Shorts - Flash Fiction

Just for a Second

The boy sat cross-legged in front of the big picture window of the old cabin. Barely a silhouette in the darkness, but nobody would be around this late in the season to see him anyway. The tiny mountain lake would be completely deserted if it weren’t for his family’s spur-of-the-moment decision to make one more trip before the snows came.

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He had always loved the silence and found tonight’s emptiness and still lake magical. He kept his eyes closed for the past half hour and tried to imagine the lapping waves as they caressed the beach. It was late and he enjoyed the solitary night as few seven-year-old boys could. If he tried hard enough, sometimes he thought he could almost hear the moon through the stillness.

The cold, smooth steel in his small hands quickened his breath. He knew he wasn’t supposed to have it, but he loved feeling the tiny grooves on the dual wheels as his thumb rolled them back and forth. It soothed him and helped him concentrate.

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His parents slept in the front bedroom and his sister and cousin Bella got the only other bedroom. He had been up so long that the covers on his makeshift bed on the couch had long since cooled.

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He sat on a folded blanket, so close to the window that the thin fabric curtain tickled his cheek. The frigid outside temperature leached through the giant window and he could feel the abandoned lake and overcast night radiating a lonely, unwelcome chill. 

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A crisp flick of metal broke the silence.

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Sometimes when it was quiet, his thoughts would surprise him with flashes of random images in incredible detail. The harsh red and pus-yellow slickness of a day-old scraped knee under a loose, brown bandage. A flattened squirrel on the road that had been run over so many times it had become one with the endless ribbon of blacktop.

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As his thumb increased the pace on the wheel, he was rewarded with another image. His cousin Bella, sleeping on her towel in the sand at the beach earlier that summer. Her wet, black hair trailing down the back of her head, lightly touching her shoulders. Smooth skin glistening in the brilliant sunlight as she slept in its warmth.

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Then he felt it. A quick tension from his chest to his groin. And he knew without opening his eyes that the thin flame had magically escaped from the lighter.

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He raised his hands before his face. From the world behind his eyelids he could make out the light dancing alone in the surrounding black. A warm glow to greet him. 

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Deep in his gut, a primal instinct produced a burning reply; fire for fire. His hand moved toward the window. A warm light to meet the cold and dark. Then, on impulse, he transferred the warmth to the curtain. 

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Raw energy flooded his body. Panting with excitement, tiny beads of sweat formed on his brow in spite of the cold evening. He could hear the magic of the ancients climbing the sheer curtain – exploring, racing for freedom. Still, he fought to keep his eyes closed. As the flame sped upward, the power in his gut intensified. Now the beast ran free, but rather than satisfying his enormous appetite, it starved for more. The faster the monster ran, the hungrier they both became. 

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Inhaling harsh smoke made him cough and his eyes began to water. Turning his head, he followed the progress from behind his eyelids. Now, the searing heat forced him to scoot towards the middle of the room. A richer, oily smell signaled the transfer from lace under-curtain to the heavier drapes. The magic was everywhere.

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He never wanted the world to be dark again. 

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It made him sad to think nobody else could see it. He would be the only one to watch the yellow devil eat. And he forced himself to experience it only through closed eyes. Hair singed, he retreated further. His Batman pajamas were soaked in sweat when he heard the first loud POP. He wondered which wooden beam it would eat first. The top of the window frame? Or the open logs that ran along the ceiling?

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A giant explosion knocked him backwards and a hundred vicious hornets stung him all at once. He was cut, and bleeding, and very angry. Whatever made that ear-splitting noise also made him to open his eyes for the first time. It was only for a fraction of a second, but it ruined everything. He immediately forced them closed but the beautiful detail of the true now was stuck in his mind - stealing from his imagination. 

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The giant window was gone. Warring sensations of fire heat and winter cold gave a delicious contrast and made a beautiful, if short-lived marriage. Shards of glass had pierced his face, neck, arms, and torso. Another image flashed of the time he fell into the barrel cactus. But when the image of the missing window jumped forward again, it ruined both the past memory and the present imagination. 

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He forced his eyes shut even though the glass shards screamed for attention. Blood ran into his eyes and he tasted a slippery, metallic tang. He could barely hear the fire now. Only a dull roar like a distant freeway.

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He was suddenly very tired, but didn’t want to miss anything. There was no choice. He had to lie down. The world was fading away. Another explosion shook him but this one seemed far away. Lying on his side, he thought about opening his eyes to watch, but his energy was gone. He would lie here and keep his eyes closed… but just for a second.