Don't Panic Picture Prompt

I have yet another flash fic for you. This one comes from This Is Not Hitchhiker's Guide's picture prompts. It doesn't have a title, because titles are hard and I'm lazy, but that's no reason to deprive you of a story served fresh from my brain. Enjoy!

It was that time of evening when the city hummed with the activity of day people finishing up their errands to hurry home, and night people were beginning to start their nighttime revelries. Cars clogged the streets and bodies swarmed the sidewalks. I readjusted the strap of the backpack across my shoulder and marched through the din, keeping my eyes cast down on the cracked concrete in front of me.

I didn’t notice Parker’s car until I had nearly run into it. I opened the passenger door and sat, settling the backpack on my lap and slamming the door closed again. When we didn’t move, I looked at Parker. He was giving me one of those fuddy-duddy looks, with his silvery eyebrows scrunched up above an unwavering stare. 

“What?” I asked. My voice came out high-pitched, more frantic than I meant it to sound. He knew as well as I did that now wasn’t the time to be stalling.  

“Buckle up.” 

I rolled my eyes but complied. As soon as I was secure, Parker put the car in drive and we took off down the street. 

Neither of us spoke as we made our way out of the city. The silence was suffocating. Parker had every reason to be disappointed in me, but I needed him to say something—anything—to let me know things would work out. He had always gone on about how careful Others had to be, but apparently I didn’t take his lessons to heart. One moment of carelessness on my part was all it took, and now we were on the road again, uprooted from a home we dared to hope was permanent. I didn’t even have time to pack properly. The Hunters would be at our apartments by now, ransacking them for any hint of where we’d fled to. 

I kept glancing at him, hoping to ferret out his thoughts from the expression he wore. It was useless; aside from a slight frown, his face was just as neutral as it would be if this was any other drive. 

Parker must have noticed me staring, because he reached over and gave me a reassuring pat on the knee. 

“Don’t worry ‘bout it, kiddo,” he said. “We’ve done this dance before. We’ll be alright.”  

They were simple words, but they were all I needed. 

I twisted around in the seat and stared out the back window, drinking in the sight of the retreating city. The dusky sky was draped in a blanket of grey-violet clouds, and a mosaic of lights adorned the towers of the skyline. I knew it would be the last time I’d ever see this city, and I wanted to remember every precious detail.

This flash fic first appeared on Things a Yeti Wouldn't Eat.

Change

Today I've got another 100 word challenge flash fic for you. The word this time is "change," and I took inspiration from a big (albeit superficial) change I made a few years ago: the first time I shaved my head. It was a very interesting—and positive—experience.

I hope you like the drabble it inspired.

It took 20 minutes.

20 minutes she’d been standing there, a fistful of hair in one hand, a pair of scissors in the other, their gaping blades poised an inch above her scalp.

A deep breath. A Cut. The sound of metal shearing through every hair.

A lock of tresses dropped into the sink, severed from its host. The rest followed easily, as each cut came with more confidence.

Then came the razor, gliding over white, sensitive skin that hadn’t felt the air in a lifetime. She stood before the mirror, bald and bold. It was change.

It was liberating.

This flash fic first appeared on Things a Yeti Wouldn't Eat.

Peculiar

Yesterday I stumbled upon something I couldn’t resist —the 100 word challenge.  The aim is to write something exactly 100 words long, and which has been inspired by a particular word. As the title implies, that word is “peculiar.”

These 100 words were inspired by the most peculiar person I know. (You know who you are, you little weirdo!)

She had a mane of wild hair littered with bits of leaves and twigs, and bare feet splattered with mud. Her eyes were wide, ecstatic, and she had a smile to match. I would have thought her a forest sprite if not for her jeans and T-shirt.

She reached out with a single finger and smeared a dab of sap on my nose. 

Apparently delighted at my confusion, she threw her head back and cackled. She disappeared back into the forest, leaving nothing behind but the stickiness on my nose and the sound of her mirth lingering among the leaves.

This flash fic was first posted on Things a Yeti Wouldn't Eat.

Yes, They Should Have Queer Characters

Because I drabble in that whole writing thing, I belong to a couple of writing groups online. For the most part, I enjoy those communities. But as with any group of people, sometimes the shit that happens there makes me question my decision to interact with other human beings. (I know, I'm such a loveable person.) The most recent example of this happened when someone shared an article by Danika Ellis, called "Every Book Should Have Queer Characters."

Apparently, suggesting that books include queer characters provokes the same reaction that one would have to the demand that they murder a litter of puppies. The horror! The outrage! From what sick, twisted mind did this demented plot emerge??

Along with all of that indignation, the most common objection was the insistence that if a book isn't about gay sexuality or romance specifically, there's no need to have a queer character in it. Apparently, if such an identity isn't central to the plot, the mere mention that a character might be queer is a distraction, it's beside the point, it's shoehorning a gay agenda into an otherwise acceptable plot.

Obviously, this argument doesn't make any sense. We are constantly shown examples of characters being overtly straight, even if there is no romance plot or subplot, or if the story has nothing to do with sexuality. A male character might notice how attractive a woman is, female character might speak of ex boyfriends, and yet another male character might speak extensively of his carefully-cultivated, masculine appearance.

