DamonWakes

“Help!” shouted the old lady in the burning building. “Help!” “Oh no!” said a random bystander, clapping his hands to his face Macaulay Caulkin-style. “Is there nobody who can help?” “This looks like a job for Captain Birthday!” announced a spandex-clad hero, appearing out of nowhere to strike a dramatic pose beneath the window. “Stand back, citizens!” Then he whipped out a gun and shot himself in the face. “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!” yelled the guy who had drawn attention to the situation, who couldn’t help but feel at least partially responsible for what had just happened. “Why???” yelled a hot dog vendor across the street. “Why would he do that???” “I don’t know!!!” “Whoah, whoah, whoah,” said Captain Birthday, running over to his own grisly corpse. “It’s okay! It’s fine! This is just my process. I probably should have explained earlier, but time is of the essence and I really have to… You know…” He picked the gun up from the floor and shot himself in the face again.

“Help!” shouted the old lady in the burning building. “Help!” “Oh no!” said a random bystander, clapping his hands to his face Macaulay Caulkin-style. “Is there nobody who can help?” “This looks like a job for Captain Birthday!” announced a spandex-clad hero, appearing out of nowhere to strike a dramatic pose beneath the window. “Stand back, citizens!” Then he whipped out a gun and shot himself in the face. “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!” yelled the guy who had drawn attention to the situation, who couldn’t help but feel at least partially responsible for what had just happened. “Why???” yelled a hot dog vendor across the street. “Why would he do that???” “I don’t know!!!” “Whoah, whoah, whoah,” said Captain Birthday, running over to his own grisly corpse. “It’s okay! It’s fine! This is just my process. I probably should have explained earlier, but time is of the essence and I really have to… You know…” He picked the gun up from the floor and shot himself in the face again.

2am. Time for toast. “It’s me,” says the small purple goblin who lives in my toaster, “the small purple goblin who lives in your toaster.” “Oh dear,” say I. “Not this again.” “Yes, this again. It’s the final day of Flash Fiction Month 2020—or rather, it’s two hours after that—and you haven’t yet written a story.” “I’m doing it literally right now!” I protest. “Yeah, but there’s a challenge and you haven’t tackled that.” “Well, I’m talking to a toaster goblin,” I point out. “If that isn’t magical realism, I don’t know what is.” “Okay, you get that one.” “And you turned up in a previous story, so that counts as a callback.” “That was last year! You’ve got to pick something from this time around, like a cannibal cafe, or a cartoon coyote addicted to crystal meth, or a bomb disposal expert who can communicate only through the medium of swearing.” “I know. I just needed you to list three things.” “That’s sneaky,” says the purple toaster goblin. “You’re sneaky.” “Also it was cocaine, not

“This isn't my body,” the monster said, staring into the mirror and poking at his neck bolts. “Some of it is!” The doctor pointed at the tip of the monster’s toenail. “See?” The monster raised his left eyebrow. It was, to his dismay, a different colour than his right one. “Dare I ask where is the rest of me then?” The doctor glanced awkwardly over his shoulder, where his mighty chihuahua was feasting on a rotten thigh. The monster felt a strange kinship with the chihuahua in the corner; like his own, her neck bolts were far from subtle. The doctor noticed him staring. “It’s the only way I can get her to keep the cone on,” he explained. “You could at least have used human neck bolts. We have the same model, me and Matilda over there.” “I did use human neck bolts! Only the best for my pupper. Also, how do you know my dog’s name?” “It was difficult to miss your impertinent shouting, even over the roar of the thunder and that awful blinding from the lightning! And that

Once there lived a wizard who hailed from a village on an island far beyond the coast. On this island there were no schools—save for the one that taught small children their letters in a single room—so when his talents were recognised, he was sent away to the mainland for thirteen years to study. When the wizard returned aboard a merchant’s vessel, he was not surprised to see a little jolly boat rowing out to meet him. However, he was surprised to find that the one rowing it was not one of his friends or family, but a deaf shipwright whom he only knew from the docks. “Turn back!” she signed. “One like you has come with an enchanted harp. He calls himself king of the island, and makes the others dance for his amusement.” Discovering this, the merchant captain immediately turned the ship about. “Go with them and send for help,” signed the wizard to the shipwright. “I will take the jolly boat and see if I can stop him on my own.” But the shipwright shook her head. “If I go, who will

“Help!” shouted the old lady in the burning building. “Help!” “Oh no!” said a random bystander, clapping his hands to his face Macaulay Caulkin-style. “Is there nobody who can help?” “This looks like a job for Captain Birthday!” announced a spandex-clad hero, appearing out of nowhere to strike a dramatic pose beneath the window. “Stand back, citizens!” Then he whipped out a gun and shot himself in the face. “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!” yelled the guy who had drawn attention to the situation, who couldn’t help but feel at least partially responsible for what had just happened. “Why???” yelled a hot dog vendor across the street. “Why would he do that???” “I don’t know!!!” “Whoah, whoah, whoah,” said Captain Birthday, running over to his own grisly corpse. “It’s okay! It’s fine! This is just my process. I probably should have explained earlier, but time is of the essence and I really have to… You know…” He picked the gun up from the floor and shot himself in the face again.

“Has Harry told you about tulpas yet?” “That Spanish thing?” Ryan had seen a restaurant in town. “I dunno if it’s Spanish, but it’s like…” Anton leaned in closer “…an imaginary friend! Like he’s gonna think about this anime girlfriend really hard—he’s way into anime—and that’ll make her real. It’s way sad!” “Yeah, sounds weird.” It did sound sad, but Ryan hadn’t actually heard Harry say any of this. He wasn’t even positive he knew who Harry was, except that he strongly suspected he was the fat guy with the Bleach t-shirt. “You here for pre-drinks?” asked Anton. “No, I’m…” Ryan had been thinking of heading down to the club later, but since it was 4pm and Anton already had a Strongbow he got the feeling this might be one of those days they never made it out of the communal kitchen. “Was there a torch in here?” “Don’t think so.” Ryan spotted it by the microwave and picked it up. “What do you want with that anyway?” “Gotta grab a book for ‘Literature in Translation,’ but all the

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