Category Archives: Flash Fiction

April 19, 2014

‘Quartz’ #AtoZChallenge

Mines get hot as hell once you get down the bottom of the drift, but not near as suffocatin as further in where the vein’s runnin. It’s hard work, but good work if you can get it. They say a miner, he either got the nose for it or he don’t. And the one’s that do, well, they got themselves a job for life. Me, I got the nose. The crew I’m on, they follow where I say to go. I tell the crew boss I think the vein’s runnin over there in that direction, then that’s the direction we dig. Don’t fool yourself, there’s skill involved, plenty of it. Ain’t easy swingin a pick axe all day long. Quartz reef minin ain’t for everyone. Most men go bat-shit-crazy just thinkin ‘bout bein this far underground. Not me though, me and the crew I’m on, we climb in that bucket every day, head down here, do our job, and collect our pay; no bitchin, no fightin – no problems for the crew boss means no firin. You gotta trust these men to have your back, without that trust; too many of us never see the surface again. I ain’t planning to be one of ‘em. You think the corporation give a shit, they don’t. A man dies down here, the suits give his wife just barely enough to feed herself and her babies for a month, maybe less – it’s disgustin. But everybody wants to keep their job, so we don’t say nothin. The crew bosses, they’re alright though, they take up a small collection, then they make up the difference from their own pockets. They go ‘round every week or so, make sure everybody is healthy and eatin. It’s like a family, nobody talks ‘bout it, we just do it. I just hope it don’t pinch-out ‘for I do.

Welcome to my April AtoZ Blog Challenge post! I hope you enjoyed my ramble, and come back for more! Don’t forget to visit the other bloggers participating by clicking on the badge to the right, or simply using this link. :}

8 Comments | tags: 2014 AtoZChallenge, Blog hop, flash fiction, Nina D'Arcangela, Q, Quartz, Sotet Angyal, The Dark Angel | posted in 2014 A to Z Blogging Challenge, Flash, Flash Fiction, Writing

April 17, 2014

‘Once’ #AtoZChallenge

By Nina D'Arcangela

Do I know you? Certainly I’ve seen you somewhere before? Your face is so familiar, but I can’t quite place it. It seems I should, know you that is. I remember now – your eyes. I’ve seen your eyes before, bright and glistening; dancing shades of blue and green with a hint of ocher when the sunlight strikes them so. Beautiful, your eyes; but something else as well – something deeper, something hidden. You mask it well, the pain, the sorrow, the dejection; the overwhelming regret. You’ve a knack for such things, don’t you? Constructing an elaborate veil to keep the world at bay? But eyes, they reveal what lives within if one is honest enough to look. I always remember a set of eyes; particularly ones guarding wounds so old yet still so raw. Yes, I’ve seen your eyes before, though it seems I choose to forget this particular set until the mirror forces me to see their grief once more.

12 Comments | tags: 2014 AtoZChallenge, Blog hop, flash fiction, Nina D'Arcangela, O, Once, Sotet Angyal, The Dark Angel | posted in 2014 A to Z Blogging Challenge, Flash, Flash Fiction, loss, muse, pain, Reflections, Writing

April 16, 2014

‘Noise’ #AtoZChallenge

By Nina D'Arcangela

Legs dangling from the tiny wooden foot bridge, the drift of the brook carries my feet afloat. The air is damp and heavy this evening with a cloying fog left behind by the rains.

On warm summer nights like this, I often sleep on the screened porch so that I can hear the rain drum on the tin roof, feel its spray through the mesh covering the windows. When the rain stops, I wander without shoe or sock in the damp meadow bordering our small parcel. Beyond the meadow lies the thinning perimeter of a forest; tall, young birch trees skirting the edge. A dirt path leads to the foot bridge, the feel of damp earth on my feet a texture I enjoy as much as the wet grass. Sitting on the bridge in my pajama shorts and tank top, damp hair clinging to my face, I let the current stroke my feet clean.

Hearing a faint noise, I turn but can barely see the handrail of the bridge itself, let alone any farther. I dismiss it as a curious animal emerging from its den after the downpour. I hear nothing further, but the small hairs on the back of my neck begin to rise. I turn again, expecting to find something or someone upon me. Again, nothing is there. I refuse to be spooked by my own imagination. After several minutes, I neither hear nor feel anything further.

Legs still dangling, I lay back and rest on the wooded planks of the bridge. The late hour, calming fog, and soothing water conspire to lull me to sleep. I wake – after how long, I don’t know, but I notice the forest is eerily quiet, unnaturally so.

