Friday, February 7, 2014

Hark 2.0

Here's my 100 word offering, enjoy!

I called him Hark. Not short for Harker, or Harkley, but after the Middle English word for ‘listen’.

“Are you listening?”

It was always on his lips, a prequel to whatever else he had to say.

Not so much a question, but an order. A warning.

Stop what you’re doing.

Pay attention.


Before he asked what I wanted to drink, or which movie to see. On the sofa, curled into one another, and entwined in the sheets of his bed.

But most of all in the classroom.

“Are you listening? This will be on your English 9 final exam.”


  1. So, does that mean Hark is a father or ... another kind of relationship? I think I might be reading something in it that isn't there :) Also, good on limiting it to 100 words. Your arm will be happy. Hopefuly.

    1. nope, I think you're reading correctly :p

      ...again, the reason why I don't write romance...

      yup, gotta take care of the arm ;) like you have to take care of your back!

  2. “I called him Hark. I called him that cuz that is what he did, duh! He listened like how even Mummy doesn’t. I was cryin’ in the playground because Mr. Smelly was hidin’ in the trees an’ bad things happened when Mr. Smelly went in the woods an’ Hark walked over. He was an adult, an’ mom had always said not to trust strangers but I never understood why because Daddy hit me more than strangers ever did an’ he wasn’t a stranger at all! Hark didn’t need to smile to seem nice an’ asked me what was wrong an’ I told him Mr. Smelly was missin’ an’ it’s scary when your invisible friend goes missin’.

    “The police end up around, then, and Daddy don’t like the police.

    “An’ hark listened to me like adults never do and looked at the woods, then back at me. “You know Mr Smelly is real, don’t you?” he said, an’ his voice was very quiet and lots scary but not about me. I said that was silly and Hark smiled real strange. “There are many silly things in the world. Friends being real is one of those. But Mr. Smelly isn’t your friend.”

    “An’ he stood up and told Mr. Smelly to come out of the trees an’ Mr. Smelly was covered in blood an’ as huge as a tree, with branches for arms and a face th – th – that. I don’ wanna talk about his face. It smelled worse than Mr. Smelly, his real face did. And Hark asked it why it was here an’ that there were laws an’ using me was wrong an’ he said wrong like Mummy did when Daddy hit me but he hits her then so she don’t say it much at all anymore an’ Hark told Mr. Smelly he was GOING TO LEAVE! Like he shouted it without shoutin’ at all! An’ then he said Mr. Smelly was going to do something good before he left, but I don’ think he spoke with words?

    “I dunno what he did but Mr. Smelly vanished and Hark turned to me and crouched down like adults don’t so our eyes met right and said Daddy wasn’t gonna bother me again cuz Mr. Smelly was gonna scare him but good an’ I asked how he knew an’ he said he was a magician, but couldn’t make me not late for classes, an’ smiled when he said it. I hadn’t heard the bell at all so I ran back an’ that is why I was late, Mrs. Principal.

    “Can I go back to class now?

    1. oh Alcar -- that was simply wonderful - the idea and the execution. Bravo!!!

    2. Hahahaha! Oh my goodness, so funny and so awesome Alcar!!

      Thanks for feeding me some awesome flash fiction!

      ...hope you can rest your back this weekend and feel better.

    3. Here is mine. Don't have time to edit.

      I called him Hark.

      It’s the Christmas season, not that I have anything to be cheery about, I’m still living in my cardboard box on Church Road.

      ‘Hark the Herald Angels Sing’ blares through the speakers at the Eaton Centre and unconsciously I hum along.

      As I stand on the snowy street, my feet are cold even though I had wrapped them in newspaper in my running shoes; although the sun feels good on my back.

      A dog comes up to me, sniffs my foot and wags his tail then sits looking up to me with what appears to be a smile, as if he’s saying, “Hello friend..” He’s a funny looking thing, chocolate brown dachshund. He looks like one of the sausages the near-by food vendor is selling off his wagon. I am salivating at the odor and I think the dog probably is too.

      I look at the animal and say “Hark.” I don’t know why I said that. He jumps up from his sitting position onto all fours, wags his tail so fast the little stub is a blur and licks my hand.

      I had seen the dog around before, he has no tags so perhaps he’s homeless and a stray the same as me.

      His reaction to “Hark” was like it’s his name. So now I have a dog. Just what I don’t need.

    4. I like the cardboard box and church link. Also, I like how the ending isn't christmas cheer, but more 'aw, no' .... you get a lot of who the narrator is in a very short piece. Along with a clever way to fit hark into it.

    5. Nice one, Sue!

      Yeah, I agree with Alcar, no sappy-happy-Christmas ending ;)

      Though comparing the dog to a sausage... makes me wonder how long his pet will last when he gets hungry... (O_o)

    6. well there's a whole other story with this but not now.