Flash Fiction Friday: Simon's New Cape

Hey Guys,

Okay Flash Fiction is a new thing I’ve been told about so let’s see how this pans out and works. Apparently the aim of Flash Fiction is you look at an image of something and you write for an allotted time, or until you reach a certain amount of words. Maybe once or twice I might change these Flash Fiction entries into short films so watch out for them on my film YouTube channel which I have set up for my short films.

This week I have used a prompt book to create my Flash Fiction story. The book itself is The Writer’s Book of Matches by the staff of fresh boiled peanuts, a literary journal.

The prompt I have used this week is the following, in bold, then my story follows shortly after:

A twelve year old boy decides to become a superhero:

It was a cold, early January weekend and Simon was playing with his Christmas toys. Simon loved the weekends because he got to come and see me.

His mother worked on the weekends, and his father was long gone. So he came round and spent some time with me, his one, and only, nana.

Simon loved coming round because I let him play, undisturbed, as long as he was well behaved. I also baked him cakes and cooked him his favourite meals.

As Simon played with his Christmas toys, I watched him from the corner of my eye, making sure he didn’t hurt himself or get too over-excited. At the same time I had the news on the television.

I was watching Simon and listening to the news when suddenly an article came on that grubbed hold of my attention.

The reporter was telling me the dreadful news about a war in some faraway place.

I took a huge a huge gulp and tasted my worry as the reporter continued to tell me that the British army would be getting involved.

I licked my dry lips and wiped my fear stained brow. I thought about my son Jack, who was part of the army. He had been injured a few times whilst on duty and I didn’t want him to be injured again, or worse.

Each time a news reporter came on and informed me of a fight, or a war that needed the British army’s support, the taste of fear and worry would hit me in the back of the throat.

I looked over at my only grandson, hoping that he would stay twelve. Praying that he would stay young and innocent forever and that he wouldn’t end up like his uncle Jack, or divorced and unhappy like his mother, Rebecca.

The sound of clanking toys laid my worries for the child to rest for a short while.

‘Simon.’ I called to him softly. He looked up at me. ‘Would you like a slice of cake?’ I ask. Simon nodded, I was glad of this as it gave me a reason to escape the report on the fighting.

I held onto the sides of my aging armchair and lifted myself out; I walked over to the kitchen counter behind me and reached for the draw. I opened it and pulled out a cold metallic knife.

 I placed the knife on the glossed, wooden surface of the counter and walked over to the fridge.  As I opened it, the light and cold air hit my face and cooled my worried brow. I pulled out the cold china plate which held the chocolate cake that I had baked the night before. I closed the fridge door and placed the cake filled plate onto the counter.

I then placed both my hand on the counter edge for a few seconds, staring deep into the cake, into space, and day dreamed. I was hoping I would somehow find an answer or a release from the pressure building in my pounding heart.

Suddenly I felt a tug on my Knitted cardigan. Surprised, I turned round and looked down. I saw Simon staring up at me, his light blond hair shimmering at me. He was wearing the blue comic-hero cape that his mother had bought him for Christmas.

I kneeled down to see what my little grandson wanted.

‘What’s up dear?’ I stroked his soft cheek as I asked. He placed his hand upon mine and I felt a strange sensation travel from his hand to mine. This sensation then travelled up my arm. I looked at Simon in bewilderment.

‘Nana,’ He looked me straight in the eyes. His pale blue eyes had a certain, special sparkle to them.  ‘I want to help Uncle Jack.’

My fear forcibly built, my heart sunk. It started pounding at the bottom of my stomach. It started racing and forced tears to collect and well up. This was exactly the words I had dreaded.

As my fear built, Simon’s hand tightened slightly and another shoot of the strange feeling somewhat calmed me.

‘You don’t have to worry Nana.’ He paused and smiled. He let go of my hand, letting it drop to my side. He touched the middle of my chest, it felt as if he had extended through my ribs to massage and calm my racing heart. ‘I want to become a superhero.’

I smiled at the little boy’s innocence. He still believed in superheroes and thought that, with this cape, he could become one.

‘You will always be my superhero dear.’ I whispered into his ear, brushing his soft, pale hair behind it as I did so. ‘Unfortunately you can’t help your Uncle Jack or...’

‘I can though Nana!’ Simon interrupted; he stepped back from me and looked up at the counter where I had just placed the cake. I followed his line of sight and wondered what he was doing.

The next thing I saw was unbelievable and incredible. I blinked constantly, thinking I had fallen asleep and was dreaming, yet the tears of amazement that rolled down my cold, wrinkled cheeks informed me that this was real.

The metallic knife which was lying on the counter next to the plate started to rise; it hovered over to the cake and cut through it.

I stared back at Simon in astonishment, wondering what was happening.

‘See Nana,’ He exclaimed. ‘I can help Uncle Jack and become a superhero.’

I looked at my grandson in shock as his smile gleamed at me.

Let me know what you think in the comments below.

Stay safe,

Matt

| Follow | Facebook | Twitter | YouTube | Scribd | GoodReads |