Pushing to my elbows, I wipe a hand across my face to clear my own inner fog. I catch movement out of the corner of my eye. Whispering a tentative hello, I pull my legs up, but they don’t seem to want to work. Still focused in the direction of the movement, I reach down with my left hand to rub the feeling back into my limbs. I feel slick wood, slicker than it should be, but nothing else. Shocking paralysis grasps me by the throat; I go dead still, unable to move. Finally, my head obeys and pivots to look downward. Blood gushes from my severed knees, I stare in shock and disbelief, but still I feel no pain. Then I hear it, a growling that begins not from behind me, but from below me. I watch as it rises from the water and continues to grow in size. My voice once again finds me, and as I begin to scream; the low growl morphs to an enraged shriek.

8 Comments | tags: 2014 AtoZChallenge, Blog hop, flash fiction, N, Nina D'Arcangela, Noise, Sotet Angyal, The Dark Angel | posted in 2014 A to Z Blogging Challenge, darkness, Flash, Flash Fiction, Horror, Writing

April 15, 2014

‘Memory’ #AtoZChallenge

By Nina D'Arcangela

Why does a building in ruin speak so directly to me? What allure does a dank, musty corridor hold that a newer structure lacks? Beyond being one who embraces her wanderlust, I’m also drawn to the decay and sense of abandonment such places effuse. What stories have they to tell, what past once thrived within the now crumbling walls? What of the soul that may still canvas the lonely walkways? How do I turn my back on the call, look away when something begs to be seen? How am I to fight the desire to lay my eyes on what has long since gone unnoticed, unwanted, unwelcome? Perhaps I’m not meant to turn and walk away. Perhaps I’m one of the few who must see, must feel, must know what such a place wishes to whisper. Am I to consider myself a chronicler of all things forgotten, one who sits in judgment of those who haven’t a care? Or am I to realize that what has been abandoned, pushed to the side, lost and discarded recognizes me as a similar breed and is reaching out so that somewhere, somehow, something will retain a memory of me?

16 Comments | tags: 2014 AtoZChallenge, Blog hop, flash fiction, M, Memory, Nina D'Arcangela, Sotet Angyal, The Dark Angel | posted in 2014 A to Z Blogging Challenge, darkness, Flash, Flash Fiction, muse, pain, Quirky, Writing

April 14, 2014

‘Last’ #AtoZChallenge

By Nina D'Arcangela

The day has come, I’m not quite sure I’m ready. I hear him moving on the wooden floor-boards above. He’s changing his clothes; dressing to play the part. A day, an hour, a moment longer, that’s all I need to say my goodbye; but then, is there ever enough time to lose the one you love? The back buzzer sounds, the last bit of my solitude drifts away. I open my eyes. Sunlight streams through the curtains, it illuminates the subtle cream tones of the room with sheer radiance. I hear him descend the steps, pass the guest area and head for the service entrance. My heart breaks one final time before the day intrudes.

As I hear them rustling in the hall, I close my eyes once more and draw deeply of the air. Roses. More roses are arriving, and orchids – they smell of coconut, and warm vanilla. As the florist brings them in, I can’t help but gush, it’s all so beautiful! A riot of colors and odors that mingle as he artfully spreads them throughout the room. Alstroemerias arrive next, they are beyond stunning – the huge cascades crafted in what she knows are my favorite shades. A surprise, a parting gift.

The final piece is carried in. It is exactly as we discussed, but more beautiful than I dared to hope. A magnificent spray of the darkest midnight-purple Calla Lillies masterfully arranged with nine strands of crystals representing her tears; one for each year we spent together. Each miniature flower a work of art, the entire arrangement a blanket of love to warm my coffin.

16 Comments | tags: 2014 AtoZChallenge, Blog hop, flash fiction, L, Last, Nina D'Arcangela, Sotet Angyal, The Dark Angel | posted in 2014 A to Z Blogging Challenge, Flash, Flash Fiction, Gift, loss, pain, Writing

April 12, 2014

‘Kick’ #AtoZChallenge

By Nina D'Arcangela

Slamming her head into the window, he hears it shatter with a resounding crack. “Look what you made me do? You think I’m made of money, huh?” She cringes as his boot comes up, landing in her gut. Gasping for air, spitting up blood and the remains of her meal, she reaches for a piece of the cracked glass; stumbling and unsteady. “What? You gonna stab me now? F’ing tramp!” She drops the sliver, tries to apologize, but the rage in his eyes is beyond reason. She curls in on herself to protect her already battered body. Instead of the expected kick, he slams his elbows down onto her bent neck. The crunch of bone is unmistakable.

