Twittering Tales: Sleep Eating

Sleep Eating

He opened the refrigerator at 2 am and grabbed a large banana cream pie. He didn’t notice the taste of bitter almond as he scooped the pie up with his hands. Roger was sleep eating again; Trina knew he would go for the pie. She was counting on it.

(c) Rob Goldstein 2019

210 Characters

Header Photo by NRD at Unsplash

This is an entry for Kat Myrman’s Twittering Tales #136 – 14 May 2019

Twittering Tales Kat Myrman

Trina Woke From a Dream

Teagan Geneviene and I collaborated on a Trina story. Teagan sent visual prompts by Michael Whelan and we wrote lines based on the images.

I think Teagan may post the story to her blog. If she does, her version
may be different.

Trina Woke from a dream

Illustration of a victorian girl with fanciful moths
Trina woke from a dream

The Shadow Boy was coming to visit while she languished above a
labyrinth of verdant shrubs.

The Shadow Boy was intrigued when he saw a blond child with a bow
and arrow levitating outside the window of the monorail.

Was the blond child looking for his shadow? Could he catch it with his arrow?

The shadow boy examined the child for clues.

‘He’ had pixie ears and breasts.

This was not his boy.

Trina waved at the shadow boy and motioned for him to join her.

The boy hesitated. Trina wondered why: perhaps because the sun was going down.

The Shadow Boy shouldn’t be afraid of the dark, besides there’s a streetlight.

Trina decided it made no difference.

She still had Madison, but wait, where had Madison got to?

She was chasing a cluster of moths drawn to streetlight.

Madison out chasing moths? This was out of character.

“What’s wrong with you?” Trina asked.

“Nothing!” Madison scowled.

‘You’re chasing moths.”

“ They’re chasing me. Look at these holes!”

And it was true; Madison was full of holes.

(c) Rob Goldstein and Teagan R. Geneviene

 

 

 

Twittering Tales: A Midnight Storm

A Midnight Storm

These dark reflections.

Storm clouds gather on a
midnight tear through
San Francisco.

He wants the storm to last
forever; he wants to be
hidden and faceless: dead
without dying.

(c) Rob Goldstein 2019

162 Characters

This is an entry for Kat Myrman’s Twittering Tales #135 – 7 May 2019

Twittering Tales Kat Myrman
Weather Phenomenon, Photo by jplenio at Pixabay.com



For Willow.

Trina: ‘In the Land of Tall Thin Shadows’

Trina liked empty cities the best and this is her best memory of New York.

She looked up, the Sun rose, partially eclipsed by a big black Moon.

Trina sat primly on the only bench on Queens Boulevard when she saw the shadow of a little boy skipping rope.

She quickly opened her journal and wrote, ‘In the land of tall thin shadows’

Then she pulled a piece of chalk from her skirts, dropped to her hands and knees, and drew a hopscotch court.

The shadow boy stopped skipping rope and came closer.

Trina stood. “Hello,” she curtsied.  “I’m Trina, and you?”

“I am a child of the Universe,” replied the shadow boy.

“I see.” Trina searched the ground for a small stone to use as a marker. “You have a right to be here?”

The shadow boy shook his head, “Maybe yes, maybe no.”

Trina laughed: “Did you lose your boy?”

“I think so. Have you seen him?”

“This is my world. No one comes here, not even shadows.”

“I don’t have a right to be here?”

“Strictly speaking, no.”

Trina found a stone and tossed it onto the court.

“What happens when you vanish?” she asked.

“I don’t exist.” The shadow boy replied.

Trina was appalled. “You stop thinking?”

“I think so.”

“How awful!”

“But I always come back when the little boy goes out to play!”

“Always?”

“Yes.”

Trina reached up and hid the Sun behind her big black moon.

Queens Boulevard went black and the shadow boy was gone.

Trina was sad.

She reached into her skirts and found a torch, then she opened her journal and wrote, ‘They sleep without dreams’

An Illustration of the Shadow Boy at play in a Bird Cage in Virtual Reality
The Shadow Boy

‘In the Land of Tall Thin Shadows’ (c) Rob Goldstein, March 2019

‘Shadow Boy’ (C) Rob Goldstein March 2019

Header Image from pixabay

I wrote this for the March Speculative Fiction prompt on Myths of the Mirror. You can join here: https://mythsofthemirror.com/2019/03/01/march-speculative-fiction-prompt/

 

Dolls: A Nice Little House

Peter draws a skinny little boy named Tony and puts him in a cell.

Tony is more like his Mother than his Father.

Tony is more like his Mother than his self.

A doll’s eye fades to black.

Tony’s cell is really a nice little house in a forest of pink trees.

These things sometimes happen:

A garden of morning glories never opens.

A dead bee stabs the sole of your foot.

A giant toad leaps on your chest at midnight:

all the months of August in a row.

Rob Goldstein 1985-2019

February’s Speculative Fiction Prompt: Anjana and Trina

Each month Diana Wallace Peach issues an image as a prompt at her
blog, Myths of the Mirror. This is my SOC mashup of a response.

February’s Speculative Fiction Prompt from D. Wallace Peach
February’s Speculative Fiction Prompt

***

Anjana and Trina

Anjana the elephant wanted to know who caused the snow.

He hated snow and wanted it stopped.

In the distance, he saw a house resting lopsided in a baobab tree.

“Is that house crushing my tree?” Anjana muttered to himself.

He lumbered through the snow until he reached the house and peered
inside.

A little girl sat cross-legged on the floor with a notebook and pen.

The little girl looked up and smiled at Anjana.

“Hello…I’m Trina.”

Anjana stepped backward and bowed.

“I am Anjana,” he said.

Trina wrote his name in her notebook.

“Are you a munchkin?” she asked.

Anjana scratched his head with his trunk.

“No, I’m a demigod.”

“Pan?”

“NO!”

“I see.” Trina smiled. “If you had fingers you could snap them
and fix my house.”

“I don’t need fingers to fix your house!”

Anjana lifted the house from the tree with his mighty trunk and
set it gently on the ground.

“Oh thank you!” Trina said. “Where am I?”

“Milwaukee.”

“Do you have other powers?”

“Well…No. I used to hold up the World, but that was when it was flat.”

“Silly elephant! The World was never flat!”

This annoyed Anjana. “People thought it was flat, so it was flat!”

“That’s a good point!” said Trina.

Then she stood and shook her pen until it stretched and became
a wand.

“Shall I stop the snow?”

Anjana stared at Trina with wide eyes and slowly shook his head yes.

Trina waved her wand and shouted: “Snowmobilus! Stoppus!”

Anjana looked way from Trina and watched in awe as the snow slowly
stopped.

When he turned to thank Trina, she and the house were gone, replaced by
seven white mice dressed as elves.

(c) Rob Goldstein 2019