new invention

“They won’t patent it,” I said, when I had returned to Naples from Rome.
“Of course not. You can’t patent a recipe,” said my friend, the chef Raffaele Esposito.
“I thought if I petitioned the pope…”
“Listen, everyone eats flatbread. This focaccia…”
“No.”
“This family-sized piadina or borlengo or … I can serve it to King Umberto and Queen Margherita. They are visiting Naples. I am to make a meal for them. Let me use your invention,”
This was in 1889. He served it, they liked it, and shortly my name was lost to history and Raffaele’s name was elevated.

for Fiction Challenge

unremembered

I was prospecting in the asteroid belt when I attached to an iron-and-nickle specimen tumbling slowly through space in a throng of its brothers and sisters. When I climbed out to inspect its surface, clomping around in my magnetized boots, I came upon an individual in a spacesuit sitting in a chair bolted down next to a hatch leading into the asteroid’s interior.

“Who are are you?” I asked, using my communicator.

The person looked away from the sparkling void of space, at me.

“I … I don’t remember.”

“Who knows you’re here?” I said

“Nobody,” he or she said.

for Carrot Ranch

raven

A raven adopted me at my cabin in the north woods. I named him Edgar. We had a casual relationship, based on food and togetherness.

Edgar roamed the woods at will. One day, he brought home a crow, whom I named Allan.

Allan generally gave me a wide berth, unlike Edgar, who would perch on my shoulder. Allan and I competed for Edgar’s affections. I sensed that Allan was gradually winning.

When the two birds built a nest together and Allan laid eggs in it, I changed her name to Ellen.

The hybrid babies took me for their godfather.

 

For Carrot Ranch Flash Fiction Challenge

unicorn

my mama told me not to hang round rufus. don’t see that boy no more. he’s not our kind she said.

he’s my kind i said.

your young just horsing around my papa said your not stable yet. it’s your first rodeo.

he’s lasso’d my heart i said.

he wrangled your brain papa said.

i forbid you mama said but without disrepecting her wishes i respected mine more and rufus and i galloped into the woods behind our barn. the moon was full and i was left unsupervised as the t-shirt says.

now i’m mama of the world’s first zebra-corn.

 

For Carrot Ranch

Ice

“Why do I have to drive all the way over to Bryceton for ice? I can buy all we need at Hinton’s.”

“The ice here isn’t cold enough. We’ll be up in the mountains for a while.”

“Not cold enough? Ice is ice.”

“Nah. The ice for sale at Hinton’s melts easy. The plant over in Bryceton makes ice that lasts. It’s much colder and you can get it in bigger blocks.”

“What about dry ice?”

“That would freeze grandpa solid. We want to preserve him but we don’t want to have to thaw him out for the funeral.”

 

For Carrot Ranch