Sage’s Countdown to 2022 Flash Fiction Challenge thread

[Sage]

Yay, it's the most wonderful time of the year!

1. Drip by Drip (fallen icicles)
2. The Scientific Method (a single footprint in the snow)
3. Across the Bridge (slippery)
4. The Coziest Sweater (the coziest)
5. Last Request (wool socks)

 

[Sage]

1. Fallen icicles

Drip by Drip​

Ashish hugged her knees to her chest as she watched another drop of water slide down the biggest of the icicles hanging from her roof. The icicles had been there her whole life, forming during the last sun season and serving as extra decoration to the house. She loved the way the lamp light down the road shone in the rounded, clear surface of the icicles, moving her head back and forth to make the light dance. She had done a lot of deep thinking, staring at these icicles from her bedroom as she grew up.


Those who had lived for the last sun season had promised her that she would love it, but she had never known anything but the night and the cold. It would still be cold, they promised her, but she wouldn’t have to bundle up quite as much. And the sun, oh, the sun! they’d exclaimed, almost rapturous in their memories of that yellow ball in the sky. It was far brighter than any light Ashish had been exposed to, even in the brightest room. Too bright, if you asked her. The sky was an entirely different color! No black of the night season, full of occasional purples and greens and turquoises. No. This was pure uninterrupted light blue. Did the others not just get bored?


But the icicles. Her icicles. The heat of the sun didn’t just warm the air. It absorbed into her roof, caused the ice to melt. Soon her icicles would fall, they told her. There’d be more. New ones. Icicles that would last through the entire night season that followed this sun season. They told her to enjoy the sun while she could.


For now, she would just watch her icicles melt, as if her entire world was slipping away into something new.

 

[Sage]

2 - A single footprint in the snow

The Scientific Method​

The kids surrounded the indentation in the snow, studying it as if they were scientists discovering a new virus in their lab.

Jadon got on his hands and knees to check out any designs inside the shape. It was vaguely boot-shaped, but he didn’t see any tread. Besides which, the boot would have to be size, like, 20, and there was only one mark in the snow. Where did this ginormous man (or woman!) step before and after this one? Jadon hopped up and told the others his findings. “But it can’t be a footprint. There’s just one.”

“Unless the person is soooooo tall, their next step is miles away,” Lauren suggested. The kids all looked up at the sky as if the person might still be there.

“Miles?” asked Gary. “The foot would be much bigger.”

“I don’t think it looks like a foot,” said boy Taylor. “Maybe the person was on stilts. That makes more sense. Small foot but long legs.”

“You think we wouldn’t notice if someone came through on stilts?” Elizabeth asked, always ready to torpedo a theory. “I would notice stilts. Or, at least, one stilt.”

“Yeah, one!” Derek bounced from foot to foot, not just from excitement. His own feet were getting cold. “Maybe it was a pogo stick. Like in the cartoons! Like Tigger’s tail!”

Girl Taylor rolled her eyes. “You’re all so sure it’s a person. It’s a bird that landed, then took off.”

“Or a ball that bounced somewhere else,” said Gary.

“Would a ball bounce? Wouldn’t it still be in the snow?” wondered Casey aloud.

From her bedroom window, Maria watched the group, wishing she could be out there with them. She’d been stuck in quarantine for a week already, and she was sick of it (though no longer feeling sick, thank goodness). She’d tried to entertain herself by doing a trick she saw on the internet, throwing hot water into the freezing air and watching it turn into snow before it hit the ground. Unfortunately, when she threw that bowl of hot water out of her window, it did nothing but splash into the snow below it, making a weird shape. Experiment failure.

Oh well, at least her friends were hanging outside having fun examining her failure. If they were really lucky, she’d wait until they were gone before trying again with cold water.

 

[Sage]

3 - slippery

Across the Bridge​

“Challengers will line up,” the Great Master called. Her voice carried over the town, as if every potential challenger wasn’t already standing at the edge of the cliff, waiting for their chance to prove they had what it took to become one of the wizards of Moka. Only one person in each generation was allowed to join, and all they had to do was make it across the bridge that spanned from the town to the Library on the higher side of the canyon. Every teen in Moka was invited to try, but once they turned twenty, they were considered too old to start training.

A different challenge was given to each generation. Supposedly, as soon as a teen made it across, there wouldn’t be another challenge for another 20 years. Baeda considered herself lucky that she made it to her teens before someone else got across the bridge.

She’d watched every challenge since she was six, so she knew what it entailed. Crossing the bridge seemed easy enough, even at an incline, but as soon as a challenger started up it, they would find it too slippery to get very far. Most ended up sliding back to the town side of the crevasse. If any slipped over the edge, there were wizards ready to use a spell to stop their fall and return them to solid ground before they reached the rushing river at the bottom of the canyon.

