Flash Fiction Freakshow

By Greg Jackson

Welcome to the Freakshow! This is a collection of flash fiction stories from the warped mind of Greg Jackson, author of Operation Mistletoe and Fractured: Athena Rising.

There are 32 Flash Fiction short stories centered around the human condition. Sadness, despair, love, redemption...vampires and werewolves! From gritty Westerns and behind to the future and beyond, the Freakshow has them! And yes, there is even a clown.

Also in this collection is a short story entitled "Fallout", a post-apocalyptic tale with a Steampunk flare. "Fallout" is not flash fiction, it is a 5,000 word short story added as a bonus.

Advisory: This collection does not contain adult content as far as "adults only", but there is some content that may not be suitable for younger readers. There is violence and some adult language. Enjoy them but please use discretion before letting your children read them.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Greg Jackson
• Release date: Jan 24, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301197200

Greg Jackson

Greg Jackson is author of Prodigals: Stories, for which he received the National Book Foundation's 5 Under 35 award and the Bard Fiction Prize. In 2017, he was named one of Granta's Best Young American Novelists. His fiction and essays have appeared in The New Yorker, The New York Times, Granta, Tin House, Vice, Conjunctions, Virginia Quarterly Review, the Los Angeles Times, the Los Angeles Review of Books, and The Guardian, among other places.

Book preview

Flash Fiction Freakshow

Smashwords Edition: Copyright 2013 by Greg Jackson

Cover created by Greg Jackson

All stories contained herein are fictional. Any resemblance to any person, living or dead is purely coincidental.

For other books from Greg Jackson, please visit www.lankymania.com

Thank you to my fans who emailed me about writing some flash fiction. It was a fun experience all around.

Advisory: Some content may not be suitable for younger readers. Please use your discretion.

This book is fondly dedicated to my friends and family who enjoy reading the excerpts that have been rattling around in my dusty old head, looking for a means of escape.

And to the woman I can’t seem to get out of my head. You are a true muse in every sense of the word. And if our paths ever cross again, I will thank you in person.

*The story entitled Fallout is not a flash fiction piece. It is a short story based on a larger story that was included in this collection. It does not fall under the length guidelines of the other flash fiction stories contained in this collection and is not to be labeled as such.

Welcome to the Freakshow

The wooden wheels clicked and clacked on the cobblestone streets as the horse-drawn cart finally settled into the town’s common square under the creaking of the old wooden spokes. This little village was an anomaly, in which peasants were held to almost an equal class as far as the terms of the commons were concerned. The upper class would come down and purchase their trinkets from the lesser classes and so forth. It was a true capitalist market and a microcosm of the perfect world in which the driver of the buggy relied on.

Benjamin Blasko hobbled out of the compartment of the wooden wagon and dressed on nothing but a dusty black coat, no one thought anything different than Benjamin being a pass-through with his store on wheels. But as he opened the wooden flap, which bore his name, he placed the poles in their holes to create his awning.

People started gathering around now, watching as he pulled wheeled carts full of his Blasko Elixirs into view. The commoners have seen snake oil salesmen before. This was nothing new, the only difference being that this was no snake oil salesman. No, he had curtains in his shop, high-backed chairs upholstered with the finest materials and a table between them as he pulled out the makeshift living space.

He didn’t say anything and his six-foot-four frame was haunting as his thin body slithered around the stage like a snake working his way around the limb of a tree. He wore a thin face and facial hair that was a small mustache linked to a beard solely on his chin. The remaining flesh was clean shaven, showing the shadows of his gaunt cheeks.

The crowd grew to over a hundred people of different classes as the creepy man hummed among the clinking of glassware and bottles filled with different colors of liquid. The clinks of the bottles were of every different volume, considering how full or empty they were and one could make the argument that this creepy, lanky salesman was making music for them.

Blasko looked at them and picked a young boy out of the crowd, who was standing with his sister. They were dirty little creatures, but then again, children needed to be dirty. Cleanliness in childhood is the equivalent of having no fun.

You children! He exclaimed as they watched from their wide, curious eyes. I will pay you to assist me!

The children ran up and stood at his feet, staring up at the man who seemed to end about a mile up from where their eyes were.

Now. Blasko said. Which of you has the nimblest fingers?

The girl raised her hand.

Beautiful! Blasko exclaimed loudly. You, my dear will assist me in distribution of my wonderful elixirs. You will receive one shilling for your work.

One shilling! She yelled. Where do I start, sir?

Oh, I love the enthusiasm of youth! He said as he called the boy over. And you, my dear boy will be in charge of two things. You will also receive one shilling for cranking the phonograph on my cue and assisting this young woman when you are done.

One shilling for two jobs? He asked.

My dear boy, when you have an opportunity, you do not squander it on competitive details. Remember that or you will never rise beyond your limitations. Your work is honest work here today and you shall be paid in full.

Yes, sir. The boy said as he disappeared to find the phonograph. Blasko nodded at the boy and cued him to start.

Mozart’s Requiem in D Minor blasted out of the brass cone and Blasko moved in unison with it, turning into a theatrical creature. He unbuttoned his black cloak and in a flourish he whipped it around as it spun from his skinny neck, revealing a brilliant dark emerald suit that seemed to shimmer in the light.

Ladies and gentlemen! Blasko boomed across the crowd, causing every head to turn to the lanky man who slithered to the soundtrack that backed him. My name is the Great Benjamin Blasko! I am known to few and admired by fewer and yes, one might see that as a bad thing, but be advised, fair townspeople, I am not remembered as a man but for the product that brings imaginative entertainment to life!

The crowd started to clap at the enthusiasm he was giving off.

Ladies and gentlemen, I am here with a humble heart. I am offering today the one thing that will show you the aspects of the human condition. Yes, my sweet elixirs are scientifically designed to give the drinker unlimited access to their imaginations. Think of it! One drink of my elixir and suddenly the written word will hop off the page, igniting a sense of wonder, of whimsy…of…horror into the recesses of the human brain. You will see the human condition in various forms. You will see sadness, regret, laughter, despair, vengeance and for those of you who have a stronger mental fortitude, I can offer such tales as the true brutality of vampirism and the less-than-delicate transformation of boy to beast.

The crowd cheered again.

Yes! Blasko boomed again. You will be able to read things from the future, from the recent past and in most aspects of the human condition! My elixirs may make you think, or they may make you look at things again but my dear townspeople, I can assure you that my elixirs are meant solely to entertain, to escape the doldrums of common life for a little while.

Blasko smiled as the people looked up at him.

Step right up! He said. Three shillings per elixir and one pound for a bottle of each! I have misery, hope, action, western adventures and morality tales…horror and drama, you name it and it’s available for consumption!

The townspeople all held out their money frantically.

Blasko smiled. Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the freakshow!

The Fool and The Queen of Pentacles

Chris Brannigan walked into the small tent, leaving his girlfriend outside, texting. This was her idea to come to the carnival in the first place and if this tent meant that he could escape her ranting for five minutes, so be it.

Hello. The gypsy woman said as she sat down at her small table. She was just about the same age as Chris, if not a year or so younger. Are you here for a reading?

She looked at him as if she was looking right through him. She tried to hide the small amount of admiration she was feeling for this man in her tent.

I sense that you are hiding in here from someone. She said, her dark eyes cradled with her delicately soft dark hair.

Not hiding, just catching a breath for five minutes.

My name is Mirela. She said.

That’s pretty.

It’s Romanian. It means…to admire. She said. You seem on edge, as if you wish to be somewhere else right now. Possibly working on a new story?

How did you…

Relax. Mirela