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Genie In A Candle

Day 13 of Flash Fiction Month!

Today we were given a horror genre challenge. My personal challenge was to use the monster/creature trope, using a birthday candle, and lastly ending it on the “The End…Or Is It?” trope. 


Having nothing better to do after school was let out, Alexander, Paul and David sat in a dimly lit garage holding their breaths as Alexander held the striped birthday candle.

“Jimmy sold this to me for five bucks,” Alexander said. “If nothing happens, we go get my money back alright guys?”

“Sure,” Paul agreed. David answered with a nod. “And what exactly is supposed to happen?”

“He said a genie’s soul is trapped in this candle. And you know what genies do.”

“Yeah, I’ve seen Aladdin,” Paul nodded. “So now what? You supposed to rub the candle?”

“We light it.”

Alexander struck a match and lit the striped birthday candle. The three boys looked at each other for a second before the flame began to flicker. The flame moved from one side to the other and flickered from yellow to green to blue. It grew larger and large till it touched the ceiling.

“This is it, boys,” Alexander proclaimed, rubbing his hands.

The flame that was now well above their heads suddenly shrunk to the size of a fist and out of it came a voice that said: “What?”

Alexander cleared his throat. “Oh ye wise genie of the candle. I am your new mast—..”

“Now just who the hell do you think I am?” Out of the blue flame emerged a tiny round head that peered up at the boys. Two tiny arms emerged from either sides of its round bulbous blue body.

“You’re the genie of the candle right?” asked Paul.

“Genie?” The blue entity rested a hand on one hip while the other came up to point at the boy who spoke. “I am no genie. I am a monster from the deepest darkest depths of your innermost fears sent to eat you up.”

“So,” Alexander started, “you’re not a genie?”

He turned his gaze and his little pointed finger to Alexander. “Hell no,” he spat out a tiny spark of blue that hit the ground with a fizzle.

“So,” Alexander continued, “you’re not gonna grant my wish?”

“Your wish?” The blue entity looked incredulous. “No, I’m not gonna grant your wish. I ain’t a fuckin’ fluffy ass genie. Who do you think I am? I’m a spawn of the devil. I am Beelzebub and Behemoth combined. Some call me Asmodeus, some call me Azazel. I am Lucifer’s servant and I am here to eat your sou—..”

Alexander blew the striped birthday candle out and the blue entity vanished leaving behind a trail of smoke.

“What a waste,” Alexander said. “Come on boys. Let’s go teach Jimmy a lesson.”

Alexander snapped the striped birthday candle in two and threw it on the ground. He stomped off with Paul following closely behind.

David, who’d sat there quiet like a ghost the whole time, stared at the broken candle. He got up to leave but not before picking up the broken striped birthday candle, carefully placing it in his pant pocket. He smiled, gave his pocket a light pat and followed his friends.

 

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I Want To Ride My Bike

I put my helmet on
And I tag along
On the scooter you bought
With the first pay you got

I cling onto the back handles
And I sweat like melted wax candles
While moving to the corner swerves
A current runs through my nerves

Then we get home finally
Dearest brother smiling so smugly
I lie awake at night
When my thoughts fill me with fright

First
Engine too hot it bursts
We skid off and crash
The flames engulf us to ash

Second
Anxiety deadened
Distracted by a QUEEN song:
I want to ride my bicycle
I want to ride my bike

Lost attention to the balance
Wonder how hell happened

Third
We stop and a dastardly bird
Bestows upon us a turd
I shout, “This is absurd!”
Brother turns and laughs
Then crashes and splits into half

Fourth
A collision course

Fifth
Miscalculate the widths
Of cars-to-buses
Face turns up in a history of great crashes
Between the pole-mangled car
And the one that drove into a bar
Except we were pressed against car-to-bus
And life ended thus
A mix of blood, guts and pus

Sixth
Become that urban myth
The one where “Come Sail Away”
Is to be recited all the way
And the mighty hand of Styx
Will bless you with the life gift
To avoid the first to the fifth

And now you’ve seen
Why at seventeen
I resolved that:
I want to ride my bicycle
I want to ride my bike.


I’ve been thinking a lot about death ever since my big brother got a scooter…

That Styx reference, I swear, works. My brother picked me up yesterday from college and we made a series of complicated turns but I was singing “Come Sail Away” and it turns out I saved our asses with my perfect posture and distracted state of mind.

 

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Rant Poetry #2 – Unachieved

Push, strain, clench
Until you achieve
Sweet interminable glory.
Your muscles tire
But your resolve
Should remain firm.
Legs become jello,
Toes dig in;
Untangle the knots.
I look around,
There’s locked doors
And I gaze
Jealously beyond them.
Dreams I could
Never dream of
Behind closed doors.
Tired of waiting
I am waiting,
Waiting for this
Thing inside me
To come out.
Now I sit,
With folded arms:
Please sweet Jesus,
Let me shit.


I didn’t mean to be crude at all, but it’s a very common thing we all face in our lifetime. The way I see it, if peace cannot exist without chaos, if everything is relative to its exact opposite, then why should we only talk about all the great things in life and not about the base as well? Like pooping.