Flash Fiction: Potential

Competition

I used to love to take part in the flash fiction competitions held on the Escape Artists Forums. I think I have mentioned that before. I would read and re-read every entry, and vote in each round. The work of writing the actual flash fiction stories was instrumental in my development as a writer but reading and critiquing literally hundreds of flash stories over the years also helped me understand what to avoid and what to emulate. If you are an aspiring writer, you could do a lot worse than to take part in contests like this. It looks like the last one they held was a couple of years ago so they are about due for another one soon. Also, if you win, they reproduce it on one of their podcasts! Check them out at the link above.

Anyway, this is one of my more successful efforts. “Potential” got to the semi-finals of the contest for Escape Pod in 2018. I hope you enjoy it, dear reader.

Potential

by Ronan McNamee

“Do you remember the Earth, Momma?” Kevin bounced between ceiling and floor. Liberty couldn’t watch without nausea nibbling. She stood before their darkened porthole, preparing silver-packed lunches.

She sighed. “How many times, Kev? Why keep asking this question?”

Kevin’s reflection shrugged in the porthole.

Liberty knew why: he didn’t believe her answer. To her son, Earth was Heaven, the Happy Hunting Grounds, Valhalla; but he believed in it utterly. Of course he didn’t believe her.

“Did you ever see a bison, Momma?” Kevin performed his final dismount from the ceiling, not with a flourish but with a fart.

“Kevin!”

“I couldn’t help it!”

Shaking her head, suppressing giggles, Liberty rhymed off her standard response: “The bisons are all gone, my love, just like the pandas, turtles, codfishes. That Earth is dying, but we’re still here, L’il Kev. Our future is out there.”

Kevin shook his head and smiled wide. Wink! And he pushed off to the back of their cozy capsule. He began boxing a teddy in the face.

She would never convince him.

No need, she thought, in two more years, we’ll be out of here and escaping this graveyard. He’ll have to believe it. Or will he? Even then? Is there anything I can show him, or anything those scientists can say to make him understand the truth.

“It’s my own fault,” said Liberty softly into her panini. “I shouldn’t have told you this was a spaceship. But you’re my only company: had to console you somehow.” Louder, “Come and eat your lunch, L’il Kev.”

Kevin looked upon his defeated enemy, nodded once and floated over to her.

She handed him his panini, “I’m sorry, my love. I’m sorry I got us into this but it’ll be worth it in the end.” He gave her a cocked head and a scrunched-up puzzled face, grabbed the package and flew off again, laughing, waving his lunch at the porthole. Globs of mayonnaise and molten emmental exploded from it. Liberty winced. She knew the equipment was delicate but Kevin’s potential energy was often released in damaging ways; he was a bored six-year-old. Knuckling her eyes, she began her mantra, “It’ll be worth it in the end, it’ll be worth it in the end, it’ll b-“ Liberty’s nostrils twitched: smoke…

Kevin had abandoned his sandwich mid-capsule while he pretended to shoot her with a defunct thermoglue gun. “Pchew! Pchew!” He noticed nothing.

Liberty floated around, sniffing. She strained to listen but Kevin was too loud. Pleading was futile.

Liberty retrieved the extinguisher and flew about, blindly. The cabin filled with smoke. She began to panic when she heard, “Simulation ended.” Her son bawled. She looked around at him in the next booth.

A white coat loomed above her, “The trial is over, Liberty.” She shook her head, tears stinging.

“You were unable to maintain your capsule… your ticket off world is revoked.”

“No,” she whispered.

“You’ll be staying here on Earth. We thank you for your time.”