“The first challenger may proceed,” said the Grand Master. “He or she has the time allowed to reach the other side. Good luck.”

A bunch of zeroes lit up in the sky above her head. She lifted her hand and they began to count up. Helo was the first to try. He took the bridge at a run. Most did, trying to beat the clock and defeat the incline. It took only a few footfalls before he had slid back down to the bottom.

Helo was slight, but Erys, who was next, was heavier built, and had always claimed that that would help her get solid footing on the bridge. She worked hard to build her muscles in the past year, thinking that she’d be able to defeat the slipperiness this year. Baeda could tell how hard her muscles were working as she took to the bridge at a sprint. But, no, it took only four steps, and her foot slipped out sideways. She was the first to tumble off the side. Erys grabbed for the lip of the bridge, succeeding in catching hold of it before falling, but her chance was over. She let the wizards levitate her back to the town side of the canyon.

And so it went.

Luni bent over, grabbing the sides of the bridge as she tried to plow her way up it, but she found the edges too slippery to grab ahold of.

Avil tried to march his way up, and was the second to fall off the side.

Hamil thought he’d be smart to try to swing a rope around one of the struts that stuck up over the side of the bridge at the halfway mark. Indeed, his rope trick worked, tightening at the strut and giving him leverage to climb the bridge. He took careful steps with his feet flat and solid on the bridge, using his arm strength to do much of the work. Baeda held her breath. She’d never seen anyone get so far as the midway point, and Hamil seemed destined to make it.

When he reached one minute, the Grand Master announced it. Nobody had stayed on the bridge so long to make that landmark time frame, but Hamil’s steps still seemed solidly on the surface of the bridge as he pulled himself up hand by hand.

“Two minutes!” the Grand Master called. Hamil’s face, so red a second ago, seemed to blanch. Two minutes seemed awfully long. What’s the time frame anyway? Baeda wondered. She thought back to the beginning of the challenge and realized the Grand Master hadn’t announced how long the time allowed was. For all any of them knew it was minutes. Hours. Days.

Whatever Hamil thought it was, he sped up. His hands still held as tight to the rope as he pulled himself up, but his feet were starting to give with each step. Sweat poured down his face as he started working even faster. It was his downfall. His right foot slipped out from under him, and he fell onto his belly, sliding over the edge and hanging in the air from his rope until the wizards helped him.

Baeda watched the next few challengers carefully. The faster they went, the sooner they fell. When it came to her turn, she toed the edge of the bridge and nodded at the Grand Master to start the clock.

She took a step with her right and then brought her left to it. And waited. There were murmurs behind her as she didn’t move for a full minute. Not-so-quiet whispers of whether she’d lost her nerve, if she would step off the bridge in the next second, if she was petrified to take another step. But when the Grand Master called out the first minute, Baeda stepped again. And waited. Again and again, she stepped forward with each foot, then waited for the Grand Master to call out the next minute. Her steps were easy, no sign of slippage beneath them. She reached halfway. Passed halfway. It took over an hour, but she finally was one step away from the Library’s side of the canyon. It was the longest minute ever, but she didn’t want to be the fool who rushed one step away from the goal and slid back down to the bottom.

Finally, she took that last step. As soon as both feet touched the earth, she whirled around to see the town cheering on the other side of the canyon.

“Congratulations,” said the Grand Master, who appeared at Baeda’s side. “A wizard must be observant and use their mind first and foremost. Discerning the rules of the magic you face is the most important part of learning them. We have deemed you qualified to become the wizard of generation. Come.” She gestured to the Library. “We have much to teach you.”

 

[Sage]

4 - the coziest

(Spoilers! Just in case Maggie shows up)

The Coziest Sweater​

Lawrence

“It’s freeeezing!” I dance from foot to foot, trying to warm up as we walk from the car to the mall. “You didn’t tell me that it was freezing in December.”

Blake rolls his eyesand doesn’t bother responding. We both know I grew up in Ohio, and that even though I had like seventy years of not feeling the cold, Blake has complained about freezing temperatures every winter since he inherited my ghost.

But ghosts don’t feel cold—unless something’s gone really wrong—so this chill sinking down into my bones and biting at my fingers and toes and nose still feels foreign to me, now that I’m human again. I swear, I can barely feel my fingers. They’re ghosting me, I think.

“Blakey, be my sweater.” I throw myself at him dramatically.

“Oh, my God.” He stops walking and completely tenses up as my arms wrap around him.

“People can see me,” I remind him.

He lets out a breath in one long jet of steam that’s not quite his usual sigh. “Yeah. People can see us.” He takes another deep breath and nods.

He’s still getting over his fear of being in love with a boy, much less showing it in public. Showing any feelings in public. Showing any feelings. It’s hard for him. That’s why I have to tease him into submission.

“You should buy me a sweater. Then I won’t have to use you.”

