Japheth’s Flash Noir

One of the characters you’ll meet–in two weeks!-ish–is Japheth Brown. Some punk at school called him Wikipedia Brown once; no one got it, so the name didn’t stick.

Japheth’s grandfather Barnabas is a mystery novelist. Japheth would love nothing more than to follow in his grandfather’s footsteps, but like many of us, he hasn’t quite found his voice. If you read the entries on this blog,  you’ll learn more about Japheth, but this post isn’t about that.

 

This post is where I open up the window into some of my process.

 

Japheth is a side charachter, but I like him. I like him enough that if I’m ever productive, I’d like to do a series with him and his grandfather as the focal point. But that’s another story. 

 

In order to get inside Japheth’s head, I broke out the typewriter and decided to write a flash fiction story as if I were Japheth. And now I’m going to show it to you.

 

Enjoy.

 

All the Wrong Reasons

Japheth Brown

 

Paul gazed down at Mary’s face. Her features, once so full of life, were now void and empty. Her cheeks, once rosy, were now listless and gray. Paul thought about the first time they had met. He thought about the joke he had told and the way her face had blushed so much that the table behind them thought she was choking to death.

Paul asked the officer, “How could anyone do this?”

The officer, fresh from the academy, tried to be helpful. He stared at Paul for a moment too long, agonizing over his words. 

“Some people do things we just can’t explain,” he offered.

Paul thought about the officer’s response. Sure, Paul thought, there are stories on the news of inexplicable things happening all the time. Could they really not be explained? Or was it possible the audience craved the mystery more than the explanation. The resolutions usually involved some sap begging for forgiveness and saying “I’m sorry” every chance he got. But everyone knows he’s sorrier for getting caught.

There are no criminal masterminds here. All we really have are people used to getting their way, and when they don’t, “I’m sorry.”

 

Mary hadn’t gotten her way tonight.

And she was sorry too.

THE END.

 

I hope that kept you entertained for like a minute. I’ll tell you one thing though, just between you and me, blogging about a story you’re working on is oddly helpful. 

I definitely recommend it.

And if there are any other good story blogs out there, point me toward them. 

 

I’m not selfish or anything.