I have a flash fiction piece, "Night School", accepted for publication. It appears in the inaugural volume of the Antifa Literary Journal. You can order the journal anywhere books are sold (I recommend bookshop.org).
A few years ago, I published a flash piece in a now-defunct distribution called "Flash In A Flash." I will paste it in now, for those that were unable to see it before. (This has one or two minor edits to the as-finished.)
Looking back, I think this piece depicts how my writing has grown over the years, which I think is common to many writers.
Snake Charmer
by Kent Karnofski
Ulanda could charm a snake. You know, the king cobra, just like the cartoons. Woven basket, flute, turban, the whole stereotype, except Ulanda was a woman. And not Egyptian.
Ulanda learned her craft from Aunt Pete in Peru. She visited one Winter; Summer outside of Lima, up the mountainside, not far from the Incan Trail that leads to The Lost City. That’s a special place. And a different story.
Ulanda learned her craft the way Aunt Pete did, under the watchful eye of a charming expert. One false move, one misunderstanding between snake and charmer, one moment of lost attention, and Ulanda would be a goner. Aunt Pete used a stick, branched and notched, to maneuver her snake if it got rambunctious; this snake already knew the drill, and was relatively patient with Ulanda.
Once she learned to charm a cobra and care for it, Ulanda carved her own flute from the hardwoods of the tropical forest. She also made her own basket woven from dry reeds found near the riverbanks outside Aunt Pete’s hut. She still needed a king cobra of her own, but Peru is more than a little shy when it comes to cobras of any kind. (I just checked. There are 270 different types of cobra and related species. They are all short of fang and are all extremely poisonous.)
Ulanda returned to Portland, bringing her basket, flute, and new-found knowledge from Peru. Portland, by the way, is also bereft of the cobra family. What else could she do? She booked passage to Egypt.
From Cairo, she traveled far south to the Toshka Lakes and the Al Wadi Al Gadid Desert. Perfect location. An oasis. Food, water, gorgeous sunrises, with pinks and oranges floating across the lake waters, still in the morning air. Charmable snakes abundant in the lakeshore reeds.
The Egyptian cobra, from the family elapidae, also known as Naja haje, or asp, are huge. Colorful! And deadly. They do not appear to have charm, but with just the right ballad and just the right wiggle of the flute, well, you know.
After a couple of days and a hundred ballads, Ulanda had succeeded in charming a snake, and returned to Cairo. He would dance for her, sleep upon command, eat rodents from her hand, and even bit a pickpocket when Ulanda was asleep. Poor bastard.
She obtained the appropriate export license for a dangerous weapon. Waiting to receive her permits from the United States, she soaked in the exotic scenes, sights, and scents of Cairo. She bought a prayer rug at the bazaar. She knitted her own turban from the yarns of camel hair.
And then she went home with her basket, flute, turban, rug, and snake. Once home, she set up a large glass cage with warm lights, clean, dried grasses, and soft music. Apparently, Raul, the snake, preferred Chopin and Eno, when Ulanda was not playing the flute.
Everyday at Noon, Ulanda would go down to the Little U.N., near Pioneer Square in downtown Portland, with her basket, flute, turban, and king cobra. She would set herself up on the little prayer rug, with a tip jar, and charm her socks off, collecting whatever spare change passers by chose to give her. Or give to Raul. Its hard to tell one’s intentions sometimes. She made a killing with that poisonous snake. Everyone loved her. Thankfully, everyone avoided Raul.