I invite you to enjoy this flash fiction story of mine.
The boy received an old typewriter in honor of his twelfth birthday. He thought it to be the coolest present in the entire universe! This epic gift was from the 1940’s. Young Charles knew his older brother would have green jealous eyes and Charles did not give a hoot or a holler. Older brother could have his green envy monster and he would have his glorious typing machine from 46.
So the young author began plotting his first short story draft. There might be aliens or dinosaurs or or spacemen or space ladies or a mysterious volcano erupting in his home town. The possibilities were infinite! No one could stop the boy from pressing the keys and pressing on. The typewriter was a dream come true for Charles.
Young Charles had boyhood thoughts in his dreams and on his mind. Dreams of eternal summertime and strawberry soda popped in his imagination like fireworks on July 4th. The purples and the yellows and the greens and the blues and the pinks and the reds were a kaleidoscope of eternal life. Charles could not wait to live forever! In his youthful heart he hoped for forever plus one more day.
The question of his lifetime was what exactly should he write about. Aliens was his choice. Charles had often dreamed of being abducted by extra terrestrial life. Although he had never told his parents or brother of his secret wish. In his story, these aliens would be the good kind of ET’s for the most part. They might even have doughnuts or cookies or cold milk to give the hero of the science fiction story. Then there would be kind and beautiful women who are so much more pleasant than the teachers at Charles’ school. And then the world of the aliens might just be nicer overall with no homework ever. Aliens are the greatest stuff to write about in the universe, thought the young author.
The exact moment Charles was to begin his short story masterpiece his older brother Larry walked into his bedroom, or boy cave, as he liked to imagine it. Larry asked what the large and black bulky thing was on the desk of Charles. Charles informed his brother that it was an epic Smith-Corona typewriter from 1946. Larry replied that Mom had just made chocolate chip cookies. They were even still hot!
“But what about the aliens?” asked Charles.
“I don’t know any aliens,” replied Larry with a chuckle.
In this instant, Charles knew who the villain alien in his epic story would be named after. Evil alien Larry would never conquer Charles the just.
Twelve-year-old-hero Charles was about to start writing the great American short story. First, however, he had to have some hot chocolate chip cookies and cold milk courtesy of Mom the magnificent.