Have we been at this long enough now that I can lose the lame intro paragraph? I think so.
The Rules
* You get five minutes to write a piece of prose in any style or genre.
* You must directly reference today’s prompt: Flying
* Post your entry as a comment to this post.
That’s it. I’ll close the contest at 1:45. We all know how this works, we can all be grown-ups about it and if you are confused or just want to whine, feel free to email me.
At the close of the contest, this week’s guest judge, Robert James Russell, otherwise known as @robhollywood, and the newest Year Zero Writer and, depending on which poll you ask, the winner or near-winner of no less than three Five Minute Fiction Challenges, will nominate five finalists. I’ll put the nominees in the poll on the side of the page, and at 9:30 PM EST I’ll close the poll and declare the winner.
For updates, you can subscribe to my RSS Feed, or follow me on twitter.
What’s the prize? Well, nothing, obviously. But we’ll all agree to tweet and/or blog about the winner of today’s contest so their fame and fortune will be assured.
A Few Notes:
* In the interest of time and formatting, it’s best to type straight into the comment box. It’s also smart to do a quick highlight and copy before you hit “post” just in case the internets decide to eat your entry.
* I reserve the right to remove hate speech or similar but I’m not too picky about the other stuff.
* This is all for fun and self-promotion. So be sure to put your twitter handle at the end of your post and a link to your blog if you have one.
Annnnddddd… GO!
I’m excited to be judging!! 🙂
Bring it on, writers!
It was the most incredible feeling, flying. Tess looked over at me and laughed.
“First time, Danny?”
I didn’t have the breath to answer her. The blue of the sky whisked past my face like a cool caress and I was one with the wind and the world.
“How could you have waited so long?” she yelled over the whoosh of the wind rushing past.
Well it hadn’t been my choice. I’d wanted to fly for as long as I could remember, and I thought my heart would break as one by one, in their turn, all the other boys had sprouted their wings and I did not.
Now I laughed and the feeling was of incredible release, climax. And I thought of those boys, men now, to whom this had become commonplace, everyday. Whose first experience of this bliss had been in the days of feckless, ignorant youth. But I could do this for the first time as a man, and know what it was worth.
I smiled, and I was happy.
Flying was not something Eloise had wanted to do her entire life. Ever since those two idiots thought up the airplane. She could take a train, thank you very much. Of course, her great-grand daughter, Abigail wanted her at the wedding. A shotgun wedding. No notice, no planning. Eloise heard from her daughter, Jane, the comment.
“Great grandma can just fly out. I’m sorry I’m not going to push it back for her. You’d think a few days notice would be fine!”
Eloise shook her head, the old recliner soft under her, flitered sunlight rising up to greet her face. Fly! As much as she wanted to see the youngest get married, she more than wanted to wring her neck for the indignity. She dialed Jane.
snowppl.wordpress.com
@snowppl
I have been sat here for a long time now. It is winter. The cool air caresses the face and burns the eyelashes as the tears well up. Not because of sadness, just because of the wind, and the cool bleak horizon.
I often look down into that valley from here, and think to myself how wonderful it would be to transport myself to the furthest reaches of my perception – flying down from this hill, through the valley and there – to land in that most toy-like of villages, turning, pulling my greatcoat up on my shoulders and seeing that mighty mountain rise high against the dirty winter skies. I would be somewhere I had never been! So fresh, and exhilarating. Even being so old, it is fantastic to be somewhere new. I could walk on creaking ankles to the bakers and buy a wonderful fresh loaf of bread. The crust creaking under my bony fingers, the smell rising to the nostrils.
But that is all gone now, lost to the wind – all those energies. It is a long time to be alone, under a tree, as the years leave. It is a long time to rest, alone as the flowers grow.
@Rob_Bear
I Can Still Fly
by Chris Blanchard (@blanchardauthor on twitter)
It’s an amazing sensation. Almost like falling, except that it’s controlled, gentle. Every time I go up, I feel like I am touching God. My granddaughter looks at me as I try to explain this to her. She’s only six, she doesn’t really get what I’m trying to say.
“Is it really like that, Grandpa?” she says. “Do you really touch God? I want to touch God. What’s he like?”
I smile. “No, little one, I don’t actually touch God, not physically. I think that my soul touches him, though. You should ask you father, I bet he feels that same way when he goes up.”
“Yeah?” she asks again. “I want to go up. When can I go up?”