12 Comments | tags: 2014 AtoZChallenge, Blog hop, flash fiction, K, Kick, Nina D'Arcangela, Sotet Angyal, The Dark Angel | posted in 2014 A to Z Blogging Challenge, Flash, Flash Fiction, Horror, pain

April 10, 2014

‘Information Desk’ #AtoZChallenge

By Nina D'Arcangela

For the second time that day, his cell phone rang with an unknown number. Annoyed, he answered. It was the hospital calling to say his son had been in a minor accident and had broken his arm.

Having arrived at St. John’s Medical Center, he stormed the information desk demanding to know where his son could be found. He gave his last name and after a frustratingly long wait, was handed a visitor’s pass and directions to the Critical Care Unit. Utterly confused by the ward assignment, but terrified, he ran through the corridors until he finally shoved his way through the CCU doors. Other than the sound of beeping monitors and a few muffled sobs coming from behind closed curtains, all was very hushed and quiet within. His son was sitting in a chair off to the side – cast on his right arm, eye blackened, head swathed in bandages. He rushed to the boy and hugged him until he heard a small gasp of pain. “Thank God you’re alright. What happened, bud? Why are you in CCU? Where’s your mother?”

“Mr. Seftling?” As he turned, he saw a large nurse standing behind him.

He rose to his feet and answered, “Yes, I’m Robert Seftling.”

“Please, sir, come with me. We need to speak in private,” her eyes shifted to the waiting child.

Glancing back at his son, he was confused. “I don’t understand.”

She looked at him with great sympathy in her eyes. “Sir, Robbie suffered a nasty fall, but he’ll mend in no time. Now please, step over here for a moment.” Without waiting for his approval, she firmly grasped his upper arm and guided him farther down the hall, out of the boy’s range of hearing.

“It’s regarding your wife. The hospital contacted her at 2:37 p.m. to report Robbie’s accident. I’m afraid that in her rush to get here, Mrs. Seftling suffered an accident of her own.” As a tear formed in the hardened nurse’s eye, he knew; she was gone. He looked back at his son, dropped his eyes to the floor and barely nodded. Clearing her throat, the nurse continued, “She was apparently traveling on Route 391 when her car careened off the road. It took the rescue crew over an hour to reach…”

Interrupting her, he simply said, “Please… stop.”

Pausing for a moment, she allowed the news to take root before placing a gentler hand upon his shoulder. For the first time in twenty-three years as a CCU nurse, she allowed the tears to come. She barely spoke above a whisper. “Someone has been waiting to speak with you.” She gestured with her head to a young man still partially dressed in a fireman’s uniform. The man got up and walked over while the nurse returned to her station.

Fumbling with the straps on his overalls, the young man began, “I… I was the last one to speak with your wife, sir. She asked me… she wanted me to… she was weak, but made me promise to give you a message.”

Robert wanted to reach out and choke the younger man, grab him, hug him, scream and yell his fury; his devastated rage. This man was his final link to his wife. Again, Robert nodded his head as his world collapsed in on him.

“She told me her name was June, said it was important that I repeat her name for you to understand. Even in the condition she was… well, even after what’d happened, she was calm, almost sweet, reminded me of my own… Anyway, she asked me to tell you she was sorry.” Looking uncomfortable, the young fireman shuffled from foot to foot. When it became obvious the other man wasn’t going to respond, there was nothing more to do but leave. He ruffled Robbie’s hair as he passed him and walked out the doors.

A brief smile flickered across Robert’s face; her name wasn’t June. It had been a running joke between them for years. Her name was Nan – just Nan, not Nancy or Anita or anything else Nan might have stood for, and she hated it. So he’d always called her June as a reminder of the month they’d met; his June-bug was saying goodbye.

Turning back, he walked to Robbie and gently grasped his left hand. “Come on, kiddo.”

The nurse began to approach him again, “Sir, there are some forms the hospital needs you to sign. We can’t release…”

He waved her off and managed to croak out, “We have no one else. I’ll come back tomorrow, if that’s alright?” He glanced down at his son.

