'My World' by Abida Akram

Fire

Many voices. Fire ants are having their lunch as they crawl up my arms and legs. There is no ceasefire, nor will there be. No aid will get through. Hot and cold.

Blue and purple mottled patterns snaking from the soles of my feet and up my calves. The electric bar heater is too hot. I don’t move away. We red-headed people are told we have a temper and are feisty so why am so I silent. This withdrawal is a bitch. I curl up as if paper torched by the sun. My ashes swirl in the room as if sparking the voices into chilli red flakes.

Air

Oceans deep and the deepest of space, unexplored. So much unknown. I am vulnerable to the invisible. I am vulnerable to the empty space inside. A black hole, never to be filled. Scared, drowning, I can’t catch a breath. I wish I could see you once more before I choke.

Water

70% water. You’re kidding, right? More voices from the TV. Loud. I laugh. My thirst is constant. I am drowning in the shallows of little saliva. Floods everywhere. Homes washed away; cars overturned. Strong trees brought low, slumping over roads. My body tight, holding on, whilst my eyes ache, waterless.

Earth

Bodies in white shrouds, bodies under flags, bodies in coffins, bodies in mass graves. You take all the genocides in your stride, for you will be there when we are long gone. You will cough up our bones when you are good and ready.

The voices are louder. There are no walls. There is no peace for such as I. The voices are knocking loudly. 

They say they are saving me from burning, that it’s all in my head.

Revenge Spell by Donna M Day

 Fire

The rage you ignited

The humiliation you bestowed

The betrayal you committed

Boiling tears spilling from my scorched eyes

Earth

The way you made me fall

The way you fractured all stability

Salted water pouring from my eye sockets down my arid cheeks

Air

My scream to the Universe

Hollow eyes with nothing at all left in them but pain

Water

Tears

Tears. Tears.

Tears. Tears. Tears.

Tears. Tears. Tears. Tears.

Tears. Tears. Tears. Tears. Tears.

Tears. Tears. Tears. Tears. Tears. Tears.

Tears. Tears. Tears. Tears. Tears. Tears. Tears.

Tears. Tears. Tears. Tears. Tears. Tears. Tears. Tears.

Tears. Tears. Tears. Tears. Tears. Tears. Tears. Tears. Tears.

'Grounded' by Melissa Flores Anderson

Earth

Maddie was grounded. Everyone said so. People described her as reliable. Steady. Salt of the earth. Predictable. Calm. She never did anything to cause anyone concern. While her friends flitted in and out of relationships, dropped out of college, quit jobs on a whim, she got engaged to the first man she dated and took a job right out of school that had good health insurance.

Air

She walked into the coffeeshop for her regular order. Americano with cream and two sugars. The regular barista was gone and in her place a man who might have been a decade younger. “What can I get you?” he asked, and Maddie felt a lightness in her lungs. She spurted out her order. “Name?” the man asked, his brown eyes golden in the early rays of sun that filtered through the window. “Madison,” she said. She collected her cup at the other end of the shop, her name written in blue ink with a heart dotting the 'i'. She glanced back at the barista, who grinned and offered a wink.

Fire

Ethan wouldn’t admit it, but he went after Madison because she’d ordered the most basic drink on the menu and he wanted the challenge of pushing her boundaries. She surprised him that first time they fooled around in his car in the parking lot of a Chili’s, his lips still burning from the jalapeno margarita he’d had at dinner.

Water

They got carried away, or cocky, or both. Maddie’s fiancé caught them at the Y swimming pool, her in the first bikini she’d ever owned, Ethan in a pair of board shorts that showed off his six-pack abs. Maddie’s fiancé stood quiet in his workout gear, wondering why Maddie had never worn a two piece with him.

'The Gravity of the Situation' by Bill Egarr

Water

The smells are all new, but there’s no time to enjoy them: the dog knows only that the girl is crying and needs her. She leaps into the water because there’s no choice. It’s full of fast-travelling debris, and the current is strong, but she is stronger, more determined. The girl grasps her as she passes, scoops her up and into her arms. The building beneath them shudders and groans, but at least now they will die together.

Fire

Emad is out when the bomb reduces his makeshift home to a crater. He’s been queueing at the aid truck all morning and has just eaten his first proper meal in a week. He stands at the rim scratching his head. A burst of machine-gun fire fractures the stunned silence. The irony that being starving has saved his life isn’t lost on him. He would laugh if his laughter hadn’t been stolen from him.

Earth

A flagging entertainer with a dyed jet-black quiff is singing rock and roll to tables of pensioners only slightly older than him. They are assembled in the community space of a tired shopping centre that will be shut down and scheduled for demolition next year. They huddle over their teas, some bewildered and inarticulate, others chattering like children. The gravitational pull of their dying town pins them inescapably in place.

Air

The shopping centre is a small brown hexagon viewed from the window of the passing aeroplane. The cars and people are tiny microbes, mindlessly belching out carbon dioxide into an already overburdened atmosphere. “Like cattle,” thinks the particle physicist as she looks down on them. “They barely know they exist.”

