just checking in + a flash fiction for you

aka. Maybe you don't remember me / we're building a house / I've had writer's block for months / homeschooling high schoolers is hard but good / I keep forgetting to drink enough water.

It’s been a while, newsletter friends.

So, maybe I should start with an introduction, in case you’ve forgotten who this is:

Hi, I’m S. M. Jake. You can call me Sarah. Or Jake. What-ev’s.

I’m tall. Like, really tall. Six foot-one inch, to be exact. Just fyi in case we meet in person and hug (fyi: you go under, I go over).

I write stories. Mostly of the fantasy variety, but with a bit of urban fantasy, sci-fi, and romance thrown in there from time to time. I have several short pieces that have been published in anthologies and online e-magazines.

I’m forty-one years old and not ashamed of it. Getting older is great!

What else… hmmm.

Life updates:

We started our homeschool year and both of my boys are in high school now. It’s weird. I don’t feel like I know enough to have high schoolers. But they are pretty great guys and I like hanging out with them.

We’re building a house. It’ll be on ten acres at the end of a dead end road + a quarter mile driveway. In fact, they’re drilling our well *today!* Eek! Once that is in, we’ll be free to break ground on the house. I’ll try and give you updates now and then.

Writing update:

It’s weird. I’ve had writer’s block for months. My two WIP novels have felt like giant boulders I can’t seem to budge forward, even when trying to rotate back and forth for different paces (that’s usually the best tactic for when I’m stuck).

I’ve attempted a half dozen short pieces with the intention of submitting to upcoming anthologies and e-magazines. But I haven’t been able to find satisfying conflicts and plot within any of them. Which means they all just feel like random events happening. Sigh…

But!!

Today marks the start of the #flashfictionmagic fall schedule. And you know what? I actually wrote something. And FINISHED it! Wooohooo!

It’s a light hearted father/son story. Something that falls in the “slice of life” genre, meaning a glimpse of the day to day for these characters. But, I added a dragon.

Yes, it’s a slice of life fantasy story.

Okay, maybe that’s not a real genre. After all, slice of life is more of an anime term. And most people expect fantasy stories to be high stakes. But I’ve always been drawn to the daily rhythms and relationships within those fantastical worlds.

And so, I hope you enjoy this little story.

Denim & Dragons

Cliff slid a thumb under the faded denim strap running over his shoulder, head cocked as he watched the dragon sunning itself in the middle of his garden. The September breeze gusted; warm, but holding promises of fall, and the beast yawned lazily amongst the crisp-edged foliage.

He tugged the denim strap lightly. Not that his overalls needed resituating, but more-so that his mind needing resituating as it puzzled out the conundrum before him, and his hands needed something to do in the midst of said puzzling.

“Blessed, my foot. Ain’t nothin’ but a dag-gum pest,” he mumbled, though he still waved his right hand in the ancient sign of respect for dragons. And then spit to his left. Which perhaps nullified the respect given, but the dragon didn’t seem to mind.

Jasper shadowed the sign¾and the spit¾with the clumsy movements of a four-year-old. “Dag-gum pest.”

Cliff sighed, tickled and annoyed. Jasper was his carbon copy when it came to looks, and was making strong effort in most other ways, as well. He nodded toward the house. “You hang out with Momma until I get this thing cleared out.”

“But I wanna help!” Jasper clutched the front of his own overalls with both hands, brown eyes determined. “And Momma said stay outside cuz Mary was napping.”

Cliff sighed again, nodding in relinquishment. His wife needed to rest even more than the baby. “Which means we need to deal with this thing quietly. Cuz if your momma wakes to find this thing in the pumpkin patch…”

Jasper grinned. “She’ll chase it out with her shoe! Like when Kitty got into the milk.”

Cliff couldn’t help but smirk at the mental picture. “Maybe. But I think a dragon requires different tactics than a naughty cat.”

Jasper’s head bobbed in full agreement.

“Maybe we can coax it out,” Cliff said, heading for the smoke house.

Dragon’s were revered back east, filling a myriad of songs and myths. A symbol of strength and honor, their likeness adorned government buildings, churches, family crests, even the occasional baseball jersey. Their rare presence was thought a blessing on whatever place happened to spot one nearby.

But out here in the west, where dragons were more plentiful, folks opinions were a bit more… mixed.

The wealthy folks in town mimicked the easterners. The mayor claimed this recent flock a sign of blessing from God. Pastor Mertens said he’d never read any such thing in the Word. Still, Cliff figured he’d start with bribing the beast, just in case.

He spent a handful of jerky and twenty minutes trying to bait it out, only to have the glittering green monster yawn and return to its spot, popping at least one good sized pumpkin in the processes.

“Shhhhh, stop it now,” Cliff grumbled, trying to keep the beast from doing more damage.

“He ate the snack, Daddy.”

“I know, Jasper.”

“And he didn’t leave.”

“I know.” Cliff ran a thumb under his shoulder strap again. 

He tried water next. The local dragon flock always looked pristine, and chatter around town said they didn’t care much for mud. However, Cliff’s efforts only produced a dragon wallow, the beast wiggling in deeper among the leafy vines and stretching its tail across the bush beans.

Cliff cringed, setting down the bucket with more force than necessary. “Little brat.”

“Little brat,” Jasper echoed emphatically, attempting to cross his arms in frustration, though he simply wrapped his pudgy belly.

As if out of spite, the dragon glanced their way before rolling over, the sound of popping pumpkins and shredding foliage carrying across the front forty.

Fire stoked in Cliff’s chest, climbing slowly up the sides of his neck.

“You slimy oversized lizard,” Cliff hissed, fighting to keep his volume down. “What do you even want?”

“I think he wants a nap, Daddy,” Jasper said with calm observation.

The dragon snorted, flipping its tail and taking out their largest tomato plant.

Cliff kicked at the ground in frustration, a clod of dirt flying into the pumpkin patch, though it was well clear of the dragon.

The dragon lifted its head, black eyes staring after the dirt clod before turning toward Cliff. Its head lilted to the side, watching.

Prickles ran Cliff’s spine, and he stepped in front of Jasper. The dragon inhaled, haunches wiggling.

It roared, one long call that echoed off the barn and down the lane. Cliff stood frozen for four heartbeats.

The dragon was… annoyed?

A tiny wail grew inside the house, drifting out through the open windows.

“Uh, oh.” Jasper said softly. “Mary woke up.”

The fire in Cliff’s chest roared to life, flaring up into his face.

“That’s it!” he yelled, ripping off his boot and stomping toward the garden. “Go on! Git! Git, ya’ mangy varmint!”

Cliff tore into the garden, swinging the boot at the dragon’s backside, landing a solid hit. The dragon jumped, spinning with a hiss. But Cliff swung again, bringing the boot down in a solid smack across the creature’s nose. It yelped, jumping backward. Cliff surged forward again, wielding his leather bludgeoning weapon with all the force he could muster, yelling all the while.

The dragon jumped away, taking to the air in three powerful strokes, gliding off toward the river without a backward glance.

Cliff stood in the garden carnage, arm’s shaking, chest heaving. It worked? It worked! He chased a dragon out of his garden with a shoes. He shook his head, letting out a huff of air in relief and mirth.

“And don’t come back!” Jasper yelled, echoing Cliff’s words. Including one less than savory choice.

Cliff cringed, slipping a thumb under his strap once more.

His carbon copy did the same.

- - - - -

Happy Friday, friends.

Sarah Jake