“Well, one day,” I said, “when you’re older. You’re just a bit too young to go now.”
“Can you take me?” she asks. “Can you take me up, the next time you go?”
I have a brief moment where fear of making her angry for saying no and a strong desire to do whatever this beautiful little woman asks of me. I look over at her mother, my daughter-in-law. She nods slightly. I smile down at my granddaughter.
“Sure, honey,” I say. “How about right now? I’m still in my uniform.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah!” she squeals, and jumps into my arms.
I hold her in one hand, point another up to the sky, and then jump up. We’re in the air instantly, and I take it slow, so she can see and experience everything. It doesn’t take long before her house is toy sized.
I may be too old to be an active super hero, but I can still fly.
She looks at me through tears. I ask her what’s up and she says, it’s you, looking at me like that.
Like what?
Like that, like I’m an angel.
You are my angel.
Yeah that, she says, and the tears are falling on the ground below her, forming pools, and I think they look like the sea, and I think yes, you ARE an angel, you’re my angel, flying over the sea. Flying away from me. You’re my angel and I’m losing you, and your wings are blocking out the sun.
Let me hold you, I say.
No, she says. her voice is softer and she’s further away than ever and the tears are trailing on the floor like a river beneath her.
Just once?
No.
Why?
How can you hold me if I’m your angel? she says. My wings are too big for your arms.
@agnieszkasshoes
BTW this is @snowppl. I hit comment and now I can’t add it. Nor paragraphing *sigh*
Flying High.
The eagle soared up into the sky, high up into the bright sun.
‘Look at it – magnificent,’ said Robbie, ‘That thing, just watching it; it gladdens my heart.’
‘So free up there, so alive and vibrant and beautiful’ Jack drew in a lungful of sour air.
All the others, they all just stood there. Watching. Watching as the eagle broke left, then right, then dived down, scooping up a smaller bird in sharp talons.
‘Atta boy’ Reggie, shouted. And all the others cheered.
‘Okay, you guys, come on.’ the guard shouted. ‘let’s get you back to your cells.
@noellepierce
The wind tickled my nose and it took me a moment to figure out how to breathe in the rushing air. A feeling of weightlessness flooded me as I soared higher. The ground below became distant, all the landmarks looking like toys.
This is what it feels like. The elders had warned me, but they couldn’t really describe the power, the speed, the ecstasy of gliding along the currents. My stomach roiled as I twisted my body to dive, turning with my arms out to my sides. I pulled up just before I collided with the treetops and resumed my horizontal drift.
I couldn’t believe I was finally flying. It was worth the wait.
Suddenly, a shadow blocked the sun and I looked up to see an eagle. I gulped—this would be the end of me.
But at least I got to fly.
“You were in it, and Jack, but he didn’t look like Jack, he looked like a dream Jack.”
“Yeah,” she said, barely taking in the nervous gabbling that flowed from her friend.
“So anyway, we were all in this car, and the sky was really red, like, I dunno, like the most intense sunset, like, ever.”
She looked up as the seatbelt sign came on and checked the clasp. She glanced into her friends lap. “Seat belt time.”
“Oh God, I don’t think I can do this.”
“You can, just remember to breathe, in, out, in, out. That’s good. I’ll do your belt. Carry on with the dream.”
“Errr… yeah… we were all in this car and there were these signs by the side of the road saying there’d been an accident- oh God is that noise normal?”
“Yes, it’s just the engine warming up. Then we’ll start moving slowly towards the runway, okay? You were telling me about the signs.”
“Yeah… and I tried to stop the car, but the steering wheel didn’t work, and the brakes didn’t work. There was a traffic jam up ahead, and we were going to crash – why is that steward talking on the phone? Is there a problem?”
“No, he’s telling the Captain that the cabin crew are ready.”
“Oh, okay. Yeah, the car crashed, and I went through the windscreen, and it was so vivid – it didn’t hurt – but it was like I could feel the glass breaking on me and I thought, this is it, I’m going to die, but I felt really calm. And I thought about Freddie, and who would feed him, and then I was flying!”
“Flying?”
“Yeah, I went up in the air and – what was that bang?”
—
I’m @EmApocalyptic over on Twitter and my site is http://www.enewman.co.uk
Thanks!
“If approached by someone you don’t know to and asked to stow…”, the overhead speak blared as I sat in the airport. It’s warnings ignored by most of those sitting around me.
