A slightly longer flash fiction story today (still under 400 words, though) inspired by some work in the garden I performed yesterday evening. I hope you like the way I have linked the two pictures I took, and enjoy my story and characterisation where I let my imagination loose.
FIRE IN THE CLOUDS
Kelvin M. Knight
It took most of the evening, burning this piece of wood, then that, each piece carefully measured and weighed, and each in various stages of decay. But now, NOW, sHe appeared. Spencer tried to hide his jubilation but he’d never been good at masking his emotions. Grinning deliriously, he was sweating profusely, and he stank of wood smoke, but none of that mattered. Finally, FINALLY. He fell to his knees, then he stood up, then he bowed.
‘Your majesty.’ No. ‘My King and Queen.’ No. ‘I’m here, ready, willing and able.’ No.
Unsure what to say, and annoyed at himself for not saying anything when he’d practiced before the bathroom mirror for weeks, Spencer grabbed his phone, spun sideways and took a selfie. With an almighty roar, sHe vanished into the flames whooshing from his converted dustbin like a rocket.
‘Sorry, sorry.’ He fell to his knees and pawed the burnt grass. ‘I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. Please forgive me.’
When sHe didn’t, Spencer gnashed his teeth. Minutes later, he grinned. He could summon her again. He’d recorded everything meticulously. He could repeat this. He had to repeat this. He spent the next evening and the next trying to repeat this. He could not.
On the third unsuccessful evening, Spencer regarded the sky and tried not to cry. The blueness and crisp whiteness were sublime. And the way the trees in his garden funnelled the view. He blinked. He stared. A face. There was a face in the clouds. Reaching for his journal, he scribbled the time, the number of clouds, their relative distance apart, an estimated distance from his trees. If sHe was playing hard to get, if he wasn’t meant to worship fire, he would try the element of air instead.