reassuring squeeze. We hobble toward the exit. When we step outside, the chilly night air hits my blood-caked cheeks. Moonlight glistens off the rain-wet pavement. Sobs and groans waft on the breeze. We walk toward the other survivors seated on the asphalt, and they scatter—presumably out of fear—and make room for us.
The full moon glitters like the disco ball. The wail of approaching sirens grows louder. With trembling lips, I hum the refrain from “Stayin’ Alive.”
Max removes her jacket and drapes it over my shoulders. Her kindness, along with her scent lingering on the jacket, soothes my frayed nerves. I mumble my thanks and rest my head on her shoulder, snuggling closer. I imagine ourselves hitting the road after a small breakfast in a dawn-lit diner. Fire will repel anyone who comes after us, and we’ll drive until we reach a safe haven. A safe haven just for us.
Everything will be alright, and the world will be ours again.
Toshiya Kamei takes inspiration from fairy tales, folklore, and mythology. They attempt to re imagine the past, present, and future while shifting between various perspectives and points of view. Many of their characters are outsiders living on the margins of society.
If you enjoyed this drabble you can find it and more in the Hawthorn & Ash 2023 anthology.
Iron Faerie Publishing 