The Raconteur

My entry in the Flash! Friday competition this past weekend. Your story had to be inspired by the photo below and the other stipulation was you had to include an alien. I didn’t grab a piece of the prize this week but I’m quite pleased that some of my Twitter friends were rewarded.


Dad was a connoisseur of the tall tale before his mind imploded. Once, he was fishing for trout on Lake Ponchatoula on a sleepy Friday morning, sipping coffee, when he glimpsed a figure hovering above the water: thin as a saw blade, fingers like white thread, and as towering as a wind turbine. He said the creature, Sebastian, simply plopped down in the aluminum boat. They talked about baseball, love and war until nightfall when he abruptly stood and drifted across the lake and vanished.

It never made any sense but that was dad.

My son crawled into bed and pleaded for one more grandpa story. Supposedly, he met the Devil himself at a truck stop in Albuquerque. He wore a Stetson and snug Wranglers instead of horns and fiery skin. They knocked back jello shots, tossed darts, and avoided any Faustian bargain. Dad said the Devil was just lonely.

“Grandpa was cool.”

“The coolest, Sebastian. Get some sleep, kiddo.”


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