“I’m a pretty poor sweater,” he says.

I tuck myself under his arm. “Nuh uh. You’re the coziest sweater I’ve had in—“

“Decades?” he guesses.

“Aww, you’re finishing my sentences. So romantic.”

“You are ridiculous.” He tries to hide a smile, and I know I’ve gotten him. The thing is that he doesn’t have to be romantic. I can do all the work for the two of us.

“Everyone knows I couldn’t be your sweater. But…” He tilts his head from side to side, like he’s considering something, then takes both my hands. Warmth sinks into them, bringing feeling back into my fingers, and my heart warms to match. “I’m okay with being your mittens.”

So maybe I don’t have to do all the work.

 

[Sage]

5 - wool socks

Last Request​

Having finally spotted their prey, the bounty hunter crouched low in the grass to avoid detection. They focused the sight of their gun on the heart. Dead or alive, the notice had said, and they were always willing to bring in a bounty that they didn’t have to restrain, feed, or take care of. Especially one as strange as this one.

The bounty seemed docile enough, standing there, eating some local plant life. Was this really worth five million blossoms. If the empire was willing to pay it, they weren’t going to complain.

They were about to pull the trigger when a ship entered the atmo, with a resounding crack. The animal startled and ran off into the woods that surrounded the valley. Blast. They had gotten a jump on the animal, but now they’d have to track it with competition on their heels. Such a lot of fuss for one small fluffy bounty.

#​

“The emperor wants to know why the prisoner isn’t being executed today,” demanded the Imperial In-Between. “He demands to know why the schedule can’t be adhered to this time.”

“It’s the same problem as last week.” The Guard sighed. One prisoner has become the single most difficult charge in her life. “We can’t grant his last wish. If we can’t grant the last wish, we can’t execute him. The treatment of death ward prisoners is the emperor’s law!”

“The wish has to be grantable! This is clearly an impossible wish!” Her face grew red with fury at the way this prisoner was flaunting the emperor’s own law in order to get out of being executed. “What is the wish?”

“Wool socks.” The Guard cursed the day those words had left the prisoner’s mouth. “Just like his grandmother made. Wool’s a material made out of certain coats of Earth mammals—“

“I know what wool is!” Although it was highly unlikely that the Imperial In-Between did. “We destroyed all the animals on this world to make room for ours. This is an impossible request. It is, therefore, invalid.”

“It’s not.” The Guard sighed again. It was practically her go-to expression now. “The prisoner overheard another talking about their illegal sheep that she set loose when she was captured. There’s at least one still running around down on the planet. We have our best bounty hunters on the job. We’ve found a human who can prepare and weave the socks. We just need the fur.”

The Imperial In-Between let out a scream of frustration. “I hope he is suffering from very cold feet in that prison.”

#​

The prisoner lounged on his bed in the surprisingly luxurious death ward. He hadn’t known when he made the request that they treated their soon-to-be-executed with great care before their death. But he was glad he made the request. He could stand a few more days of plush beds and good food before the emperor finally got his way.

Wool socks. Just like his grandmomma made. Ridiculous. His grandmomma was an investment banker who never touched a piece of clothing that wasn’t completely synthetic.

Besides which. His cybernetic feet came standard with their own shoes. He couldn’t put on a pair of socks if he wanted.

 

[Sage]

6 - colored lights

Father/Daughter Bonding Activity​

Have you seen my ship race? Trust me, you’d remember it if you saw it.

This is what happens when you tell a six-year-old that she can decorate Daddy’s new spacecraft however she wants. What should I care? I’m going to be inside the thing piloting. These aren’t Earth-bound vehicles, where you look out your window and admire someone’s paint job while stuck on a road behind them. The number one way this ship will be seen is as a dot on other people’s scanning equipment. Let it be pink or purple or green with yellow kitty cats. I’ll only see it when I dock.

Calla had the time of her life. Teal was her choice, and we had a great bonding activity painting the entire ship together, she and I. She added the occasional heart in gold—adorable misshapen things that you might recognize as hearts, at least. To every surface that wasn’t smooth (the handles, the antenna, the legs). Then she wanted to add the lights. “Like Christmas!” she said excitedly. “Why not?” I said. We must have used every color of light in the universe, but her favorite were the flashing pink strips that she lined everything with. Don’t worry, you can find the door to my ship. It’s blinking at you. Which side has the landing gear? Just look for the pink.

The trick was getting all these lights affixed and wired so that they’d work even in space and I wouldn’t lose them at the high speeds my craft can go.

And my spacecraft is a fast little bastard. Maybe the lights caught his attention, but Elyas Drame decided that it was fast enough to race in the NGHAL and paid me a tidy sum for it. Well, once I won that, everyone wanted me to race for them, but Drame pays the best

Sometimes I win. Sometimes I lose. But all eyes are upon my ship.

