Tuesday, June 17, 2014

Load Up, Engage Your Hips, and Swing Violently (Flash Fiction)

We got to the stadium early enough for batting practice.

He carried our mitts, one inside the other. As we walked inside, I put my hand around his shoulder.

Our seats were in left field. My son stood, shifting back and forth on the balls of his feet.

The baseball was hit on a line, a laser beam that carried over the fence, smacked into the facade, and bounced into the section above us. And he was off, bounding up two steps at a time. He ducked under a seat, and emerged holding the ball in his hand. He held it up over his head, a huge smile on his face.

At home, only a day earlier, I had walked towards him. He walked away and sulked. "I hate you Dad."

An attempt at micro-fiction, AKA"flash fiction," a form of ultra-short story, described here and here and here.

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