So why can't we have a man in a story admire another man's physique? Why can't we see a woman talking about her past girlfriends? Why can't we see someone pulling a shirt on over their binder? Straight and cisgendered characters are constantly given opportunities to define and express their sexualities and identities. Why is it such a stretch to think that queer characters should be afforded the same opportunities?

We can't limit queer characters to books specifically about being queer. That only reinforces the idea that straightness is default, and that queer identities are these strange other things that need to be qualified, or that don't belong in "normal" settings. Showing them in a variety of books and genres will help to normalize queer experiences and identities.

This isn't about filling quotas, as opponents to such ideas like to claim. Having a diverse cast of characters is nothing more than an honest reflection of the world in which we live. In such a world, it's backwards to demand justification for wanting more LGBTQIA (or black, or disabled, etc.) characters in a book. In such a world, we need more people asking why such characters aren't already there.

Fuck Yeah Furiosa

If there's one good thing MRAs have done, it's that they've inspired a lot of people to see "Mad Max: Fury Road."

Personally, I had very little interest in seeing the movie in theaters. I love a good action flick, but I assumed that Max Mad would just be more of the same old uber machismo, ridiculous fight scenes, cheesiness, and explosions I've come to expect of the genre.

And then I saw this:

I knew anything that upset those knuckledraggers so much would have to be worth seeing on the big screen. So I did. Twice. And that wasn't nearly enough.

On top of all of the ridiculous fight scenes, cheesiness, and explosions I expected (and love!), there was so much more to that movie than I could have hoped for. I know there's been a lot written about how significant this film is, about it's feminist themes, about the cast chock-full of strong, capable female characters who exist in their own right, independent of male relationships. I know that there's been a lot written about Furiosa herself. But I am compelled to say my own thing, for one reason alone: Furiosa is the character I've been waiting my entire life to see.

Sure, there have been plenty of awesome female characters before her that I've admired (like Tasha Yar or Zoë Washburne), but Imperator Furiosa takes the motherfuckin' cake. What makes Furiosa so amazing? Let me count the ways....

(If it isn't obvious by now, I should first mention that there are some spoilers ahead. Or as many spoilers a movie that is 95% explosions and fight scenes can have.)

On top of being the protagonist, Furiosa is not a romantic interest, and she isn't sexualized. At all. For all three of those things to exist at once is pretty damn amazing. As the movie approached the last scene, I found that I kept expecting Furiosa and Max to confess an attraction or share a romantic moment of some kind. I wasn't expecting this because it was something I wanted to see, or because I thought it was in keeping with the characters' demeanor or their dynamic. The only reason I was expecting a glimmer of romance was because that's what always happens. Too often in action films, Strong Female Character, no matter how tough and independent she is portrayed as, becomes the romantic interest for Action Dude. I'm not saying that romance has no place in an action film, only that this particular scenario is probably the tropiest trope that ever troped. This is a problem too, because continually pairing Strong Female Character with Action Dude essentially whittles her worth down to being just his prize. That the writers tried to make Strong Female Character tough and independent is just a tactic to try to mask this fact. So long story short, I love that Furiosa's worth isn't measured in how sexually or romantically desirable she is. Rather, her worth is measured in much the way I've always wanted my own worth to be measured; on her abilities and strength of character.

And she sure as hell is capable. Furiosa isn't once damseled. She is a better shot than Max, and is easily his equal in a brawl. Many times I've seen Strong Female Character presented as a badass who can, like, totally fight and stuff, only to have her taken out in a fight in no time at all. By contrast, her male counterparts beat on each other in minutes-long fight sequences taking and dishing out pain in near-equal measure. But that's not so with Strong Female Character. Sure, she may show off some flashy martial arts moves, but her confrontation is usually depressingly lackluster in comparison. The message there is, "Strong Female Character is tough, but don't worry dudebros, because Action Dudes are still tougher!" Furiosa on the other hand is a genuine badass who fights just as well as (if not better than) any of the men in the movie. She doesn't hold back, and there's no concern for making her look cool with flashy moves. Her fights are brutal in a way that makes you believe she is fighting for her life.

Most important, I think, is Furiosa's characterization. While she does have that stoic action hero thing going on, her character isn't treated as though she is somehow above emotion. She is moved to tears by the death of Angharad, and her reaction after learning of the demise of The Green Place is heartbreakingly raw and powerful. She has strong emotional reactions, and her character is allowed to show and fully experience them. More to the point, she is allowed to do so without being portrayed as weak or hysterical, or being rendered helpless. Her emotions are something that are genuine, something that drive her to succeed. They are a strength, not a weakness. Seeing that was a refreshing, beautiful thing in its own right, but is made more significant to me after seeing too many action film damsels rendered helpless by their fear or sorrow, some to the point that they have to be physically removed from immediate danger by their action film dudes (I'm looking at you, "The Darkest Hour").

"We Can Do It (Furiously)" by Hugo Hugo

So there you have it. The reasons I love Furiosa. Now excuse me while I build a monument in her honor....