Flash fiction AI can't imitate.
An empty suit of knightly armor decorates the halls of a forgotten mansion. A sticky patina of dust, cobwebs and soot has embalmed the surface of its whilom shining metal.
It’s inhabited by the ghost of a peasant child, that once dreamed.
— Bastian Espada
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“What is the meaning of life?” the sentient pebble asked.
“Depends on what you mean by meaning,” the pointy rock — its sensei — answered.
“You mean to ask me what meaning means?”
“That’s exactly what I meant to do.”
“You’re making me confused!”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to.”
— Bastian Espada
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“Are you ready for another adventure?” Ms. Frizzle said.
“Yes!” the children yelled.
“What are we learning about today?” Dorothy Ann asked.
Ms. Fizzle stepped on the gas. “The great beyond!”
The magic school bus swerved onto oncoming traffic.
The children yelled.
— Bastian Espada
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“This is fantastic!” the man said, adjusting his monocle. “I’ve never seen Tchaikovsky’s masterpiece before.”
“...”
“What is it darling?”
“I’m sorry, I think I should’ve been clearer. This isn’t a showing of The Nutcracker, it’s the Nutcracker!” the woman said.
“That’s somewhat disappointing, no wonder we have front-row seats. Is this some sort of different version?”
“Well, in a way.”
The lights went down, the curtain rose.
Twenty ballerinas glided onto the stage, tiptoeing in perfect synchronization with the music. The melody swelled. The dancers weaved a tapestry of movement — pas de quatre, grand jeté, double cabriole derrière — inducing a state of dream-like awe in the audience.
The lead ballerina spun forward until she was caressing the very edge of the stage. She leapt— face first, mouth open — onto the front row.
The man screamed.
— Bastian Espada
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The living always smile,
The dead never do,
I may be a little bit of both,
I only smile when I see you.
— Bastian Espada
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An ornery ocean batters the trunk of a vacant lighthouse. It sits atop a craggy escarpment —overlooking the nocturnal horizon.
The flicker of a large ship’s steering light can be seen at the skyline’s edge.
It navigates using GPS.
— Bastian Espada
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-
“No kinder season have you brought me, than this one before your expiration,” Luna said to Sol, “for your arms now stretch, at the billiard hour.”
“And yet I curse the fates, my dear moon. For it's only now that mine core's hydrogen has been made vacant, and I stare death in the face, that I can finally embrace, your sweet silver skin.”
“Perish your bitter rumination, my dear star— for we are to become as one. Dust to dust and gas to gas, forevermore in the vast expanse.”
Sol smiled.
Luna Smiled.
Billions of living things on earth screamed in terror.
— Bastian Espada
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“I love the smell of mushrooms and onions.”
“Huh, never tried that dish.”
“Oh, not because of food. That’s how my boyfriend’s armpits smell.”
— Bastian Espada
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“I aimed for the moon, ended up hitting the stars.”
“…”
“Then the stars got angry, ‘tarted looking for me, give me the ol’ one-two.”
“…”
“So I had to hide, ya know? Found this place.”
“…”
“Look, I’m sorry for secretly moving into your attic and living here for the past couple of years. Let’s start over alright? The name is John, glad to meet ya.”
— Bastian Espada
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“I do think fear is a seasonal thing,” the woman said.
“How so?”
“You see, when Halloween rolls around everyone is oh-so-scared of clowns.” She lit a cigarette and uncrossed her legs. “Yet once October is over, they vote them into office.”
— Bastian Espada
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