Gently Home

Seagulls arced lazy turns as an angry ocean pounded my listing fishing boat. Separated, the submerged boat lights cast a green glow around me, making the ocean even darker as the light trailed into abyss. Floating, my thoughts went to all life in the ocean, reacting, surviving, inching slowly along the ooze and undulating mid-water with goals ingrained. Ocean smell, thick with sea spray and sargassum, cradled me like a childless mother. Dipping below the horizon, the boat disappeared, sunset style, leaving me with only the immensity of space. Gazing at weightless gulls, the blue mire pulled me gently home.

From Guest Contributor Wes Keller

The Man Who Knew Too Much

They came from miles around to ask him questions and he always answered truly. It seemed to those visitors that he knew everything. At least, no one could ever remember a question stumping him. He was worth every penny.

It was different for those who knew him. At first, they had been amazed of course. How did he know so much? But after a while, the novelty wore off and he began to get cocky, lording it over them how much smarter he was. And really, it was just plain awkward to be around someone who knew everything about you.

Picasso Painted Dinosaurs Now On Sale

Entropy Squared is happy to announce that our first collection of microfiction is now available in ALL major ebookstores. You can purchase it from Amazon, iTunes, Barnes and Noble and pretty much anywhere else you might want to buy an eBook.

The book is called Picasso Painted Dinosaurs, and it sells for the low and extremely reasonable price of $2.00. It features original artwork by Seattle artist Mike Simon. It includes 100 100 word stories, plus two essays on finding inspiration and writing flash fiction. I can promise there's something for everyone. If you don't like it, I will make you a pancake breakfast.*

Here are the links:

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And as an added thank you to all of you for your support, here is a picture of Vicki from Small Wonder:

Thanks for your support.

*Pancake Breakfast is subject to you being in my kitchen. I don't make house calls. Also, this guarantee is not legally binding. Please don't sue me.

Lucky Swing

The door opened. Selena, ready with the letter opener, attacked. She stabbed Stan right through the eye. He died instantly, falling slowly backwards in a tightly drawn arc.

It was a lucky swing. She was hoping to startle him just long enough that she could get past him and run for freedom. She wasn't trying to kill him.

And then she realized something was wrong. Stan wasn't wearing his black leather jacket and black denim jeans. He was dressed in a grey suit with a blue dress shirt. It wasn't Stan at all.

It was Richard.

Part Thirteen

Nerve

She waited in the closet while tightly clutching the letter opener to her chest. She'd never killed anyone--never come close really, unless you count the car accident and she'd been drunk so she never did. But she was going to kill Stan, or at least hurt him really bad. She knew she had to do it quickly, as soon as the door opened, because if she saw his face she'd lose her nerve. Not that he didn't deserve to die, but she'd be too scared.

She heard footsteps, so she stood next to the door, her whole body tense.

Part Twelve

The Letter Opener

As the minutes stretched on, Selena wondered how long she would be abandoned in the dark. She could hear distant shouting and decided to look for a means of escape.

Throwing herself against the door convinced her she'd never be able to barge her way free and instead she began searching through the contents of the closest. Richard had kept a revolver in an old shoebox, but she had gone for that immediately and it was no longer there.

Other than the books and files, there was little that could prove useful. Until she found the letter opener.Part Eleven

Mutiny

Stan dragged Selena by the elbow through the front door of the mansion house. They both knew something was wrong. There wasn't anyone to be seen, not even a body, as if the house had been abandoned.

"Looks like we have a mutiny on our hands." Stan slapped her across the face, but the sting was worth getting him to lower his mask of detachment. Stan forced her up to Richard's office and locked her in the closet.

"I'll come back for you later."

Selena sat down on a stack of unread books and plotted her escape.Part Ten

Misdirection

Stan took Selena's proposal as nothing more than a desperate joke, or perhaps a flailing attempt to save herself from his vengeance. But in reality it was only meant as a distraction. Selena wanted him to believe she was scared and desperate. She wanted him to underestimate her again.

"Til' death do you part, Selena? Richard would have expected you to at least shed a tear on his behalf."

"Richard never cared about me. He never appreciated me, not the way you do, right Stan?"

"It's not going to work."

Selena smiled. It already was working.

Part Nine

Small Talk

"Tell me what happened."

Stan may not have liked small talk, but he always enjoyed discussing his own exploits.

"Your husband gave me a choice. I could admit what I'd done or he'd torture me until I did. Neither option seemed very appealing, so I disarmed Tony and shot the both of them and threw them out the window. Their bodies are still laying on the front walk. I'll take you to see them when we get back."

Stan didn't know how to be subtle. But neither did she.

"So do you want to get married?"Part Eight

Silence

The drive back to the mansion house was long. Selena found it unendurable, but not because of what was waiting for her.

It was the silence she couldn't abide. She abhorred silence. She needed music or television playing in the background at all times or she'd fill the emptiness with whatever twitter occurred to her in the moment. Most people found the chatter annoying, but Richard had thought it endearing, which was odd, because for the most part he hated anyone who talked too much in his presence.

The fact Richard was dead made the silence especially interminable.

Part Seven