I was on my way out of the country and it couldn’t come fast enough. I couldn’t stand to sit in this awful airport much longer. The smells of those around me struck my nose and made me feel sick.
“Excuse me. Are you finished with that?” asked a blonde pointing at a USA Today sitting on the seat next to me.
“Finished with what? Oh that? It’s not mine, go ahead.” Even with how beautiful she was I couldn’t stand to make conversation with how I was feeling.
“Do you mind?” she asked. I shrugged my shoulders and she sat down next to me. She was wearing a pencil skirt with sling backs and tight red shirt. Normally, I would have enjoyed her, but today I felt sick as shit.
“Where are you flying to?” she asked, relentless.
“Where are you headed?” I turned the question around on her.
“I’m on my way to Chicago” she stated, excitedly.
“Good then, I’m flying somewhere else.”
At that I got up and headed to my gate.
Jessica still hadn’t found what she was looking for. That perfect moment in time. She toted her camera through the park and snapped several failed attempts: a young man playing frisbee with his golden retriever, a little pig-tailed girl eating an ice cream cone, a large oak with bars of sunlight breaking past the leaves and branches.
Crap. It’s all crap, she thought.
She sat on one of the park benches, defeated. He shoulders slouched forward and she held her camera in both hands between her knees, though the neck strap would have kept it from shattering to the ground, along with her dreams.
If she didn’t find that perfect photograph, she’d be fired. In a sense it was her own fault. She hadn’t given much effort over the years. Her boss was riding her on this one thing—a photograph to capture the essence of humanity.
She laughed at herself. Yeah, me capture the essence of humanity. What a load of crap, she thought.
As she was browsing through her photographs, thinking the tree was perhaps her best shot so far, and hardly qualified unless she wanted to get fired for expressing herself in an unconventional way—again—a homeless woman sat beside her.
“Hope you don’t mind,” the lady said, settling in. She reached inside a small pouch and retrieved a small loaf of freshly baked bread.
“No, not at all. I was about to get going anyway.”
The lady smiled, the bread crackling as she broke it in half. “I come here to feed the birds.” She handed half the loaf to Jessica.
“Oh, I’m not a bird,” Jessica said. Her face heated with embarrassment as she realized how foolish she sounded. “I mean. really, you should keep this.”
Jessica started to hand the bread back, but the woman lifted her hand and shook her head. “No, no. You need it more than me.”
The lady turned away from Jessica then, but didn’t leave the bench. She just sat there, crumbling sections of bread and tossing it to the ground in front of her.
Birds flew from all over and landed to eat the small meal. Jessica stood there, staring at the loaf in her hands, and then back to the lady. A smile cracked though and the stress fell away. She helped the old lady feed the birds, then walked a few feet down the path, and took a photograph of the kind woman on the bench, the birds in flight, and the very essence of humanity.
Looking through the small gap, seeing a small bird flitter by, I grew more hopeless. At one moment, my wife and I sat in the living room, watching TV, laughing at some silly home video about a boy hitting his father in the privates with a tennis racket. Then in the next instant, our lives changed forever. The house shook relentlessly — sending images of our two grown-up boys falling off our newly painted walls and shattering on the wood floor — until finally the floor collapsed, taking the couch and my wife and I with it.
It seems like I’ve been here for hours now, staring out of this small window to the outside. Unable to hear, unable to feel anything but fear, I can’t help but wonder if that little bird I see flying away might be carrying the spirit of my beloved to a better place.
@matthewschulz
“You’ve got nothing to worry about. The plane practically flies itself through turbulence like this,” he said.
I bit my lip and nodded, certain the pilot sitting next to me on the aisle of the Economy Plus section was sick of me flinching at every little bump. His $5 earbuds sat in his lap, still in their packaging. He had missed nearly half of the in-flight movie, which was some ridiculous romantic comedy featuring Meg Ryan and some young actress who had no problems tossing her clothes at the sight of Matthew MacCoughnehey. All of the players completely oblivious to the rocking and rolling of our 747.
“Thank you,” I managed. He nodded and patted my leg.
“Don’t worry about it.”
If I hadn’t been flying to get married that weekend, I probably would have considered flirting with him. He was cute. And at this moment I absolutely loathed my fiance for making me choose a destination wedding in Alaska.
The things we do for love.
I looked out (why they had stuck someone who shits their pants at the thought of flying in a window seat I’ll never know) in an attempt to calm myself, to look at something that wasn’t moving, to lose myself in the inky blackness of the stormy night sky.
