Flash: Harm’s Highway

Photo by Daniele D’Andreti on Unsplash

Douglas Yu edged over to the ward’s entry desk as maternity took the active labor handoff from the emergency room team the technician had run from ambulance to the second floor. Marigold Miles, the receptionist administrator, asked in sympathy as the sweaty medical professional leaned against the desk. “Diameter?”

“Arrived at ten and baby’s a breech. Jeff had his arm all the way up her hoo-hah trying to rotate the kid when they arrived.”

Marigold shuddered. “Responders are a different animal.”

“Ain’t that the truth.” After a couple more minutes of catching his breath, grateful he didn’t have to add another birth notches on his ER belt, Douglas looked over at Marigold monitoring her station’s equipment. “Speaking of different animals, do you know what happened with that Jane Smith trying to Surrender her kid while still pregnant?”

“Oh, did she come in on your watch?”

“Checked her in myself.”

Marigold smiled, always loving to share gossip. Maternity had the best morsels. “We got everyone involved from admin to lawyers. You know how they hated the revenue loss of IVF; well, since ‘nothing is illegal the first time’ as Jimmy in legal says, this was the perfect test case. The Doc-on-duty consulted with Psych to sign off on the woman being a danger to herself and her baby if she remained pregnant, so we induced while getting social services on the horn. Baby boy Smith got his blue blanket while mommy signed over all her rights and named his dad. I think it was the first time ever we had a birth certificate with “unknown” under the mom.”

“Jesus.”

“Right, so social got police, since the boyfriend had locked her out of the mutual apartment in the rain at night, endangering the baby, and they went over to her place to get her stuff out, including her purse and they found where he had cut her ID into bits. With her phone, she called her friend and they skedaddled. The police then went to his place of business to let him know about the baby, and that is when we get the next part of the story.” Marigold wiggled her eyebrows.

“It gets better?”

“It gets better.” The admin glanced at her monitors, then leaned on the lower desk to get closer. “He came here, since social needed him to take the baby. After all he is the only name on the birth certificate. First he claims it wasn’t his, but, damn, that kid had his face. It had nearly twenty-four hours to get over being smooshed out the canal. We offered to do a DNA, so he says he didn’t want the kid, just the girl. He says he wouldn’t have poked holes in the condoms if he known he was going to get stuck with a screaming baby by himself.”

“He what?”

“Yeah, forced pregnancy. Basically like being raped for nine months. Your attacker is always with you. Fucking mental. Anyway, he signed away his rights then ran out of here saying he was going to get the bitch for leaving him. Social says he figured out which friend was helping out Jane and banged on her door until 9-1-1 got him out of the building. They had kept in touch to let her know if he claimed the kid or not. Seems like Jane didn’t want daddy to have the kid, but saw no way around it. Said it wouldn’t be fair for her to have the kid when every time she looked it in the face for the rest of her life and think how much she hated its father and what happened to her. She was scared for Baby Smith, but she could only save herself.”

“Did she get out?”

“Last news was restraining order and a friend network to get her out-of-state.”

“And the kid.”

“Momma Jane had taken care of herself, no drugs. She was a good kid, just in a bad situation. I think if she felt even some control over her life and her body, she could have kept Baby Boy, but…”

“Yeah.”

“Well, white newborns, all signed over to the state get snatched up easy. Social says he is with a foster-adoption couple and his two dads adore him.”

“All’s well, that end’s well?”

“Hon, you just showed your male privilege, but that is okay. Jane had to jump states, has no job history she dare access, no home, one suitcase, and is cut off from half her friends or more. She just gave birth and has no medical insurance, and a part of her will always remember she had to give up her baby because of a toxic man. Baby boy will grow up wondering why his momma didn’t love him, and that poison man is out there, lying his ass off, and likely will pull this shit on another woman.”

Yu sighed. “You’re right. Well, at least things have a chance of getting better.”

“We got a long way to go for that to happen. Legal is pissed that no one flagged situation so they can duke it out in court and maybe start nibbling at getting our IVF money maker back.” Marigold rotated back to her screens. “Don’t forget to vote next Tuesday.”

“You too.”

“Already sent it in, I got back-to-back shifts scheduled.”

“See you next birth.”

“You too.”

