New Flash Fiction: Boredom and Barking at Squirrels

We've two stories now from Kalamazoo-based William Aksel. The first was as an assignment when he attended the six week Odyssey speculative writing workshop. The objective was to show boredom without using the word 'bored'. We think he did that and also made it fun. The second story confirms the theory that dogs are smarter than their owners! In addition to writing, William is a spec fiction artist – his website is at www.williamakselart.com


An End to Ennui

Robert sat on  the floor, tracing the patterns in the carpet with his fingers. First circling to the left, then circling to the right. The clock on the mantle, crowded close with vases and painted porcelain statues, ticked a steady division of time.  

His father cleared his throat, covering his mouth like you were supposed to. Robert exhausted the novelty of the carpet and explored the wallpaper. He turned around to get a better look at the closer wall behind him, but his mother tapped him on the top of his head and motioned him to face front.

He wore down a few moments fervently wishing he could wear long pants; the wool of the carpet made his legs itch. He wiggled his foot until his father rustled his paper to get his attention, frowning the whole time. Dust motes floated aimlessly near the flower print curtains. Even the cat stopped twitching his tail.

If something doesn't happen in the next five minutes, I'm going to explode, he thought.

Half an hour later, the dust motes were again floating aimlessly, this time above the crater. Smoke drifted sluggishly beyond the rubble. Somewhere in the distance a dog barked.


Barking at Squirrels

Sometimes I thought I could almost understand Sandy as she barked at the squirrel chattering at her from the safety of a branch well beyond her reach. This contention had been going on every summer for a couple years now, at least I thought it had. Maybe it was a different squirrel from last year, considering how short-lived they are. Two, maybe three years max, as I understand it. It’s not like they have distinctive markings, not like Sandy does. And that’s not even considering her magenta hair tint or her tattoos. Fortunately she had a pellet gun and good aim. If I knew her, and I did, she was getting tired of the rivalry and had decided to end it.

I wasn’t happy to see the squirrel killed, but I hoped that might end her vegetarian kick once and for all. I really like meat. I wagged my tail to encourage her.