This week, Chuck Wendig, over at terribleminds, presented this flash fiction challenge: Another Roll of The Dice. My numbers were: 16-magical realism; 5-alternate history; 5-mythological bird; 8-broken heart.
Tomorrow is a New Day
“I really liked the idea of it
breathing fire, the whole dragon-esque bit.” Billy, our special effects guru
says for the third time. “My team and I would do it justice.”
“Sure, Billy, but we have to think
about how the bird is going to play into the plot of the story.” Annette, one
of our head writers pipes up in her thick New York accent. “I’m telling you
all,” she waves her three hands in a gesture meant to encompass the room, “the siren’s
song is the way to go.”
“Honey, if we do that then we have
to change the whole look of the beast. The images we have drafted at this point
don’t match up with what you’re suggesting. When you think siren’s song you
think sensuality and femininity, with an edge. The bird we have now is too
robust for that type of character.” Mason, our visual arts manager/cowriter
crosses his legs with an air of finality as he offers his opinion.
“I still think we are all trying to
dig too deep on this one.” Vinny, another writer on the show, is always trying
to reign the others in. “The world we have thus far created is a perfected
version of the one we live in. Everything in it is bigger and better in its own
way. Is it not enough for this bird to simply be a new and improved version of
any regular bird we would find on our own
planet?”
“Oh, please.” Annette scoffs at him.
“That’s too simplistic.”
“Annette, I am simply offering an
unseen solution to-“
Their voices fall to the back of
mind as I look at the one other person in the room who is not engaged in
conversation. My wife is staring at the tabletop pensively. After a moment she
looks up at me, and I want to jump across the table and take her into my arms
when I see the hurt in her purple eyes. It was only three hours ago when I let it be known
to her that I am seeking divorce. I try to remember that she brought this upon us, that hers isn’t the only broken heart in
the room.
“I agree, Vinny, that we need to
create the bird based off the realm it is being created within.” She says,
breaking my gaze. I wonder how she can be concentrating on work in this moment.
People weren’t joking when they said don’t date those you work with. I married
one of the people I work with, and look at me now, having to produce a hit
television show with the woman who betrayed me. “The bird is supposed to complement
the setting of the show,” she continues.
“So you’re saying we should make the
beast more reminiscent of Annolyn?” Mason smooths back his heavily gelled hair,
lost in thought. “I could tie in some more earthen aspects. Change the colors,
perhaps.”
I hear Billy sigh in acceptance, and
Annette glances at him and leans forward in her chair. “I like where you’re
going with that, but it still has to have some sort of magical property.” Billy
perks up a bit, his head hitting the ceiling.
“Mhm, mhm.” Mason is rifling through
some papers. “What do we think about hunter green?”
“I didn’t think bronze went against
traditional Annolyn aesthetic.” Vinny said, still clinging to something simpler.
“Steve, what do you think?” The
group casts their eyes upon me. I look at my wife for a moment. “Annolyn is a
dark place. What about black?”
“Black?” Masons asks slowly,
frowning at the papers in his hand.
Annette purses her lips and says nothing;
my wife is silent as well.
“Sure.” I say. “Black is powerful,
it could be a dark creature.”
She is looking at me now, thinking.
“Black. Okay.” Billy says. “But what
does it do? What is its purpose?”
“Well, if you all insist on it being
dark, it will need to have some sort of negative impact upon the realm.” Vinny
sits up. He has come to terms with not having his way on this one. “It would
have to be something that brings havoc or heartache, something that causes
pain.”
Numerous lips are bitten as the
whole creative team brainstorms. I still feel her gaze. I look everywhere else.
“What if it doesn’t cause the pain?”
Her voice is so beautiful. “What if it holds the pain of others? What if it isn’t
dark of its own volition, but has been made that way through practice?”
“What are you suggesting?” Vinny
seems intrigued. “A bird that takes a person’s pain away and carries it within
itself?”
“Yes.”
“So it’s not an evil bird.”
“No.”
“The bird of broken hearts.” Annette
whispers. Mason starts scribbling furiously on his notepad.
“How does it go about doing that? Does
it wipe away memories?”
I watch my wife as she frowns a bit,
her eyebrows furrowing. I can see that that idea does not appeal to her.
“No,” I say, “no, because what if
there are happy memories, too?”
“Maybe it could just take away the
burden of feeling the pain that spawned from whatever event the bird is coming
to help you cope with.” She says. “It shoulders your burdens.”
“It numbs you.” I suggest.
“Numbs you?” Annette asks. “So then
it is an evil creature.”
“No.” My wife says, looking up. “It
allows the person to move on without losing the memories that helped them grow,
that made them happy.”
“It lets you have your cake and eat
it, too.” Billy grunts.
Vinny seems exasperated “I still
think it should be a memory-erasing bird. Its concept would be much cleaner
that way.”
“But what if the person the bird
visits isn’t ready to let go?” I ask.
“Well,” Vinny looks between my wife
and I, “then they don’t accept its services.”
She and I are staring openly at each
other now. The rest of the room falls silent. Everybody seems engrossed in
assessing their individual duties on how to make this bird come to life within the
show. Nobody seems appeased.
I smile at her, suddenly unsure of
what I want. “I say we scrap the bird, think of something new. We can start
fresh tomorrow.”
“I agree.” She responds.
There is collective relief
around the room as the team prepares to leave. I don’t listen to their
departing words.
