Posts from the Author -- The Weirdening of Dinner

Welcome!

 If you’ve found your way here from flashfictionmagazine.com, welcome to my blog. This is where I post random thoughts about writing,  along with some original work that I don’t mind sharing for free. (I hoard most of my good stuff for copyright purposes, but if you’d like to read something else of mine, follow the link or scroll back through the blog. )

The Weirdening of Dinner

“Weird Dinner” came to me one night as I was reheating some leftovers for a makeshift quesadilla. I was alone for the evening, and thought to myself, “Looks like I’m having weird dinner again.” The story came to me in a flash, and rather than let it slip into the either, I wrote it down. 

“Weird dinner” is what I call those thrown-together meals I make when I’m way too tired to cook. I am a full time worker bee, and a mom, and sometimes I am too exhausted (or I can’t be arsed) to make dinner, too.  One night I made a salad out of cut baby carrots and sliced tomatoes, and an entree out of the leftover chicken nuggets that that toddler rejected (she’s more of a turkey hot dog fan). I said to the hubby, “Sorry. It’s a weird dinner night.” 

To which, to his credit, he responded by saying, “I love weird dinner!” 

As so began the inspiration for my flash fiction story, “Weird Dinner,” which was featured today at Flash Fiction Magazine.  It is a very, very short story (362 words) about eating dinner at the end of the world. If the worst happened, and your food supply was completely cut off, what sort of meal would you make out of the contents of your cupboards? We’d be eating cat food, stale crackers, and cans of cranberry sauce left from last Thanksgiving. 

The biggest inspiration for this story, however, came from my brother, who ate his own weird dinner at the end of the world. 

This July, his partner of twelve years suffered a stroke caused by a massive brain hemorrhage. He survived, but is now paralyzed on his right side and has trouble communicating. Their world has been changed forever—life will never be the same. 

My brother had to return to their apartment alone to pack up all of their possessions and have them placed in storage—a devastating, heart-wrenching task.  When it was time to eat, rather than go to the store or a restaurant, which would have been too much trouble and too depressing, and rather than just waste all that food in their cupboards, my brother made his own “weird dinner.” He found a full can of Kraft Easy Cheese, but didn’t have any crackers. What he did have was a can of large, pitted black olives. And so he opened the can and ate them, filling each olive with a squirt of cheese. 

When he told me about this, I was both grossed out and impressed at his ingenuity. That’s my brother.

And so I dedicate this super short story—my first fiction piece to be published, anywhere, ever—to my amazingly strong, brilliant, and slightly disgusting brother; and to my darling husband who doesn’t much care what’s for dinner. Love you both.

Enjoy,

LLH


P.S.
You can read my story, "Weird Dinner," here. 
Enjoy flash fiction? Read more stories online at www.flashfictionmagazine.com

"The Demented Non-Life of Jefferson Davis" -- Chapter Fourteen

 Another Chapter!

This is a fun one...

Enjoy,
LLH



Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13 

"The Demented Non-Life of Jefferson Davis"

By L.L. Heberlein

(copyright 2015, all rights reserved)

CHAPTER FOURTEEN:

Then I remembered the lizard man, and I knew I was not out of it.

I ran into him in the hallway. He ran straight up to me and did a drop-kick into my groin. I buckled over. He hit the ground, did a roll, and shot back down the hallway. He was out of reach before I could stand up again.

“Little fucker,” I wheezed.

“The stone will be mine!” the lizard screamed. “You will lose, dead man! You will lose everything.” He ran off, up a staircase, before I could sprint down the hall.

Did he know where the stone was? Impossible, I thought. Or, maybe…

I hurried back to the mortuary. Everything seemed just as it should be. I asked to see the body, and was told it was secured as it was being prepared, and no one could see it. That made me feel a bit better. If I couldn’t get in, neither could the lizard. Unless he had some sort of back way in.

I waited until the nice lady with the black dress and tight pony tail left the front desk, and I slid down the back hallway. Like the lobby, the hallway at the mortuary was all dark walls and concrete flooring, with a soft light from strips of lighting along the floor and the occasional opaque glass panel. There were rooms marked one, two and three, doors all closed. I tried door number one.

Inside looked a little like a chapel, in that there were rows of identical padded chairs all lined up, facing the same way toward a fire place at the other end. The fire, and a row of candles up the middle aisle, offered the only light. At the front of the room sat a long dais, or alter of sorts, with arrangements of white flowers on each side and a long, white coffin in the middle.

Bingo.

I approached the coffin slowly, creeping up the aisle without making a sound. I didn’t want to disturb the dead. It seemed somewhat disrespectful to disturb anything. Besides, I wasn’t entirely sure I was allowed to be there.

I stepped carefully, oh so carefully, up to the coffin and placed a hand on the lid. Carefully, oh so carefully, I opened it.

Dust inside. Nothing but dust.

A hand touched my shoulder. I jumped.

