Sunday, June 03, 2012

Flash Fiction: They Called Him Flash

By Eugene H. Maze

They called him Flash, but few remember him. That name, however, was no less a misnomer than that magnificent canyon of North American Earth they named “The Grand Canyon.” For flash assumes that an appearance is made for the length of a moment that can not only be seen, but also remembered. He was faster than a flash.

In his younger days, time confused him. His appearance would be as a passing shadow or merely a thought. It had taken him well over one hundred years to learn to slow himself for observation of his surroundings or observation by things that could observe him. He was faster than a twinkle; quicker than a wink; light itself could not see him move. Just a thought from Flash’s brain (though that itself had become a misnamed organ) and he would be gone before the eye could detect him.

But, Flash desired something so great that not even one born in the forty-second century, and with such power, dared to dream. He wanted to be noticed. He wanted to be touched; held, yes, a second of a human touch on his body. Yet, more than that, he wanted to say something that would be heard.

All space was conquered. The depths of physics, infinity itself was disproved—religion, politics, peace. There was no more to discover, nothing left to explore, no great existence lay in the outer realms of the great cosmos. Flash found it all quite boring to have discovered the meaning of life and that life was infinitely approaching another traffic jam. At least that’s what he called each new discovery that proved, finally, and once and for all that there was nothing new under the sun. This sun, in the Earth year 4112 still burned in a solar system that his ancestors had abandoned a thousand years earlier.

Flash … was lonely.

Such a strange word. I mentioned that to him one day when he told me he wanted to visit the planet of his ancestors. He had ‘all of all there is’ and that his desire to communicate once again on such a low level was not befitting. But, like I said, he was only one hundred years of that earth’s rotating around its sun, so he had time to waste – so to speak.

Flash had a plan. He would reveal himself in words. Communicating with someone, anyone, required only finding a way to leave an impression. How could he leave his mark if all others were unable to train their eyes to see him? How would he leave his mark? He had long ago realized that being faster than a flash made it impossible for a sound to be heard, let alone understood.

Leave a mark! That’s what he decided. It was a moment of enlightenment that brought the first glimpse of joy to his heart. He would write something. He would leave an impression by those two old relics: the greatest means of communication in the ancient of days.

It would be so easy – replicate pen and paper, confident of his access to their proper assembly. Surely, someone still understood the written language. Most assuredly, after he succeeds to write what he wanted to write someone would discover it.

Before he even thought about what to write, the pen appeared with the blank page lying underneath. And the moment he wrote the first word – no, the moment the pen touched the paper – the first stroke of the first letter of his message was written to a world that could never comprehend him … FLASH!

copyright, 2012 by Eugene H. Maze

Read an interview with Jeff Gerke here.


Mary C. Findley said...

I'm sorry, I really don't understand.

Debby Alten said...

Really? My take? And it is just my take on it. But I see it like the world not comprehending or even recognizing God; nor being able to hear Him anymore. That we've gone so far into ourselves, making new discoveries etc. that we have not only forgotten Him but we no longer see a need for him yet we are destined to repeat bad history again. Wow, maybe I'm over-analyzing. LOL.

Andy Poole said...

Overall, the story was different and thoughtful.

My analysis: The story to me is about a being's deep desire for interaction with a human being and be remembered. For all that he is able to observe of humans, he is lonely. He tries to communicate with humankind through writing. Shakespeare wrote sonnets about the the fleetingness of life and how your memory could live on in writing. There is also a contrast between humans and Flash; Flash can see all these things that humans can't, while humans are constantly stuck in the same blindness that's plagued them throughout human history. I think the author is showing by having humans two millennia from our time that humans by their nature are blind to the truth.

"Infinity itself was disproved—religion, politics, peace." I cannot agree there, as Scripture is very specific about eternity. "life was infinitely approaching another traffic jam." Kind of self-defeating when infinity was disproved...

Story took me to outer space and peering over Earth. :)

The Gatekeeper said...

Yes, true about infinity. I thought about that too. But then again, maybe it can still hit another traffic jam while still continuing. Oh wait, if infinity is disproved, does that mean it's all finite? Infinity can still continue through a traffic jam in another world?

The story also took me to outer space peering over Earth.

eugene maze said...

So, Mary is the only one who did understand - LOL! I do, however, have one question: since when did fiction need to be correct? Thanks for the comments. That was fun. I will do it again sometime (at the next traffic jam). ;o)