The banner headlines scroll along the bottom of the screen on the display model in the TV shop. The two boys pause to read:

Santa Claus’s violation of restricted air space continues to be a major concern, according to military sources…

Slump in the economy blamed on Santa's Elves sourcing parts for their toys from places like China and Indonesia “... places that don't even celebrate Christmas!” said one industry spokesman

Child in Yorkshire traumatised when the snowman he built started dancing…

﾿ ‘Poor kid,’ says Paul. ‘That's why I never make snowmen, especially close to Christmas.’

﾿ ‘Why is there always so much hoopla about Santa every Christmas?’

﾿ ‘Donno. I don't think there even is a Santa Claus.’

﾿ ‘What about all that violating the no-fly zone and all that?’ asks Johnny.

﾿ ‘Probably just a really fancy UFO or something.’

﾿ ‘Yeah, you're probably right.’

Johnny has only known Paul since the beginning of the school year, but they're already best friends.

﾿ Tonight, he's sleeping over at Johnny's house, and they're in the corner, building things with Johnny's legos while all the grown-ups are watching a game show on TV.

﾿ Several of Johnny's other relations are over on a visit, as one of the contestants on the game show is Cindy, Johnny's young looking aunt with the long beautiful blond hair. And now it appears that Aunt Cindy is the lucky winner! She is granted three wishes. All the adults are glued to the screen, but Johnny and Paul go on with their playing, only giving mild attention to what's happening.

﾿ The game show hostess, a half size human in a glittering white dress, holding a wand, hovering in mid air with the aid of her dragonfly wings, says, ‘Name your three wishes, and they'll be granted.’

﾿ Aunt Cindy says, ‘Let me see, how about a Lamborghini?’

﾿ The hostess says, ‘Granted!’, waves her wand, and a Lamborghini materialises on the set.

﾿ The adults in the room gasp, saying things like, ‘Ooo!’ ‘I hope she takes us on a ride!’ etc.

﾿ ‘Dream on!’ says Aunt Margaret, an elderly relative, as she walks into the room. ‘That leach will never do a good turn for anyone!’

﾿ ‘That’s for sure,’ said Johnny, only loud enough for Paul to hear, ‘but neither will Aunt Margaret.’

﾿ The game show hostess goes on, ‘What's your second wish?’

﾿ ‘A cryptocurrency account containing a billion Bubblecoins!’

﾿ The fairy presenter waves her wand, and Aunt Cindy's phone dings a message. She looks at her phone and squeals with delight, jumping up and down.

﾿ ‘Hah!’ scoffs Aunt Margaret. ‘Now, all I have to do is go onto that show and wish the bottom drops out of the Bubblecoin market, and that car deteriorates into a pile of rust - and, lemme see, third wish: all her hair falls out!’

﾿ ‘And your third wish?’

﾿ A naughty look appears on Aunt Cindy's face. ‘I wish my worst enemy would drop dead!’

﾿ The fairy replies, ‘Oooh! What a dark naughty wish!’ She waves her wand.

﾿ Immediately, Aunt Margaret clutches her chest and collapses. Uncle Pete runs to her to help her to try to help her. Aunt Jane, a nurse, also helps.

﾿ On the screen, Aunt Cindy's phone dings again. She looks at it and cries, ‘Oh no! My Bubblecoins are worthless!’

﾿ ‘Of course they’d be,’ says Paul. ‘A billion of them suddenly added would make the rest of them almost nothing.’

﾿ Then there's a noise behind her. She whirls around to find that the Lamborghini has crumbled into a pile of rust.

﾿ ‘Probably made of cardboard to begin with, ’ says Paul. ‘I mean, where's a fairy gonna get a Lamborghini to start with?’

﾿ ‘Oh dear!’ says the fairy. ‘That poor soul must have been watching, and made a wish or two herself!’

﾿ ‘But - but…’ She's distracted as her hair begins falling out.

﾿ Aunt Jane can't find any vital signs.

