Flash Fiction Prompt For Friday, December 4, 2015
When posting, don't forget to include your name and your Twitter handle.
I look forward to reading your words.
Friday, December 4, 2015
Flash Fiction Contest #6
Welcome to the last #OAFlash fiction of 2015. After this, our next contest will be run the weekend of January 8, 2016 to give everyone (myself included) a nice holiday break. If this is your first time, check out The Rules here.
Flash Fiction Prompt For Friday, December 4, 2015
When posting, don't forget to include your name and your Twitter handle.
I look forward to reading your words.
Flash Fiction Prompt For Friday, December 4, 2015
When posting, don't forget to include your name and your Twitter handle.
I look forward to reading your words.
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After we finished cleaning up dinner, Mom shepherded us into the sitting room. Dad lit the fireplace while Adele put on a CD of Christmas music. It was my job to retrieve our shoes and line them up in front of the fireplace, a holdover from the Papa Noel traditions of our childhood—and Mom’s.
She bustled in with the final piece of our Christmas Eve tradition, the wonderfully decadent buche de Noel cake. We each took a slice and found our usual seats. Mom and Dad got the couch, while Adele and I sat at their feet. I loved how Christmas Eve transported me back to my childhood. Fire, cake, and music all combined to make a peaceful feeling in my heart that lasted all night. Even without the anticipation of gifts from Santa in the morning, nothing beat the way I felt right in that moment. I even set aside the pain of not getting into CSU. Which was nice, because being upset for a long time is hard on my spirit.
“I’m so tired,” Adele murmured through a mouthful of cake. “Good thing Mom isn’t making us go to Midnight Mass.”
Mom’s slippered foot swung out to nudge Adele’s shoulder. “I haven’t made you go in years.”
“And we’re grateful every year.” Dad gave Mom a goofy smile, scrunching his eyes shut and sticking his lips out for a kiss. She planted a loud one on him, and Adele and I gave each other a look. As kids, it would have been a look that said, “Gross!”, but now that we were both adults it communicated our satisfaction with the contentment of our family. We sat in silence, appreciating the fire and the cake.
Dad looked at the clock. “It’s not too late to watch an episode of Star Trek. Who’s in?”
Mom and Adele mumbled something about wanting to get to bed early.
Dad bit his lip. “Or we could just go to bed.”
“That sounds good,” Mom said. She took the plates to the kitchen, and we all went to our separate rooms.
I sat on the floor, stroking Tribble’s head. He took advantage of the open door of the kennel by inching out until his paws hung over the edge. Unlike my mom and Adele, I wasn’t tired. I tried to decide what to do: read a book or watch a show on my computer.
My phone beeped. Or I could talk to somebody.
Joyeux Almost Noel!
Jeff.
I had to look up how to say Merry Christmas in Italian.
Buona Almost Natale!
No, in Italian you switch the adjective and noun. It should be Buona Natale Almost.
I smiled. What a goof.
What would I do without you to teach me proper Italian?
You wouldn’t be able to get a panino for love or money if you went to Italy, that’s for sure.
I’m not going to Italy.
You might.
But I’m not.
But you might.
Nooo. Missed it.
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