'Denny in Four Steps' by Debra A. Daniel

Earth
Denny was sick of digging graves. Sick of backhoes and shovels. Sick of
Keith, his co-digger. Sick of waiting to fill in the hole and waiting at a
respectable distance away from grieving families. He especially hated
when the holes were small, child-sized and easier to dig. He thought they
should be the hardest of all to dig, but they weren’t. What’s a guy to do in a
world like that?
Water
The boss had warned Denny not to show up drunk again or half-drunk or
hungover. But Denny hated digging the damp, moldy dirt. What else was a
guy to do except fill up his water bottle with vodka. He always made sure
the bottle looked new and freshly opened so Keith wouldn’t suspect. It
worked until the day it didn’t.
Air
When Denny passed out while waiting a respectable distance from the
grave-hole of a firstborn daughter who liked acrobatics and lemon cookies;
Keith thought he was dead. Truth was, Denny had opened his second
bottle of vodka-water, maybe even three and had gulped it down. Keith with
no cellphone of his own had sprinted over to the parents of the tiny dead
girl, hollering for help to revive his pal. The parents, steeped in their grief,
had rallied to his side. The ambulance carried Denny away, definitely not
dead.
Fire
The boss has no choice but to terminate Denny’s employment. Keith’s, too.
No one should disturb the mourners no matter what happened, especially
not for a ne’er do well drunk like Denny. At the hospital, they treated Denny
for alcohol poisoning which knocked his heart out of whack which put him
on oxygen. They told him not to smoke, but when the newly unemployed
Keith sneaked in with cigarettes and beer so they could drown their sad
sloppy sorrows, what else was a guy to do?

'My Elemental Odyssey' by Sarah Oakes

Fire

In October, I was a raging torrent of fire and flame, because the celestial cryptid of my sight was not seen or heard or understood, and it wasn’t fucking good enough to be told I was inconclusive, and it wasn’t fucking good enough that they lost results, and it wasn’t fucking good enough that they didn’t care, and it wasn’t fucking good enough that they wasted my time.

Earth

In January, after years of searching, they finally found my roots. Like Yggdrasil, they reached deep into the earth, into realms of certainty where answers flourished and diagnoses blossomed. From those roots, I began to grow, until my branches kissed the clouds.

Water

In April I became a well of knowledge, as I learnt more about myself and the celestial cryptid that calls my sight home, of her wondrous ways and mysterious magic, and how to navigate the churning sea of my sight with long cane oars, until I started sailing into every horizon.

Air

In June I am a summer breeze, finally feeling like myself, finally accepting the celestial cryptid of my sight as part of my life, finally embracing everything. And now, I skip and dance on every gust of air, living life and loving it. For my elemental odyssey was one adventure, but now I set sail on another, and know I shall soar.

Alarming Elements by Jane Claire Jackson

 

 Earth

Terracotta tiles cover ochre buildings. Earthenware pots adorn fenced terraces. Dusty soil. Parched vegetation. Sunbaked land.

 

Fire

A match dropped from a car window, still glowing. Sparks crackle, smoulder and spread. Rapidly flames ignite. Tongues licking, hungry for more. Smoke choking, billowing out of control.

 

Air

Wind fanning, encouraging, heating. Sirens echoing for miles around. Planes taking off, flying, circling, assessing the situation far below. Relatives holding their breath whilst rescuers debate options. Hot air

 

passes from mouth to mouth. Orders shouted. More planes soar full speed to the coast.

 

Water

Hosepipes spraying, depleting emergency sources. Rivers acting as barriers. Planes splash down, filling tanks with seawater. As this artificial rain pours from the sky, slowly the blaze is dampened and squelched.

Leave It All Behind by Allison Renner

 Air

In the mountains, far from “home,” you can breathe. The air tastes fresh and moist, allowing

hope to fester in your lungs in a way the sandy desert heat never could cultivate.

Earth

Scorched Earth. It’s what he expected, and you’d never dream of disappointing him. Not even

now, after all he’s put you through.

Water

Cut off at the street.

Fire

Burning down the life he’d trapped you in.

'Campfire' by by Jennifer Mungham

Fire

The flames flickered into the dark spaces between logs. Floating along the wooden surfaces and twisting in the wind. A thousand dancers to a cackling beat bursting upwards with pops. The heat was a silent, steady wall, not affected by the fluctuating flames, warning the enraptured audience from getting closer all the while tempting them. Marshmallows, heedless of the danger, pushed forward spinning slowly amongst the fire, charring and softening, sweetening the air.

Air

The breeze flowed down the hills, a constant stream of bustling noise. Cooling what the fire warmed, a delicious chill raising goosebumps. Pushing the smoke onwards and upwards mixing scented pine leaves with charred branches. 

Earth

Swept clear, smoothed and dried, the Earth embraces its visitors for one short night. It taps out rhythms below their feet as they chant and dance. Silent alone, with friends it can rejoice and rival the fire, even the wind for noise. 