﾿ ’Don't you know?’ the fairy goes on, ‘Whenever you make a death wish, the last wishes of the victim also come to pass.’

﾿ Now, nobody's paying attention to the TV, as they're all gathered around Aunt Margaret, saying things like, ‘That Cindy’s done it now!’ ‘She’s gone too far this time!’

﾿ The two boys are on their feet, but they can't get any closer, as the grownups are crowded around her.

﾿ On the TV screen, a bald Aunt Cindy is in hysterics, and is being carried off the set.

﾿ ‘Hah! Serves her right!’ says Uncle Albert.

﾿ ‘She'll never be welcome in this house again!’ says Johnny's mum.

﾿ Aunt Margaret wasn't that type of person in his life that Johnny was likely to miss very badly, but still - wishing her dead?

﾿ Johnny asks Paul, ‘Do you really think it was Aunt Cindy's wish that killed Aunt Margaret?’

﾿ ‘Naa. I'm sure there's a natural explanation.’

At recess, the kids are lounging on the climbing frame, discussing the history lesson.

﾿ ‘I don't believe all that, what Ms Maier said about King Gilbert,’ says Sally. ‘Was he really a frog before Queen Mabel kissed him?’

﾿ ‘If I were him,’ said Paul, ‘I'd go look for that witch and call her a smelly whore or something, so she'd turn me back into a frog again.’

﾿ The kids all laugh.

﾿ ‘Yeah,’ responds Jennifer. ‘He never looks very happy, does he!’

﾿ ‘I'm sure frogs are a lot happier,’ says Hank.

﾿ ‘If he was a frog,’ says Johnny. ‘I mean, do you really believe all that?’

﾿ ‘Not really.’

﾿ ‘No.’

﾿ ‘Hoi! You lot of little twits!’ It was one of the big kids. ‘You don't believe the king transformed from a frog? You probably don't even believe in Santa Claus, or the Easter Bunny, I bet. You a bunch of babies or what?’

﾿ They're all quiet.

﾿ ‘Well, I've grown outta that, so I have. Why, when I get bigger, I'm gonna go fight a dragon, and win me a princess, so I will! I don't know about you soppy lot.’

﾿ He walks away as the kids make faces.

﾿ Hank says, ‘They always get like that when they get bigger.’

﾿ ‘Gosh! I Hope I don't,’ says Jennifer.

﾿ Johnny and Paul are finally by themselves.

﾿ Johnny tells Paul, ‘If we could wish for things and they come to pass, do you know what I'd wish for?’

﾿ ‘What?’

﾿ ‘I'd wish I'd stop growing, so I don't become like that.’

﾿ ‘I tried that already.’

﾿ ‘How?’

﾿ ‘I was out with my mummy shopping,’ Paul began, ‘and I see a coin. I pick it up, and mum sees it and gets all excited, and says, “That's a magic coin! Go right now and throw it into that well over there - the wishing well - and make a wish!” I really don’t want to. I’d rather spend it on gummy bears. But she makes me do it, and she tells me, “Don't tell anyone your wish.” So I make a wish that I’ll never grow up, so I never have to believe all this stuff.’

﾿ ‘Now you done gone and told me!’

﾿ ‘I don't mind. Wishes like that don't work anyway, and besides, that was twenty years ago.’

www.RobbyCharters.co.uk #FlashFiction #Scifi #Fantasy #SFF

Part 1 -- The History of Phisics

'...simple machines, in themselves basic concepts, that make more complicated machines possible. I think you can name a few. Carter?'

﾿ 'The wheel?'

﾿ 'Very good. That was a major accomplishment that revolutionised transportation. Any more?'

﾿ 'The lever...'

﾿ '...fire...'

﾿ '...inclined plane...'

﾿ '...pully...'

﾿ 'That's an application of the wheel, stupid!'

﾿ 'Very good answers, all,' responded the professor. 'The wheel, especially. We don't know who invented the wheel, but imagine how it revolutionised everything. It's so basic to everything. We even have expressions like, "re-inventing the wheel"...'