(words 892; first published 10/13/2024)

Safe Surrender Duology

  1. Safe Surrender (10/6/2024)
  2. Harm’s Highway (10/13/2024)

Flash: Safe Surrender

Photo by Clem Onojeghuo on Unsplash

Maturity Tag: Language

Black rain sparkled against the pavement outside the hospital’s emergency room as the automatic doors softly opened and closed, letting in another needy soul seeking care and compassion. The admittance admin glanced over as she worked on assigning the emergency in front of her their place in triage, a few stitches likely would be enough but a fully certified medical professional would need to make the final call. The woman at the door turned sideways, her profile against bright lights immediately jumped her to the front of the line. Pregnancy won most triage sorting battles.

One of the ER staff rushed forward, skipping the normal administrative procedures.

“Hello. My name is Douglas Yu, I am an ER technician. Are you okay dear?” he asked, “Any bleeding or contractions?”

“No,” she said rubbing her belly, a frown etched between her eyes, “I just want it out. I can leave the baby here, right?”

“What, um, is this an emergency? Is something happening?”

“No, no. I am just done with this. I waited seven months, it should be viable, just get it out and I can leave.”

The medical professional blinked. “Ma’am, we don’t just do that.”

“Sure you do, you induce all the time.” The woman pushed her wet hair back, her voice raising. “Just give me the shots, get this fucking kid out, and let me get on with my life.”

“Ma’am while you can leave a baby at the hospital if you are unable to take care of it, your child has to be born first. It has to BE a baby.”

“Look, they said it was a baby as soon as conception, it’s conceived. They said I can’t get an abortion. I’m not asking for an abortion. I waited seven fucking months. I did the time. It can live on its own. GET.IT.OUT.”

The tech waved off the police officer walking towards them from his normal station near the door. “Ma’am, ma’am. Let’s come over here and get you signed in.”

“I don’t want a pysch eval, I’m fine.” She eyed him as they walked over. “I am just done with this bullshit of not allowed to even leave the state because I got knocked up because they cut off my damn birth control. Get this thing out.”

“Can I have your license?” the technician fired up his computer station.

“Nope, John took it because he thought I would hop states on him. The bastard isn’t wrong. As soon as it’s legal, I’m gone. I got a new one ordered and it should arrive next week at a friend’s house so this shit doesn’t happen again.”

“Insurance card maybe?”

“Do you SEE a purse? I fucking walked here because the bastard is out with friends getting drunk tonight.” She sat down in a wheelchair a gray-haired hospital volunteer brought over. “Just call me Jane Smith, no insurance because I got fired for being fucking pregnant, though the boss didn’t word it that way. I was taking too much time throwing up in the bathroom.”

“Sounds like a bad situation ma’am. I am sorry you have had to live with it. Do you have a primary caregiver?”

“Nope, no insurance.” The woman naming herself as Jane crossed her arms, then took a deep breath, one of her hands moving up to grip her shoulder. “Please, I just want this nightmare to end.”

“I’m going to transfer you to OBGYN area. They might have a solution for you.”

“I told you the solution. They said it’s a baby even in a petri dish, they said if you can’t take of a baby to drop it off, they said it can’t be by abortion, so here I am, get it out and let me escape.”

The tech locked his screen after it beeped the second floor nursing staff could accept a non-emergency patient. Pulling a bracelet off the printer, he wrapped it around the woman’s wrist. “Mr. Shepherd here will take you to them. Good luck.”

(words 665; first published 10/6/2024)

Safe Surrender Duology

  1. Safe Surrender (10/6/2024)
  2. Harm’s Highway (10/13/2024)

Flash: Negative One is a Value

ID 177155887 | Vodka Bottle © Maryia Kazlouskaya | Dreamstime.com

Jacc grabbed for the bottle, but despite having more of the vodka in him than the bottle, Jeff easily dodged his sibling. “Come on little bro, give it over. You have had enough.”

“Who says enough? I ain’t no quitter.” Jeff’s snarky smile turned Jacc’s stomach.

Shaking their head, they said, “It’s destroying you.”

“My body, my choice.” The broken chair he fell in crackled under his light weight. While liquor had a lot of calories, when you don’t eat anything else, you lose pounds.

“It’s destroying everyone around you.”

He snorted before opening the screw lid and downing another chug. Pointing a finger with the hand holding a bottle at the only person still willing to come by his place to make sure he was still alive. “Better a negative than a zero.”

“What?”

“Oh, you remember, everyone while we were growing up said I would never amount to anything. A big fat zero.” His smirk deepened. “At least as a detriment, I am not zero. I am negative all the way, baby!”

(words 174, first published 9/15/2024; written 8/27/2024)

Flash: Exit Strategy

Photo by ConvertKit on Unsplash

I couldn’t take it anymore and left my private space to grab Xanadu’s alarm and turned it off. They may be my favorite American, but sometimes I could ring their neck. I have to bang the curtain surrounding her woodworking space to find the overlapping cloth entrance. The white kitchen timer was set on a stool near the passthrough.

