Showing posts with label flash fiction. Show all posts
Showing posts with label flash fiction. Show all posts

Friday, September 26, 2008

flash 2

this story came out in tales of enchantment and fantasy, an anthology published by milfores in 2007. read this for a review of the anthology. another review appears here.

A Tidy Little Tale
by Jose Claudio B. Guerrero

Every night at exactly eleven forty-nine, tidy little Mars leaves his apartment in a tidy building on a little street in a subdivision in Quezon City. Tidy little Mars drives along the quiet streets of the subdivision, past the guardhouse where the guard sleeps, unmindful of the tidy little car going out of the gate.

At exactly eleven fifty-one, tidy little Mars turns on his radio and listens to tidy little songs. He chuckles, proud of his tidy little joke. For the next several hours he drives along near-deserted streets looking for his next quarry. He really isn't very picky. Of his quarries, he has only one requirement--that they're not barefoot. Because if they are, how can his tidy little joke work?

Once he spots the right one, tidy little Mars steps on his brake pedal, rolls his window down a crack, and pretends to be lost. With his tidy little voice, he calls out to his victim and asks his usual question: which way to the nearest hospital? when his victim leans over to answer, he takes out a tidy little atomizer filled with chloroform from his breast pocket and sprays it on the quarry's face. He then quickly opens the rear door of his tidy little car, drags the unconscious victim inside, and drives off looking for the nearest secluded spot he can find. There, with his sharp tools and little phials of acid, he cuts up his victim's body into small pieces and places them in tidy little bottles he keeps in the trunk of his tidy little car. Next, he dissolves the victim's bones and hair in the powerful acid. He then takes out his tidy little lighter and burns the victim's clothing, all except for one shoe which he places on the mat in front of the passenger seat. This done, he wipes his now not too tidy little hands on his handkerchief because he is very tidy indeed. Satisfied, he gets in his tidy little car and returns home. As he speeds along the highway, tiddy little Mars rolls down his window and throws out the shoe with a tidy little laugh.

Back at his apartment, tidy little Mars places the bottles filled with pieces of human meat in his refrigerator. Later in the morning he will grind it in his little meat grinder, so he can make the tidy little kikiam that he sells to the men selling snacks fried in pans in wooden carts. After closing the refrigerator door, he yawns a tidy little yawn and starts getting ready for bed. Soon after turning off his lamp on his side table, tidy little Mars falls asleep, his lips formed into a tidy little smile, dreaming of his tidy little joke.

***

Every morning at exactly seven twenty-one, tidy little Nance, dressed in her tidy school uniform, with her hair tied with little bows, sits and waits in the garden in front of their tidy little house on a little street in a subdivision in Quezon City. She waits for her mother to finish reading the newspaper full of stories of missing people. At exactly seven twenty-five, the mother, with her tidy little daughter seated beside her, drives her car along the little streets of the subdivision, past the guardhouse where the guard who is sipping coffee from his mug waves to the car going out the gate.

As her mother maneuvers their car through traffic, tidy little Nance sits on the passenger seat and quietly watches the highway as she listens to tidy little songs on the radio. Her mother also listens, but not to the songs on the radio. She listens for her daughter's tidy little voice as she asks the question she asks every morning: I wonder who owns that shoe? as she points her tidy little finger to the shoe on the highway. And her mother tells her that someone must have fallen asleep on the jeepney the night before and did not realize his shoe had fallen off. Satisfied with this explanation, tidy little Nance shrugs a tidy little shrug and forgets all about the shoe. Her lips formed into a tidy little smile, she fingers the ten-peso coin in her pocket and dreams of the tidy little kikiam she will buy from the vendor after dismissal time.

Sunday, September 21, 2008

dr. seuss on brevity

the past few days i've been thinking about flash fiction and the need for erasure. today i came across this fragment of writing by theodore geisel, better known as dr. seuss. here he makes a case for brevity.


It has often been said
there's so much to be read,
you never can cram
all those words in your head.

So the writer who breeds
more words than he needs
is making a chore
for the reader who reads.

That's why my belief is
the briefer the brief is,
the greater the sigh
of the reader's relief is.the postage stamp featuring dr. seuss that appears here was released by the u.s postal service on geisel's 100th birth anniversary in 2004.

Tuesday, September 16, 2008

flash 1

i moderated a discussion on blogging by established filipino writers today, and i got encouraged to post a sample of my writing online. here is the first flash fiction piece i ever wrote. this was published by anvil in fastfood fiction, a collection of flash fiction by filipino writers both established and emerging.

Saturday Nights When Quilts Get Ruined

by Jose Claudio B. Guerrero


So how did it happen? Were you alone? Well of course you weren’t alone alone, stupid. I meant, were there other people besides you two? No? Ooh, okay so go on, give me all the gory details. Why not? I’ve got the whole night. Huh? No. He went out with his friends. I have no idea where. And who cares where they are? You’re changing the topic. Well? What do you mean “Well what”? Go on, tell me. Wait, wait, wait. Describe him first. Do I Know him? What do you mean you’re not sure? You know all the people I know. Oh, okay, mysterious bitch, is he tall? Like how tall? About Jake’s height? So, he’s tall. Just a minute. There’s someone at the door. No, no don’t hang up.

You won’t believe this. Do you know who that was? The one at the door, stupid. It was from the florist. Jake had a dozen Ice Queens delivered to me. Ice queens are white roses, dear. Let me read you the card. For Joey, the best thing that ever happened to me. Isn’t he simply darling? I’m the best thing that ever happened to him! Chris, you should really get a boyfriend. You don’t know what you’re missing. I’m so lucky I’ve got Jake. What did you say? You’re happy for me? Well, thanks. Enough about me. So go on. How does he look like? What do you mean you have to go? You can’t do what? Hey, hey, wait. I don’t get you. What’s wrong? Chris, chris, don’t hang up. Chris.


*****

You’re late. No, no don’t explain. It’s okay. I got the flowers you sent me. Thank you. No, don’t. That tickles. No. Not just yet. You’re all sweaty. U-huh. Later. Jake. Want some coffee? Okay, let me get you a cup. Yes, I’ve just finished sewing it. Quilt. Not kilt. Kilts are skirts. You like it? Thanks. Mama taught me. It has a story, actually. How much sugar? It’s about us. Here you go. See? That’s you over there on your beat-up couch. Huh? I look worried? Well, no, nothing’s wrong. I’m okay. It’s just that Chris called me up telling me about this guy he slept with. Hey careful! What’s the matter with you? Oh, Jake, you’ll leave coffee stains. Quick, get some ice. Maybe we can still save it. Damn. It won’t come off.