With pinched lips and a smudge of mascara on her cheek, she placed the clipboard back on the counter top and mouthed, I’m so very sorry…

He knew there would be tear-filled goodbyes, paperwork to be handled, arrangement to be made; but not right now. Now he needed to take Robbie home and somehow make him understand his mommy wasn’t coming back.

(part two of two… yesterday, ‘H’, was part one)

16 Comments | tags: 2014 AtoZChallenge, Blog hop, flash fiction, I, Information, Nina D'Arcangela, Sotet Angyal, The Dark Angel | posted in 2014 A to Z Blogging Challenge, Flash, Flash Fiction, loss, pain, Writing

April 9, 2014

‘Hairpin’ #AtoZChallenge

By Nina D'Arcangela

Please, oh please, oh please, was all she could think as she raced to reach the hospital. The call had come nearly thirteen minutes ago. She’d dropped everything and ran from the house. It was a beautiful summer day; he’d asked if he could ride his bike with the neighboring boys. It was a big moment for him; they’d never invited him along before. There was no reason to say no – she was so proud to see her little man growing up.

Oh, God! He just learned to ride last month, I should never have said yes! Her own thoughts tugged at her as she narrowly missed being crushed by a semi hauling lumber as she darted around a slow moving car in her lane. She panicked the moment she heard his name, she didn’t listen to the rest of what the nurse had said. All that mattered was getting to Robbie.

BWWAAHHH! A blaring horn interrupted her thoughts. She was rounding a hairpin turn in the outside lane passing yet another car when she looked over at the driver. He was trying to signal her; swinging his arms wildly as he screamed from inside his own vehicle. She glanced forward just in time to see a cement truck bearing down on her at full speed. Slamming the brakes and yanking the wheel hard to the left, she saw a flash of metal just before her tires left the road.

The car tumbled down the wooded mountainside. As it careened off trees and rocks, the sound of shattering glass and screeching metal was a symphony of noise in the cramped interior. Mouth stretched open; the violent downward motion choked back her scream. Time seemed to slow to a crawl, what took mere seconds turned into infinity as she watched through the cracked windshield. The car eventually came to rest in the ravine; all was silent inside.

(part one of two… tomorrow, ‘I’, will be part two)

18 Comments | tags: 2014 AtoZChallenge, Blog hop, flash fiction, H, Hairpin, Nina D'Arcangela, Sotet Angyal, The Dark Angel | posted in 2014 A to Z Blogging Challenge, Flash, Flash Fiction, loss, pain, Writing

April 8, 2014

‘Grass’ #AtoZChallenge

By Nina D'Arcangela

I’ll sing to you, my love, a song so sweet it will echo for eternity. I long to be near you, but you’ve been taken away to a place I cannot follow. Our hopes and dreams now only memory. I mourn the loss of each cherished moment, each impassioned embrace. I come to this field, run my fingers through the dewy grass as the sun arrives; bask in the shadows as the day retreats. I reach for you, much as I reach for the times we’ll never share again, yet always my hand strikes this vile marker placed above your grace. Still, I feel your radiant smile as I sing; it broadens with each blush upon my cheek. My heart in your hands, as yours is in mine, always.

13 Comments | tags: 2014 AtoZChallenge, Blog hop, flash fiction, G, Grass, Nina D'Arcangela, Sotet Angyal, The Dark Angel | posted in 2014 A to Z Blogging Challenge, Flash, Flash Fiction, loss, muse, pain, Writing

April 7, 2014

‘Fluid’ #AtoZChallenge

By Nina D'Arcangela

Sitting before a low table on a pile of cushions, she prepares herself in the company of her four-footed companions. The atmosphere is one of calm anticipation. This is a seeing night, a night when she will leave behind her own world and step into another’s. The dim light cast by the mica wall sconces along with the candles flickering throughout the room, bounce an eerie glow off the collection of oddities surrounding her. The thick lustrous smoke curling upward from the burning incense takes on a nearly animate quality in the strange light. Here, in this place, none can touch her, but she can reach outward and touch so many.

Choosing a vial from the many she keeps stored in this protected sanctum, she pours a small measure into the silver chalice before her. Lifting the cup and holding it close to her body, the drops warm and grow in volume, filling the over-sized goblet just enough to reflect her glittering eyes as she peers into its surface. She watches through the viscous liquid as he steps from his truck. Her vision distorted by the tremble of the precious fluid held captive in the vessel, she observes as his would-be attacker crouches in the darker shadows.

Her heart quickens with expectancy of what is to come; she watches through amber tinted vision as the assailant silently approaches…