﾿ 'That's okay! As long as you don't take out a patent, right?'

﾿ 'Oh, Geoffrey! That joke's so old!'

﾿ 'But try to imagine, again,' the professor went on, 'how many years of unrecorded history humanity lived and worked without the aid of the wheel, dragging things on sticks, carrying no more than could be carried on their back, or on a beast of burden, or...'

﾿ 'How stupid!'

﾿ 'But wait,' corrected the professor. 'While it seems to us like such a simple, basic concept, that we can't imagine people not thinking of it, remember, that's only our own vantage point as people who know about it already. If you'd never heard of it, how long would it take for you to think of it? Ask yourself that, and be honest.'

﾿ 'Yeah!'

﾿ 'But it's still hard to imagine.'

﾿ '-- not hard to imagine you not ...'

﾿ 'Shut up!'

﾿ 'And, think of how many millennia of unrecorded history humanity actually lived through, never having thought of it. Can anyone think of how the wheel may have indirectly contributed to our beginning to record history?'

﾿ 'I know! Ball point pens!'

﾿ 'Geoffrey! You're such a ...'

﾿ 'Rebecca?' said the professor.

﾿ 'The wheel probably helped to make history worthwhile recording.'

﾿ 'Very good point.'

'I'm such a what?'

'Forget it.'

﾿ 'Now,' the professor continued, 'can you think of any inventions made during recorded history that had as profound an impact as the wheel?'

﾿ 'The printing press?'

'No! Tell me, what?'

﾿ 'Atomic theory?'

'Lighten up, Geoffrey!'

﾿ 'Relativity?'

﾿ 'All good answers, but...'

﾿ 'The flong!'

﾿ 'Very good, Penny,' observed the professor. 'What the wheel was to transportation and other machinery, the Flong did for flight.'

﾿ 'Hey yeah!'

﾿ 'How did our ancestors ever do without the Flong?'

﾿ 'Precisely what they did do. They imitated nature. The aeroplane, for-instance, was the result of observing birds in flight, and adapting simple concepts we did have, such as the inclined plane -- all without the help of the Flong.'

﾿ 'Inclined plane?'

﾿ '-- aerodynamically, I think --'

﾿ 'So we imitated nature and learned to fly. In one way, quite ingenious, but how about before the invention of the wheel? How did we -- or could we -- imitate nature then?'

﾿ 'Er -- robot legs?'

﾿ 'But wouldn't you need wheels and levers for that?'

﾿ 'Very good point,' said the professor. 'Actually, instead of imitating nature, we used nature. We didn't make legs, but we used those of horses, camels and mules. So after the invention of the wheel, the lever, the inclined plane, etc. etc. we continued to both use and imitate nature. We achieved quite a lot, really, we began to fly, we got people going to the moon, to Mars...'

﾿ 'What part of nature did rockets imitate? The fart?'

﾿ 'Geoffrey!'

﾿ 'But wasn't that bad for the environment?'

﾿ 'Precisely. We just about destroyed ecological balance of the earth, we depleted the earth's fossil fuels just to keep our Flongless contraptions airborne; then, with nuclear power we almost...'

﾿ 'What do you mean "we"? You mean our ignorant ancestors, don't you?'

﾿ 'I say "we",' reaffirmed the professor, 'because if not for them, there wouldn't be "us" today. Remember, they passed on to us everything they had...'

﾿ '-- including the chard remains of Earth --'

﾿ '...and remember, we were as ignorant of the Flong then, as we were of the wheel much earlier in our history.'

﾿ 'Yeah, the Flong is such a simple concept, I still can't imagine people not thinking of it.'

﾿ 'Yeah...'

Part 2 -- The Discovery of the Flong

The discovery of the Flong is attributed to Billy Flong, an autistic eight-year-old who was obsessed with the drawings of M. C. Escher. The picture he was particularly fond of was the one pictured below, now known as Escher's Flong Drawing. No one is sure what the original title of the picture was, nor whether M. C. Escher, himself, was aware that this particular diagram was, in fact, the secret to flight -- or that it was even possible to reproduce in 3D.

