Lionhearted – For 99 words on mice

Lionhearted

By Nan Mykel

I smell a cat in the house.  That means my time on earth is limited.

Hmmn. What can I contribute to the world during my shortened lifespan?

I know!  The stepfather who sneaks into his stepson’s room at night silently, on tiptoes to molest him!

There he is, stealthily approaching the sleeping boy.  Now on his knees, pulling back the covers. Strike now!  Nails extended, I rush up his feet, up his legs and high on his head. I dive triumphantly onto the boy, whose screams are echoed by the perpetrator.

Lights throughout the house.

Goodbye mouselife, hello glory.

About Nan Mykel

I used to think I would be a child prodigy, but then I got old. Formerly I had fantasies of rubbing elbows with cultural and academic leaders but that did not come to pass because I did not become a cultural or academic leader or any other kind of leader, for that matter. I am not even an "Alpha Dog," a term learned from a friend who had to become "Alpha Dog" in order to influence her own pet. (When gazes lock, she never looks away.) For years I expected to become a published author, but in passing I could not avoid the fact that I had little to contribute to the world's bulging dumpsters. I'm embarrassed to report that I also considered my primary process artistic productions powerful, rather than mildly neurotic. Which is not to say that I disrespect myself, only that I am beginning to doubt my potential for making a mark on the world. If I focus on strict self discipline I may be able to keep my garbage removed on a weekly basis, to keep the kitty box changed, the clothes cleaned, the dog watered, fed and walked, but that just catches me up to the starting mark again. When writing I physically grapple with words, wrestling them from their indifference into attempted chunks of awareness. I sit heavily on my chair; I breathe in artificially cooled air; my ear drums note the tap tap of the keyboard and the steady uninterrupted sound of the air conditioner, What is that sound? The roar of the ocean from 30 yards away...Inside, my thoughts are are balls in an electronic game machine, bouncing hither and yon from lever to lever. I am a little grim and intent until I recall a dream related by a black man in the prison where I once worked. He said that when he was a small boy, back home, he dreamed he was standing on his front porch pissing, and that he suddenly found himself pissing stars...
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4 Responses to Lionhearted – For 99 words on mice

  1. Hi. Thank you for coming by my blog and reading. Here is the link to the Carrot Ranch prompt. I appreciate your lionhearted writing.
    https://carrotranch.com/2019/03/08/march-7-flash-fiction-challenge/

    Liked by 1 person

  2. jilldennison says:

    And he went out in a blaze of glory, having saved a young heart. Excellent!

    Like

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