experimental literature
Fiction
They wear their hearts on their drugs and say everything is fine while they die a little each day, everyone their own Atlas and Sisyphus.
This story is part of a series of weekly flash fiction posts. The title and story are inspired by the results of a random word generator.
Hakon had never liked caves. He didn’t change his mind once he began working on an archaeological site in one. Alas, Hakon was a traveling barista and had to go where the money was.
Hakon loved coffee. He loved travel. And so he hauled beans and tools where ever the wind took him. He quickly fell into a circuit of visiting colleges. It was at one such college that he met Laura.
Laura was an anthropology student with an upcoming internship doing field work with at an archaeological site. The entire team loved Hakon’s coffee.
And so Hakon found himself in a cave with sweaty hands passing out mugs of piping-hot coffee. His fear mingled with the damp air, resulting in a clinical case of butterfingers the moment the aureate daphne was unearthed.
And so it was destroyed before Laura could realize why this was mysterious. It was destroyed before she could fathom what she had found. She put it down, thinking it nothing of significance.
Hakon blinked and found himself on a beach, dragging his feet through sand, frantically searching for a can.
This story is part of a series of weekly flash fiction posts. The title and story are inspired by the results of a random word generator.
“You’re never going to find it,” she said.
“If you’re not going to help, then why did you come?” I asked.
“To watch you suffer,” she said, trying to laugh. “It’s just a can, someone probably threw it away.”
“There’s so much other trash still on the beach, though.”
“Why do you even want this?”
I ignored her and returned my focus to the beach. I was dragging my feet through the sand, hoping to pull up my trash from yesterday. “This is where we were, right?”
“Oh my god, who cares? Let’s just leave! It’s a can! An empty can! Why in the world are you doing this?”
“It’s a talisman, OK?” I finally told her.
She stared at me with no warmth in her eyes, no expression on her face.
“I got it a long time ago…”
Still nothing. I turned back to the sand, not knowing how much to explain, or what I was trying to explain.
“I didn’t mean to bring it here. The thing is, I really can’t let people see the symbol on the bottom. It exposes me.”
I paused, looking into the sand and considered if “expose” was the right word.
I looked up and she was gone. I was surrounded by figures in black, and my day at the beach came to an end.
This story is part of a series of weekly flash fiction posts. The title and story are inspired by the results of a random word generator.