Short stories, fantastic tales, spun from a single picture. It’s flash fiction month! This month it’s rainy, cold, dreary February…so we needed a light-hearted story to keep us going. This one was fun ~ see what you think!
But first, check out the openers from Robin and Trish!
Robin Lythgoe
Author of As the Crow Flies
Learning to Fly
Striped Chasca, Seventeenth of the beloved and revered Fluffy, picked her way delicately down the garden path. She held her ears up, chin at a haughty angle, and let only the very tip of her tail twitch—just the way she’d seen the senior members of the clan do. Every dozen steps or so, she paused to preen, using the opportunity to sneak backward glances at her magnificent wings.
Patricia Reding
Author of Oathtaker
Huckleberry’s Whimsey Day
by Patricia Reding
Copyright Patricia Reding 2020
His muscles aching and his wings tattered, Huckleberry tumbled through the air, his four legs akimbo, before finally righting himself. Looking down, he spotted a branch below, largely clear of brush. He aimed for it, confident that like all kittens, he would indeed land on his feet.
Keeping his knees loose, his paws touched. He bounced up, and then aimed yet again for another, even clearer branch, just below. On arrival, he teetered. Regaining his balance, he heaved in a deep breath in an effort to still his wildly beating heart. All the while, he contemplated on how his panic …
Parker Broaddus
Author of A Hero’s Curse & Nightrage Rising
“My dad could eat your dad.”
“Not if he can’t catch him first.”
“He’s one of the best fliers we have!”
“He still can’t outfly my dad. No cat can outfly a bird.”
“Bet I could outfly you.”
“Not a chance.”
The nestling and the kitten eyed each other warily. The kitten broke the terse silence. “I’m Starbucks. I was named after-”
“I’m Boeing!” The nestling interrupted. “I was named after the fastest flying machines of the old gods.”
Starbucks huffed. “As I was saying before you interrupted me, I was named after the elite fuel of the old gods.”
“My parents told me the old gods used joe for fuel. Everything ran on joe.”
The kitten tutted. “Starbucks was the name of the best joe. The fastest. Those old Boeing flying machines couldn’t even get off the ground without me.” Starbucks stuck out his scrawny chest.
Boeing fluffed her feathers and hopped in place. “If the Federation of Fliers hadn’t give you cats the gift of flight after the Sky War you wouldn’t be in the air at all. Joe or no joe.”
“We’d have figured it out eventually.” Starbucks licked a paw and prepared to ignore the nestling, but just then a shadow blotted out the morning sun over the kitten and the nestling. A beak, large enough to swallow either of them and strong enough to break bones snapped ominously. The little ones shrank together, trembling. Black, round eyes gleamed.
A chuckle rumbled in an enormous chest. “Did I hear the Federation of Fliers? The Sky War?” The giant head swooped down next to the younglings. The eye narrowed. “I would have snatched you both from the sky.” The beak clicked. The eye glared at the nestling. “Who’s our young historian?”
“Boeing, s-s-sir.”
“And you?” The head swiveled toward the kitten.
“St-st-st-Starbucks, sir.”
Both eyes blinked once. “Well, St-st-st-Starbucks and Boeing,” and here he chuckled again, “I am Professor Screech.” They noticed then the dapple of grey and white around the eyes, and dusting the tips of his horned feathers. The old owl pulled his head away from the youngsters. “I look forward to seeing you both in class. Don’t be late.” With that he spread wings that looked like they could have held the whole forest and swept off the branch with a quiet rustle.
“Wow,” Starbucks breathed.
“Yeah,” Boeing squeaked. She ruffled her downy feathers. “I heard he’s our first year headmaster.”
“Right!” Starbucks gushed, “He’s from the old days, from before the Great Peace.”
They both paused, reminded suddenly of the treaty that had defined their entire lives. Awkward shuffling ensued. “So we’ll be studying together I guess?” Boeing asked.
“I ‘spose so,” Starbucks shrugged his tiny wooden wing frame. Then, in a rush it all came out. “The truth is, I can’t fly at all.”
Boeing twittered a nervous laugh and then scratched at the branch with a foot. “I’m afraid of heights.”
At that, they both chuckled, which turned into a long laugh that had them both wheezing and holding their sides. Finally Starbucks hiccuped twice. “Do you think you could give me some tips on flying? I always flip upside down, even on a glide.”
“I will if I can,” Boeing replied, suddenly shy.
“Thanks!” Starbucks ducked his head. “Actually, my parents never went to flight school. I’m the first in the family.”
Boeing stretched out her wing, waving it at the airy blue expanse, just beyond the protection of the ancient oak. “Welcome to Sky, Starbucks.”
The fun thing about writing stories for young ones is that they present opportunities to set forth serious principles in a fun way. This did so beautifully!
Here is my favorite line:
Boeing twittered a nervous laugh and then scratched at the branch with a foot. “I’m afraid of heights.”
It illustrates so well how the grandest puffery is sometimes just the dressing one puts on fear and uncertainty.
Well done!
I loved the same line. A bird afraid of heights! I also love the characters’ names, too. Very creative. Fun as always!