Dreams Realized by Carey Miller

It's the last day of the month and we have a very brave and wonderful writer who submitted a bit of flash fiction to us based on this month's photo:

If you enjoy her work, let her know! And if this submission inspires you to submit something of your own for October, we'd be delighted to read and post it. And now, without further ado, here is our submission from Carey Miller.

Mutant powers. I'd always wanted them, dreamed of which would be best, and joked about sticking myself in the microwave to speed things along. Movies and television made them seem almost a curse, but I knew better. Wonderful adventures would be mine once I could fly or turn invisible.

I'd always been given everything I wanted and this, I was sure, would be no different. Money, looks and popularity had been mine since birth. My parents were absentee and indulgent. Clothes, jewels, my own car, and expensive dance lessons... nothing was too good for their only child. It was fabulous.

And then it happened.

Interpretive dance is a hearty workout. You sweat. A lot. So I didn't notice at first that I had water seeping from my hands.

After class, in the locker room with the other girls, my sweating didn't stop. I hopped in the shower and turned it full blast to cold. Cold water is better for you after a workout anyway and surely it would do the trick, but no such luck. The sweat was just a light trickle, but annoying. And kind of embarrassing, too. So I hid it from the others and headed out the door.

I got into the car and cranked the air up as high as it would go, then alternated hands, holding them in front of the a/c vents. Nothing worked. Worry set in.

My parents weren't home when I got there. No surprise, but it would have been nice to run this issue past them and get some advice.

With that option gone, I instead headed for my basement sanctuary, wrapped my hands in towels, and worried.

As I was sitting curled in an old recliner, I realized my arms were now sweating profusely as well. Followed by my chest. Then legs.

They say reaction to stressful situations results in flight or fright. I can only assume that fright means frozen in place, unable to decide what to do. That's apparently my way.

But I didn't smell bad. Not to be gross, but sweat is stinky and the liquid now flowing freely from my body just smelled fresh and clean. I quickly touched the tip of my tongue to my hand. Water, not sweat. Things had just gotten more bizarre.

My mind started wandering through the possibilities. What could be happening to me?

When I come back to earth, I realize the water is lapping at the seat of the chair. I stand and my dance dress floats around me like a white cloud. I can't go out into the world. What if the water never stops and I drown everybody in the world?

So I stand and wait for the water to cover my face. Drowning should be a relatively quick death and surely when my heart stops beating, the water will cease as well.

But that's not what happens. Instead, I instinctively hold my breath and kick off from the ground, performing a perfect ballet passe. I shoot to the surface with an undeniable will to live.

This story was sent to us by Carey Miller. She's worked for the Manatee Chamber of Commerce for the past 12 years. She's a Bradenton, Florida native, married with no kids and this is her first written piece.



Photo by Phoebe Rudomino
Story by Carey Miller