Flash Fiction: A Conjuror of Boats

AI art by wombo

“Useless!” The teacher stands with her hands on her hips, at the center of a grassland, surrounded by boats, some whole, some broken, some with sails that billow in the warm breeze.

The conjuror’s peers, the children sitting on the ground behind him, laugh.

Warmth blooms across his face.

The teacher pinches the bridge of her nose and says, “Try again.”

He tries again. More boats drop from the sky a short distance away, thundering to the ground, some crashing down on their predecessors. 

Another day of attempt. Another day of failure. Another day of embarrassment. Why can’t he conjure anything else?

That night, he dreams of water. It bleeds from ruined hulls, slithers through tall weeds and into the village, coiling around the small, stone huts. 

Just before dawn, the water rises. It drives families to crowd on wooden rooftops. 

When the boy wakes on the deck of a boat, he finds himself drifting through the village, among stares of disbelief, and his laughter echoes across the grassland. 

———

Like short fiction? How about a whole dang book of it? My newest release is available in both print and ebook forms on the Amazon. Link down yonder.

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