He’s fighting the wrong enemy. He’s fighting victimhood by convincing himself there’s dignity to be found in “rising above”.

But now Flynn’s floored him.

And in front of the girls.

So he does what he was told and anchors himself to the wall where Miss is talking. He isn’t earwigging but he hears what she says to that student teacher. He re-joins the slipstream, strides out of the school. Nobody stops him! He is out into the roaring air, into the city and on to the museum.

He starts with a portrait, a man from history: all puffing and velvet. But it’s too easy so he heads for the biggest thing they’ve got: the mammoth. He stands before it. It swells to twice its size.

Shit.

He drops his head and braces against a whack from its trunk.

On a new day, he visits the mammoth again though. And again and again until…….

Flynn is within touching distance and lifting his fist to

“Look at me!” I bellowed. “Look me in the eye!”

mammoth-756975_1920
This piece of Flash Fiction was inspired by this tweet by Tomas Doran, his response to a Standard Issue article about misheard song lyrics. I’ve wrestled with this story for a while and still don’t know if its quite there yet, but I enjoyed writing it. I also enjoyed the resulting earworm

If you liked this read:
May you always
The Ten of Cups
The Lollypop Man