The slow, methodical blinking of the lights on the wingtip was calming me, until the pulses matched the beat of my heart. Thump.
Thump.
Like a white hot knife from nowhere, a bolt of electricity arced from the heavens and hit the wingtip, leaving a painful afterimage burned into my retina.
Thumpthumpthumpthump.
My heart was back at it.
“That’s…not good,” I heard the pilot say, before I blacked out, not knowing if I’d ever make it to the altar.
@pfallerj
Whoops. Forgot. @matthewschulz
ugh, I double posted some of my entry. it should end with the first
“That’s…not good,” I heard the pilot say, before I blacked out, not knowing if I’d ever make it to the altar.
sorry 😛
Birdie spread her winds and took to the sky. She’d never flown in her life. This was the first time, this was the big even. She’d been looking forward to it since hatching. Rather, glumly she’d sat off to the side, watching her brother and sister take to the sky.
“They hatched before you, Birdie,” her mother said. “You’ll fly when you’re ready.”
She’d been ready a week ago. And the other three were swooping and diving, skimming along the ground before returning to the highest tip of the tallest tree. When they breezed past, taunting her, she would look away. She didn’t want to give them the satisfaction of knowing she was watching—that she envied them.
And now, as she dipped and weaved with the wind ruffling her feathers, something new passed through her. Freedom. She’d never been free like this. The nest had been a prison; it had been holding her back from being who she truly is. Birdie “faster than an aeroplane” Swallow.
Carving through a turn, she double backed and raced along side a car. Her brother and sister would play games. They teased the dogs and dove in front of vehicles. She didn’t trust her wings yet. She didn’t trust her speed or reaction time. Not yet. But, she was confident she would be able to race with the best of them. Like her hero, Annie Redbreast, who’d flown around the world all by herself fresh from her egg.
With a sigh, Birdie looped back to the nest. She was only allowed to fly for short intervals. Her mother said her wings weren’t strong enough. One day they would be, and then Birdie would never land again. She would be the next Annie Redbreast. And not even her brother and sister would be able to tease her.
oops. Came late. Only has a minute. SOB!
xo
And time’s up!
Look at all the new faces! I can’t wait to get to these, the ones I’ve read so far are wonderful.
Thanks again everyone for participating this week. The nominees and the poll should be up by 3:00 EST, or little more than an hour from now. I’ll comment here, post, and tweet when it’s up.
Thanks again!
(Oh, Andrew and Matt, I fixed your comments to add your twitter handles.)
@InkMuse
but you already know that 😉
“You’re just flying by the seat of your pants!” she said.
I had to concede her point. I didn’t have any sort of plan.
“Just trust me. It’ll all work out fine in the end. I do this all the time.”
“You’re full of shit.”
“I’ll grant you that, but that’s how I roll.”
“Don’t give me th-”
“Look, I’m fuckin this chicken, you just sit back and watch the feathers fly.”
I spotted our mark, a half-drunk trucker stumbling down the block.
“Excuse me, sir,” I said.
He turned and gazed at me through the fog of alcohol, his eyes focused yards behind me.
“MWahaza?”
“My girlfriend and I need some money, and they won’t let us pawn this jewelery because we’re only 17. Could you take care of the transaction for us? We’d let you keep ten percent.”
He looked like he didn’t quite understand things, but after a minute nodded.
“No problem,” he said.
He dissappeared into the pawn shop and I stuck my tongue out at Sarah.
“Whatever, we ain’t done yet.”
Five minutes later, the trucker came back out.
“Here you go.” He handed me $50.
Rage consumed me. “That was easily ten thousand in jewelery, sir.”
“Eh?”
“Where’s the rest of my money?”
“Sorry kid, I’m not that great a negotiator.”
Sarah couldn’t resist.
“Told ya so,” she said. “Next time we do it my way.”
dangit, lol, I had connection problems, couldn’t hit the site till 1:42! 🙂
@taojoannes
Ooh. Lots of good ones this week. This is going to be hard!
I fixed it for you, Jeff. And Tao, we’ll forgive you the few seconds you were late. But just this once. 😉
Much thanks.
I just play for motivation, lol. A great way to force five minutes on the WIP.
Wow, lots of great stuff her today. I do not envy you, Robert.
-Chris
Poll’s up! Congratulations finalists!
https://www.leahpetersen.com/2010/06/five-minute-fiction-week-six-time-to-vote/#content