Two Flash Fictions
His back burned where the tattoo of wings was inked. The drawing he designed sprouted from the tip of his shoulder blades and spread out to the small of his back. The image had graced his skin for months without sensation, but tonight, as he drank himself into a stupor, it felt as if ants were crawling along the outline of the wings.
The burning turned to pain as the flesh tore away from muscle and bone. He fell to his knees. Behind him, the black wings burst from his back, splattering dots of blood onto the walls. The wings beat strongly, creating a flow of air within the room. Everything he owned got caught up in the gust and scattered about his house. He dropped his bottle of whiskey, its contents spilling onto the rug.
He stood tall for a moment, then let his body relax. As he slumped, he could feel the wings hold him up. His feet lifted off the ground. He spread his arms apart and tilted his head upward. The ceiling had vanished. Slowly he levitated into the night sky.
Higher and higher he rose, until the stars surrounded him. The world below could no longer be seen. Nor could any of his troubles.
The voices that plagued him for years, the ones that alcohol couldn’t silence, were now drowned out by the flapping of his enormous black wings.
A powerful storm chased Lily’s rental car through town. As she reached the lawyer’s office, the rain poured from the sky. She wrapped a kerchief around her head and ran into the building.
The lawyer greeted her with feigned sympathy. He led her into a conference room where she joined the deceased’s family. It was obvious these relations were only connected by a single-mindedness of inheritance. Most looked away as Lily entered, the rest stared with contempt.
Her intentions were to attend the funeral and return home. Circumstances changed when she learned she was included in the will.
“Shall we begin?” the lawyer suggested.
He read the will with the rumbling of thunder as his soundtrack. Each family member groaned as they heard what small token the deceased left them.
“And for my—uhm,” the lawyer glanced at Lily, “–son, Lee. I leave the family farm and all that’s found within.”
“Figures,” Lily's older brother exclaimed, as if it proved their father was incompetent. His wife patted his arm and mumbled something about contesting.
Her vulture-like brothers and sisters had already striped the farmhouse of its valuables. They knew the farm was her birthright and they resented her for it. How could their father still think of her after all she put him through?
But her father was keeping a promise he made: his youngest child would inherit his small, but hard-earned kingdom. To continue the family legacy.
“What do you know about farming?” One brother asked.
“Everything,” she replied. “But that doesn't matter. I’m turning it into a safe haven for homeless trans youth.”
Moans of discouragement rippled through the room. The lawyer smiled proudly.
“The house that rejected me because of who I am will become a home for those in similar situations.”
She looked up, “Thanks, Dad.”
“Fuck the rest of you,” she said cheerfully as she danced back out into the storm.
About the Author: Tom Misuraca studied Writing, Publishing and Literature at Emerson College in his home town of Boston before moving to Los Angeles. Over eighty of his short stories have appeared in publications worldwide. Three of his novels and a short story collection have been published, including the comical, The Department of Lost Souls with Rob Werner. Tom is also a multi-award winning playwright with over one hundred one-acts produced globally. And eight full-lengths produced around the US, including his musical, Geeks!, which was produced Off-Off Broadway in October 2012. For more information, please visit his website.