“What, oh, was that ringing?” they asked, looking up from the ten-to-one ratio rat-inspired column they were carving for the Manyard building, red paint clinging above their left eyebrow. They had finished the last of the two-foot columns for the inside atrium Tuesday and painted them with the red lacquer substitute last night. Dabbing the splinters and sawdust away with a brownish washcloth, they revealed the hand-held foot-sized zodiac-inspired art had been roughed out since I left for work. Six of the eight outside columns were at the detail stage; only the rat and pig needed the initial rough-outs. They had chosen to do those last since they were the two center outside columns and would have the most traffic.

“For an hour.”

Xanadu laughed, “Surely not.”

“It’s seven-twenty.”

“Dinner!” They set down the toy column carefully, then jumped up and ran toward the kitchen.

I grabbed their shoulder as they ran past. “I’ll order pizza. No need for another meal with sawdust in it.”

“What? Are you sure?” Their eyes drifted back to the wood carving.

I squeezed their shoulder. “Yes, I’m sure. And, no, you are not going back to that until you take an hour break – your orders.”

They closed their eyes and nodded. “I forgot to eat lunch.”

“Then you are done for the day.”

“But—”

I held up a finger. “Your orders.”

“My work gets crappy without breaks.” They pouted, crossing their arms over their leather apron. “Fine, I’ll shower while you order. No pineapple.” They stomped off to our mutual bathroom.

***

Xanadu took the last pineapple slice, leaving the bacon and cheese pizza of the two-for-one deal untouched. Rolling their dark eyes as they bite in, “I forget how great warm pineapple tastes.”

I picked up the untouched pizza and put it in the fridge for tomorrow’s breakfast. One meal down and ready for when I take over kitchen duties tomorrow. Grabbing a washcloth, I wiped down the counter and the island for crumbs and sawdust settling out from the air. “So, I’ve been meaning to ask. Do you want to go to the November Lantern Festival again this year?”

“It happens the first week of November and it is September already. There is no way we could get a travel visa ready.”

“About that.” I moved over to our pile of mail and dig down a couple of days, dropping the political flyers and store advertisements into our recycling bucket at the end of the kitchenette island before I find the government envelope. “My family really would like to see me so they expedited things for us.” I wave the fat envelope.

“But the plane tickets will be crazy expensive this close.”

“Paid for.”

Their eyes narrowed, black eyeliner turning their eyes into slits. “What’s going on?”

“My parents would like me to be outside of America during the election,” I said tapping the envelope against my other hand.

“Why?”

Stopping the nervous tic, I gave them a look, tilting my head. We both grew up political brats.

“He isn’t going to win. There is no way he is going to win again.”

I raised my eyebrows.

“Sure he managed to stay out of prison so far, but there are still several court cases to go.”

I waited.

They sighed, “But even if he loses…”

“He’s promised chaos, refusing to accept the outcome if it goes against him.”

“That’s not just it, it can’t just be it.” They hopped off the stool and walked over to me and took the envelope out of my hands. “What else has your family heard?”

“Nothing they can share with me, but I am going home to keep them happy.” I shrugged. I may be a fighter of justice, but I wasn’t untouchable. “He promised to round up all the Chinese and illegal immigrants and put them in camps.”

“You are Korean, not Chinese. And on a permanent visa thanks to your family.”

“Like his followers can tell the difference between me and the Chinese.”

Xanadu ran rough fingers around the edges of the envelopes, switching to Korean to say, “The travel visa will only be good for a couple of weeks. What will we do then?”

“It’s a three-year work visa with exit and entry privileges. Father and older brother slid us in under the Manyard trade contract, since you are working for them.”

Frowning, they worked a finger into the envelope and opened it. “And how did they justify you?”

“Native son.”

They switched to American. “Right. Duh.” They unfolded the paperwork, being careful not to drop the visas while examining them. “It will take me away for the second round of project baseline work. But…” They handed the paperwork to me. “If he wins, then the only second round I will be dealing with is getting hauled off to those camps for some reeducation. I’m in.”

“Korea isn’t much better for accepting queerness.”

“Are they threatening camps? Do they have full-blown plans like Project 2025?”

“Not unless North Korea comes across the border.”

“Then we are all screwed. Everywhere.” They tossed the envelope and paperwork onto the island and stepped into my space to hold themselves against me. “How did it get so wrong?”

I hug them to my body. “I don’t know, my dragon, I don’t know.”