I hope Calla’s as proud of her work as I am.

 

[Sage]

7 - so much chocolate

(A sequel to Stronger than Brownies and Stronger than Sugar (and in my Hero/Villain-verse, in general))

Stronger than Chocolate​

Ace

I tighten the bolt and recheck my calculations. The machine must be tuned perfectly. This is the year that I will conquer the neighborhood. I’ll admit that the first year, I was unprepared, and that last year, I gave in to uncertainty. But this year, I, Ace Starr, master inventor, have created the ultimate machine for baking a giant batch of perfect brownies.

“Done!” I announce to whoever’s in earshot. I’m hoping my dad will come downstairs to praise my hard work. Come to think of it, I’m not sure my dad even knows about the neighborhood tradition of passing out sweets to each other. He’s usually gone this time of year for conferences.

“Hoo-ray!” Bug leaps onto my back, and thank goodness he’s as tiny as his name suggests because he practically knocks me off balance as it is. “Can we try it out? I really loved that one you made last year.”

I grimace. Last year’s machine was a disaster. Not only did it almost blow up, but the single brownie it made was so packed with sugar I’m sure it single-handedly gave me a cavity. That’s the only explanation for the cavity I had when I went to the dentist. Ask anybody: my smile is perfect.

Sigh. Well, it was when I was a supervillain supermodel.

I derail that thought with every trick my therapist had given me. Dwell too much on lost looks, lost body parts, and lost powers and I might get lost myself in darker times. I want to stay present, here with my family. At Christmas. I’m stronger than my PTSD. I’m stronger than supervillain me!

“Let’s start her up, and take over the world with chocolate!” I say.

“Yes!” Bug jumps off my back and starts running around the kitchen, grabbing ingredients out of the cupboards.

I was cleverer this year. We don’t have to measure anything. The machine will do it for us. We just have to make sure we put in a lot of everything. Before we throw it into the shoot, I doubled…triple-check the list. We have all the ingredients. The machine’s already programmed with the recipe. It’s time to go.

“You put them in. I’ll supervise.”

Bug is happy to oblige. He was such a good little minion when I cared about things like that. Now he’s just my little brother. He takes all the ingredients off the counter and puts them down the shoot. The machine makes a happy little purr. A big improvement over last year’s machine already.

I press the button to start the process with my good hand, then step back. I know it will work. But it’s still good to take precautions.

After about twenty minutes, the machine spits out a brownie into the bin I’ve prepared. Just one? How the hell does this keep happening?

Bug tears it in half and takes a bite. “Oh, my God, it’s perfect.”

“That’s what you said last year,” I say with a laugh. But when I bite into my half, I preen over the taste. I really did get it perfect this year. Just sweet enough with a gooey chocolate center, baked to perfection, even the size is exactly right for the richness of this particular brownie. But still just one.

“Okay, it’s time to turn it up to eleven.” I alter the settings to maximum output. Just like I hoped, more brownies pop out of the machine. Soon the bin is full, and I cut the power.

I think I cut the power.

The power doesn’t seem to be actually cut off…

Brownies continue flying out of the machine, now overflowing the bin and taking over the kitchen floor. Bug stands there, eyes wide in shock or wonder, I’m not sure which. He’s up to his ankles in brownies. The kid is going to get buried if he doesn’t move. I grab his arm and pull him into the living room. Not that we’ll be safe here for long. The brownies are spilling through the door.

Great. If I don’t act now, our house is going to be fuller of chocolate than a Easter bunny.

“Wish I had superpowers,” I say. I consider calling Evie, but my superhero girlfriend probably wouldn’t know what to do with the machine, no matter how she changed her body to get through the mountain of sweets.

“Oh, are we done? Did you want it to stop?” asks Bug. He clearly did not realize the danger he was in the way I did.

“Yes!”

He wiggles his fingers at me, and for the first time in ages, I remember that Bug still does have powers. He never uses them, but he never lost them.

Brownies tumble down a hill of their own making and roll to our feet. The machine’s hardly visible anymore. Soon, we’d have to swim through a sea of baked goods to get to it. “Shoot the machine!”

He aims his fingers and says, “Pew pew,” just because he’s ridiculous like that. Lightning bolts shoot from them and graze the top of the machine. Nothing changes.

And then suddenly, there’s a pop and a sizzle, and everything goes dark and quiet. “I didn’t do it!” Bug cries, though I suspect that actually he did. Unless the machine just overloaded the circuit and fried it itself.

“Ace? What’s going on?” Dad yells from upstairs. I mean, fair. I am the most likely suspect to cause a power outage in this house.

I consider the mountain of brownies and what he’s going to think when he comes to check out what’s up. “Nothing, Dad. Only, we’re totally going to win the neighborhood treat exchange!”