I thought since I'm finished posting one novel and not yet ready to post the next, I'd show you all why I write long-form and should never be allowed near the short-story club.
This piece is my one and only official attempt at flash fiction. It was for a college writing course. We had to compose it in under ten minutes or so, and it had to be under a certain number of words. I don't recall all the specifics. I do recall that I had to read it aloud when it was finished. Har. Har. I think I got a lot of blank stares.
In my defense, it didn't come out of the blue completely. I'm pretty sure I had the Decemberists song "The Mariner's Revenge" stuck in my head, which would have reminded me of Jonah and the whale, which would have reminded me of Revelations 3:15-16, which goes something like this: "I know thy works, that thou art neither cold nor hot: I would thou wert cold or hot. So then because thou art lukewarm, and neither cold nor hot, I will spue thee out of my mouth."
I remember learning that verse as a child and finding it rather odd… because if you were in some huge mouth, wouldn't you want to be spit out? I would. The absurd train of thought I allowed myself in the minutes I was given to compose a flash fiction piece led to the story of a man who desperately wants to be spit out of what he believes is the mouth of his god, so he tries to convince a whale he's a bad person. In the end, it is only his insincere humility that frees him.
And in case you were wondering, yes, I am this strange.