This is my first time participating in Flash Fiction for the Purposeful Practitioner (I think). Heh. After this story, they may block me from their site. Ha.

So I saw the picture and immediately the voice started speaking. She’s been a bit too quiet lately so it’s a good thing she was stirred by this picture, even if the words she was saying were a bit…odd. But, let’s not reflect on that.

And, yes, this story was not written under the influence of anything except a very weird imagination (should I admit that? 😉 ). No hokey smokies here.

Follow the Green Brick Road?

Dorothy gets the yellow brick road while I get the green brick road. Hers was gold, mine vomit. Is it because she got knocked about by a tornado while I got tossed by a hurricane? Yes, I understand. A tornado’s winds are stronger, but still. Was it a contest?

Damn, what’s that I almost stepped on? A frog?

“Ribbit.”

Please don’t tell me that instead of Toto…I get Kermit. How will Kermit save me from Flying Monkeys?

The skies clear. I must be in the eye of the storm. Is that a flying pig?

“Jody, can you hear me?”

“Don’t shake her. She might have a concussion.”

“Mom? Dad?” I begin.

Dad glances at Mom. “We’ve got to get her to a doctor before the eye passes over.”

“Ribbit.”

“Jody, the frog is telling you to kiss it.”

“When pigs fly, mother.”

In the sky the pig is still flying. Oh, bother. I kiss the frog. Of course, he doesn’t turn into a Prince. He turns into the Prince who starts singing “Purple Rain.”

I wake up in a hospital. Mom’s holding a piglet while Dad pets a bright green frog.

I’ll just say it: there’s absolutely no place like home.

end

Sascha Darlington