(946 words, first published 9/1/2024)

Capturing the Tiger and Dragon Series

  1. X is for Xenophile (4/28/2024)
  2. X is for Xylotomous (5/19/2024)
  3. X is for Xanthic (6/9/2024)
  4. Exhibit (7/14/24)
  5. Exit Strategy (9/1/2024)

Flash: When a DM asks a question, you say yes

Image from Rock Vincent Guitard on Unsplash

The white dragon rises, shimmering in the slanted rays of the winter sun, her moves sounding like icicles crackling as her great head—

“I cast fireball.”

The DM stops her description and sends a sharp look at the player.

“What? I cast fireball, a surprise attack, right?” Jeremy starts picking up his six-siders.

“She is well aware that your party is there.” Emily places the sheet she had been reading down behind her screen. “Even the thief failed his stealth roll.” She sent her boyfriend a sympathetic smile.

Mark slouches further in the Snorlax bean bag lounger, crossing his arms. “Stupid nat one.”

“Yeah, that was a bad one.” Jeremy laughs.

“Now do you want to roll initiative, or hear the rest of the description?” Emily laces her fingers and rests her head on them.

I and Andre perk up and look at each other. As the other DMs of the group, we know exactly what she is saying.

Time to meta? I raise my eyebrows at Andre.

The group formed around three high school best friends: Andre, Jeremy, and Chris. They picked up Emily from a book club, and me from an advertisement at a comic store. Mark joined when he moved in with Emily, as she and Andre alternate hosting the sessions.

The problem is Jeremy. He likes action, and the rest of the group leans more toward roleplaying. To make matters worse, he doesn’t really listen well to women, even with two out of three of his DMs being female. So whether to meta is an Andre call. Will he yank Jeremy’s magic user back?

While we are talking with facial expressions, a die rolls. “Twelve for initiative.”

Andre sends me a shrug of I-guess-we-are-doing-this. “Sixteen.”

“Five” I say, then mouth ‘sorry’ to Emily.

She gives me the same smile I gave the party after a superhero TPK three months ago where they ended up in the realm of Death and Dreams, before looking down behind her screen with an air of concentration. Not good.

I notice her scratching out things with her pencil and writing new stuff. “So, what are you doing Em?”

“Hmm.” She casually raises her eyes with an innocent look on her face.

No DM ever gives a look that innocent without doing evil things.

“What.are.you.doing, Em?” I clearly enunciate each word.

“Oh, nothing big. I’m adding a hit point for each die of the dragon since …someone…” Emily glares at Jeremy, “cut me off.”

“Hey, that is not fair.” The man protests.

She points a finger at him. “Zip it. I spent hours on this campaign. I can choose to alter things.” Emily drops her voice. “Pray I do not alter the contract further.”

“You can’t just—”

“No.” I yelp, and Chris hits Jeremy with his journal. Simultaneously, on Jeremy’s other side, where the three core friends of the group sit on the couch, Andre says, “Dude, don’t.”

“Max hit point it is.”

Mark palms his face and mutters. “I’m getting the strap tonight.”

“If you survive,” Emily blows him a kiss.

“Jeremy, let me explain to you a fact of life.” Chris says, reopening his journal to the appropriate page. “DMs are gods. We live in their worlds. You, my friend, are crunchy and taste good with ketchup. Do not antagonize them.”

“Whatever.”

“Everyone else, your initiatives please?” Emily pulls her sweet persona around herself, and the guys relax.

Six and eleven finishes out the group.

“The dragon’s initiative is a 23, and her mate’s rolled fifteen.”

Chris surges forward on the sofa. “What mate?”

“The one I would have described. Why don’t you roll perception and if you get a ten, I’ll give you the sheet to read. Your fighter has that study opponent’s skill, right?”

Chris didn’t even hesitate on the roll, “Fifteen, give it here. I don’t get to act until six so I got time to read it.”

After creasing the paper and tearing off a small part, Emily passes the rest of the paper to me, since I am the closest to the DM table. I do a quick glance over the sheet and notice the words nest and eggs. Wincing, I rock forward on hands and knees to reach over to where Chris sits on the couch.

“Now, where were we?” Emily picks up her favorite silver and black twenty-sider and contemplates it. “Ah yes, a towering ice dragon and a party threatening her. I do believe her first action is to breathe. So nice of you to be clumped together after going through the ravine. Everyone roll dodge.”

(word 765; first published 3/3/2024)

Roleplaying Group Series

  1. Roll to Hit the Ceiling (5/30/2021)
  2. When a DM asks a question, you say yes (7/28/2024)