Inhumanity: A Tidbit of Life
This is one of my flash fiction pieces, published in Tiny Moments Volume III, available via Bronze Bird Books.
Tiny Moments includes “gems where the mundane becomes extraordinary and the familiar, surreal” capturing “the essence of fleeting moments, unseen worlds, and human resilience.” Stories offer “glimpses into the beauty of imperfection, the bittersweet nature of memory, and the finer edges of endurance. From poems that adopt the perspective of insects as miniscule adventurers to heartfelt evaluations of grief and loss …”
One of my drabbles, “Ultimate Compulsion,” appeared in Tiny Moments Volume I.
This short slice should take you less than a minute to ingest.
The Story
Inhumanity
You brush a stray crumb off your snakeskin tie as you scan the ghastly news report on your tablet.
You summon the garçon. You read to him about 201 emaciated dogs, some with broken bones, that authorities seized from a farm about an hour away. You slurp one more spoonful of shark-fin soup and criticize the cruelty of the farmers. You belch, dripping saliva onto your calfskin vest. You curse the damn server when he doesn’t proffer a replacement napkin quickly enough.
Then, you cram several deep-fried baby calamari into your mouth and continue reading aloud to him, insisting that he stand at your table until you’ve finished the story. You spear a piece of rare veal with your fork, maintaining your monologue through a mouthful of red. You lament the inability of the vets to save one undernourished puppy, and denounce their decision to euthanize another.
Finally, you push your half-finished plate away and grab your dessert.
And as you resume your rant about the inhumanity of man, you don’t notice the giant globule of spit shimmering on the surface of your rennet custard.
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I understand this story to be a commentary on our society. Gluttony, ignorance, and self absorption prevail in the story as it does in our world. Good job.
Thanks, Luther.
I have been marveling at your ability to craft a sentence, paragraph or page for years. Some are so horrific, reflex slams my eyes shut, fearful I will see another word.
Such was ” Inhumanity”. I am afraid that vision of….I don’t want to type it…will be with me most of the day. Oh, could it be so easy as to shake your head and make it go away.
A writer I am not but I just couldn’t resist the vision of my eyes slamming shut.
I did write a novel many years ago. My husband was fearful I was being too “purple” or “flowery” so I tried not to be. I have decided I am going to rewrite “Sandcastles” being as purple as I wish. I think that will be very entertaining. Don’t you?
Helen Campbell
Sedona, Arizona.
Thanks so much, Helen.
Don’t worry too much about what family members say. Stick with your writer’s voice, and create what sounds right to you.
Good luck with the novel!
:0
LOL. Surprise? Shock?
Thanks for reading it, Vivienne.
Oh Kathy,
What a wry, grateful turn of the knife, to conclude that smug diner’s entitled feast.
Thanks for starting my day with a wonderful, laugh-out-loud moment.
Bless you!
Thanks, Chris, for starting my day with a wonderful encouraging moment.