It was the blonde woman, the security guard from before. “I’m sorry, sir, but this is not your party.”

“You call this a party?” I smiled. “Looks like this guy had a little too much fun.”

“Emory walked into the sun yesterday,” she said. “He was a friend.”

My mouth went dry. “Oh,” I said. “I’m sorry.”

She looked down into the dust. “Sir, your party is to be laid out in room three. The body is still being prepared, and won’t be available for viewing prior to the service.”

I coughed. “Yes, I see.”

“So you really should get the hell out of here, shouldn’t you?” She looked at me with glowing red eyes. Damn, these demons. I wondered if my eyes ever did this. I’d been told yes, they did, but I’d never noticed. I didn’t think I was an actual demon, though. Just a guy with a demon inside. Was there a difference, though? Had this lady ever been alive, like me?

Did she want to grab a cup of coffee after this?

Dammit, I screamed at the demon inside. Shut up for once, and quit chasing every piece of tail that comes your way!

I smiled at those demonic eyes. “Couldn’t I just wait in room three?”

She glared. “For three hours?”

I shrugged. “I’ve got nowhere else to be.” Where I wanted to be was with the stone. This looked like as close as I was going to get. Unless…

Unless I could get her to take me to the body. The demon inside me liked the idea. We’d been all about the idiot ideas lately.

I looked down at the dust. “This friend of yours. Know him long?”

She looked down, her eyes turning back to a chocolate brown that looked absolutely stunning with her blonde hair. “Not long. A year. But we were close,” she said. “He was sort-of my…”

“Lover?” I said.

She smiled. “I was going to say ‘boyfriend,’ but your word seems more appropriate.”

I nodded. “I’ve lost those before.”

She nodded back. “Me two. You’d think after two hundred years, I’d get use to it.”

“One-fifty for me,” I said. “And I don’t know that you ever do.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “This one I thought would stick around a while. Vampire, you know. Immortal?” She huffed. “Yeah, right.”

“What happened? I mean, if you don’t mind me asking?”

She shook her head. “I’m not sure. He never let on that he was depressed, or that he was done living. The other day, he just handed me the keys to his apartment, gave me a kiss, and said not to wait up.”

“Wow,” I said. “That’s heavy.”

“How did your friend die?” she asked. “I’m not on that detail, so I didn’t hear. I mean, if you don’t mind me asking.”

“Murder,” I said. “Nasty blood bath. All clawed up. Guts everywhere.”

She winced. At two hundred years, she could still wince at guts everywhere. I liked her.

“But they caught the guy, right?” she asked. “I heard they had someone.”

“Had,” I said. “That lizard guy, from the room. You remember?”

She nodded.

“He made bail,” I said. “And I just saw him, not ten minutes ago, creeping down the hall.” I left out the part about the drop kick to the nuts. “They have no proof he did it, but I’m just afraid he’s going to come back here and rip shit up.”

“You think he would?” she asked. “Why would he come here?”

“Because I have something I know he wants, and I think he may have some idea of where I hid it.”

“Where did you hide it?” Her brow knit. “Oh! I’m sorry. You shouldn’t tell me, right? I mean, if it’s hidden…”

I smiled. “It’s with the body,” I said. “I slipped it in the pocket of my friend’s suit. I figured it was as safe as any place.”

Her eyes went big. “You did not!”

“Did too.” I gave her my best bad-boy grin. “It’s there now. Or, at least it should be, if lizard-man doesn’t creep in there and steal it first.”

She slid an arm through mine. “Let’s go see!”

“What, now?” I said, gesturing at the coffin in front of us.

She took her arm back, and shut the coffin lid. “His service isn’t for another hour. Plenty of time to go make sure your item is secured. Better safe than sorry, I always say.” She patted the top of the coffin, then looked to me with a grin. “Want to get coffee?”

(Posts from the Author) Acceptance

I got an acceptance letter today.

A story--a fiction story--that I wrote--got accepted for publication.

Holy CRAP!

Yes, I am happy! Elated! Over the freakin' moon!!!!

Just like this...

I had a feeling about this one. It's a flash fiction piece, only 363 words, that I dashed off last week in a moment of inspiration. It was another one of those writer's flashes that I was going to let go, but made myself write down, because those flashes are my best ideas. Writers--listen to those! 

Is it my best work, ever? Of course not. Of course it's something I dashed off and had tremendous fun with. Of course it's something that I wrote while I was "supposed" to be working on another story. Of course it's something that I'm not entirely in love with, or invested in. And, of course, I submitted it somewhere else first and got turned down. And, because I'd been turned down again, and again, that turn-down didn't hurt so much... making way for my first fiction-piece acceptance, ever.

Man, I could fly!

Hang in there, fellow writers. Good things are coming to those who persevere. Keep throwing your stuff out there, because something's gonna stick.

Yours from the other side of the moon,
LLH