Water

The hissing of mortal enemies finally meeting in battle. Flames fly outwards, frantically trying to escape to start afresh. Vapour rises translucent, ethereal, heated by fire and transformed then lost to the breeze. Wood cracks and splits at the sudden rush of cold, flinging off an army of sparks and pulling in the life giving moisture, trying to stave off the inevitable by washing off smoke.

'Beginnings and Endings' by Lynda McMahon

Air

Without the first breath of air there is no life and after the last breath there is only death. The covers move with each breath as her life continues. The mask has slipped and she is agitated; she fights for air; she fights to live. Her fear is so strong it sucks the air out of the room. I am suffocating!

I cannot save her however much I will air into her lungs. They are taking away the mask! No! Without air she will die! No!

Water

So many tears. It is as if my body wishes to lose all it’s water; to become dehydrated and disperse weightless upon the air. I watch her soul rise with the incense. Holy smoke from holy fire. I suffocate in the intensely perfumed air as I watch her soul rise on clouds of greasy vapour. My flowing water threatens to extinguish the eternal flame. I drown in grief.

Fire

Flames to consume the flesh. The puny heat of the incense is supplanted by the furnace that roars its dragon breath beyond the curtain. If I cry a flood can I stop its ravenous maw? Fire and water cannot co-exist yet, in this strange place, fire defeats water. Fire consumes what was and is no more. All that remains is ash and torment.

Earth

‘Earth to earth; ashes to ashes; dust to dust…’ The familiar words echo, re-echo, sing their own song until I am the words and the words are me. The last air she would use fuels the flames and she is sent back into the earth. Sent back to add her elements to the never-ending cycle.

The living must continue to breathe air. We have no choice.

'Elemental Ghosting' by Luanne Castle

Air

She sets her back against the wind, the sunlight haloing the feathered wing tips. Their fragile strength stretches and spreads across the sky. And who is this ghost bird? I mean ghost angel.

Earth

Three ghosts run down the sandy road. They run faster and then faster until their wings catch the wind and their toes are dragged through the dust until they hang above us, their ectoplasm webbing the sky like clouds.

Water

The river took Johnstown with it. The locomotive, the shredded houses, mothers and children, dogs and chickens, bankers and farmers. All debris. Some say ghost fish pulled people down bank right into the rushing wet rage.

Fire

Blue ghosting travels to the ceiling, leaving behind the pedestrian fire traveling the carpet, the drapes, and the wooden chairs. Watch the ghost flames travel independently. Ghost angel lit by jealousy and sacrifice.

'In Orbit, Above a Sparking Blue Planet' by Joyce Bingham

Air

Is precious. Yet we breathe it in, waste it in conversation, make every word count, every task worth the effort. Watching the Earth through the window doesn’t count, even if I fog up the thick glass—well, that’s what I tell myself. How did I arrive here? I don’t mean the booster rockets and the years of study. It’s the aspiration, the assumption of my eighteen-year-old self that this was my dream and it would happen.

Earth

Is mesmerising. A sparking blue in the darkness of space. I have to tear myself away to measure the bean roots, count the weightless leaves. A school project in space is not rocket science, but think of the kale we can eat in future space journeys. Will anyone thank me?

Fire

Is dangerous. We have lots of flammables, including us. My fellow astronauts are a weird bunch. That makes me one too, so I am in good company. Tempers flare over tiny misdemeanours. Living so close together can make for interesting dynamics. But in the end, we are afraid of the same things, so we bond over a freeze-dried meal, and waste air remembering past BBQs.

Water

Is recycled. Through all our kidneys and the water processor. We are a team and since we share water; we are a part of each other. We talk of swimming, of surfing, of having so much water we can splash it around. I am my water and we are our water. Together we are an amalgamation of astronauts running a small tin can in the orbit of a stunning blue sapphire in a dark sky.

NFFD 2024 Prompt #5: Elemental Quadriptych

 

Prompt #5: Elemental Quadriptych
ELEMENTS prompt B

Welcome to The Write-In!  This year, we're celebrating the 2024 National Flash Fiction Day Anthology theme of The Classical Elements - Air, Earth, Water and Fire. Throughout National Flash Fiction Day, we'll be posting one time-related prompt on the hour every hour from 00:00 until midnight (BST), for a total of 25 prompts in all.  You have until midnight on Sunday (BST) to submit your responses for possible publication here at the Write-In.  We'll start posting responses on Sunday, 16 June 2024....

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Write a flash in four sections, with each section having a heading 'Air', 'Earth', 'Water' and 'Fire', in any order.  It's up to you whether the sections read as stand-alone, linked flashes or whether the whole piece reads as one continuous story. Just make sure the whole thing is no more than 300 words!

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If you’re submitting this to us, make sure to note that this is a response to Prompt 5: Elemental Quadriptych.

You can submit responses until 23:59 BST on Sunday, 16 June 2024 for a chance to be published here at The Write-In.

You can claim the badge for this prompt by visiting the badgifier here (hosted by the NFFD website).

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