What I do is this. As soon as I wake up, I prepare myself with a normal morning routine, and then I sit down and write a story about whatever comes to mind. More often than not, it is a surprise. Many people call this “Flash Fiction”. This is Flash Fiction February.
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Miller Paul is a valiant optimist. There doesn’t seem to be much that can derail him from his efforts, in whatever he happens to be into. He does get himself into things. For some people, his sunny outlook is a little too much. No matter what happens, he always finds some way around a disappointment.
There is some debate whether this is always a good thing. Those close to him feel like perhaps it is in fact denial. Rather than glossing over a problem with some optimistic quip, it might be better to address it, that is what some people close to him might say.
There was a situation where Miller had a friend that passed away. He was sad, like everyone was, but his disposition was annoying. Let’s just say, he didn’t mourn well with others. Miller immediately went into a state that looked like callousness. He didn’t want to focus on the pain of loss, he wanted to focus on the maintenance of memories. “Let’s not focus on what we lost, let’s focus on the memories of what we had.” Among his peers, it was debatable as to the health of that sort of approach.
It was the same when he had issues with romantic relationships. They always seemed to end the same way. Miller would rant and rave about what a “great gal she was,” but he would never address the fact that she wouldn’t see him anymore. He would maintain a life goes on sort of attitude, but he would never do anything to see that change might be good.
There were even people who were concerned about Miller. It could become an issue if he continued to bury the disappointments and never really face them. It might be hard as he moved along in life, and at some point, the inner boil might bubble up to the surface.
“It’s getting dark kind of early today.” Miller said to Gene, one of his oldest and best friends, as they sat out on the patio of their favorite coffee shop in town.
“Oh yes, for sure. There’s an eclipse coming today.” Gene said.
“Well, that’s quite an event, what a nice surprise.” Miller opined.
“We may get a chance to see it if those clouds clear out a little.” Gene responded. “What’s the point of an eclipse on a cloudy day? Huh?”
“Everything has its purpose.” Miller said. “If we are meant to see the eclipse, then by golly, we will see it.”
No sooner did Miller get those words out of his mouth than the sky started to go even more dark. Storm clouds began to form and the sun and the moon were completely covered.
“I think we had better head for shelter.” Said Gene. The clouds are roiling black, and they, and everyone else on the patio, scatter. Some headed out to the street, some for the alley, presumably to get themselves to their cars and homes right away. Gene and Miller file into the coffee shop with a handful of other people, joining a sizable crowd inside.
“We should all sing a song!” Miller exclaims. People laugh, because they think Miller is joking. Gene laughs, because he knows he’s not joking. The pair decide to make a run for it to Miller’s house. It’s two blocks away.
They haven’t even gotten halfway across the street before a slight pattering of rain begins. Then a moment later, it is a torrent. They might as well not stop now. They keep running. They are laughing as they turn the corner onto Miller’s street. His house is visible down the street.
As they approach the house, there is a deafening crack of lightning and thunder. The lightning strikes Miller’s chimney and sends a large portion of it right through the old A-frame roof, through the attic, and into the living room. A couple of bricks are strewn through the window to the front lawn, at the feet of the two men standing there.
Miller is despondent. He’s looking at the bricks at their feet. Just then there is a break in the weather, some sun is shining through.
Gene consoles him. “Don’t worry Miller, look, the sun is coming out, some good can come of this, you’ll see.”
Miller raises his head slowly, he glowers under his brow at Gene. His eyes are roiling black.
The End731 Words