﾿ Billy Flong, being extremely autistic, had never spoken a word in his life, although he showed signs that he was quite intelligent. One day, he was sitting quietly among a group of adults, looking at his favourite Escher drawing. One of the adults happened to say, in the course of the conversation, that it's impossible for objects to simply fly away. Just then, Billy Flong uttered his first words: 'It's easy to fly!'

﾿ 'How?' said one of the incredulous adults.

﾿ 'Just turn gravity backwards!'

﾿ 'Just how do you turn gravity backwards?'

﾿ 'With this,' he said, showing them the picture.

﾿ At that point, the adults began trying to explain to Billy that while Escher's drawings look fascinating on paper, they are quite impossible to reproduce in 3D. In characteristic fashion, he tuned them out, and went silent again.

﾿ Later the same day, Billy created a 3D model of the Flong, using Lego blocks and plasticine. True to his prediction, it flew. The Flong principle had been there all along in the diagram, hiding behind the illusion of impossibility.

﾿ Below is the original drawing by M. C. Escher which includes the Flong diagram:

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– a story to read in bed before you turn out the light –

In the town of Hamelin – yes, that Hamelin of dubious fame, where the citizens were disinclined to pay the piper – in that very town, they hold a carnival at the end of every harvest.

To this carnival, come people from miles around, enticed by the prospect of every sort of entertainment. Dispersed among the sellers of exotic merchandise and foreign viands, are jugglers, dancing bears, boxing kangaroos, mimes, clowns on unicycles, a man sawing a woman in two; there are drummers, horn-blowers, fiddlers – no pipers, for they have been banned from Hamelin – and on the very last day, a woman who is so fat, she bounces on her belly like a ball as she sings. It is said, the carnival of Hamelin isn't over until the fat lady sings.

But the greatest attraction of the carnival is the storytellers' competition. To this carnival, every year, come tellers of tales and spinners of yarns to try their luck at being recognised as The Storyteller of Hamelin. The winner is offered the chance to grace the public with his stories for the whole final week of the carnival – until the fat lady sings.

As you read this by the light of your bedside lamp, you wonder what it is that brings them.

It's the honour they seek. As for the pay... – well, just remember how they paid the piper.

One year, there came to that carnival, a man of stark appearance, whose long flowing robe shone with all the colours of the rainbow. His long hair and beard were white as the snow, but his eyes were black, like the vast universe at night. It is said, if you look into them closely, you can see the stars. This wizard of narration drew near to the carnival officials' table, and said, “I wish to spin my yarns in the hearing of your pleasant crowd.”

“Indeed,” said the president, “you came at just the right time. Tonight, you shall declaim your tale.”

Said the vice-president, “If you win, you shall grace us with your repertoire until the fat lady sings.”

Then spoke the first assistant, “And, before the fat lady has finished her song, you shall be paid most handsomely.”

To which the town clerk added, “But we ask only one thing. You must not recite any stories by a certain Robert Browning.”

To this, the wizened chronicler agreed.

That night he stood before the longing crowd...

He speaks of a child, bewitched by her wizard god-father

she enters the royal ballroom, where her enchantments entice the prince

who dances with her until midnight

whereupon she abruptly departs, leaving behind a slipper

The prince, helpless in his infatuation, searches for the one for whom the slipper is a perfect fit

The child becomes his queen, and she reigns as her god-father's spells enslave the kingdom, binding it in darkness...

As he speaks, he leans towards each listener, and each one gazes into the blackness of his eyes, drawn by the stars that they see there, hanging on to every word.

You turn the page. Your eyes are drowsy. You need your sleep. Should you finish this story tomorrow? Worry not, it is but a short story – “flash fiction”, they call it.

The president of the carnival committee arose and spoke thus, “Without a doubt, this is the one chosen to grace us with his stories each day until the fat lady sings.

The vice president said, “Before the fat lady has finished her song, he will be paid most handsomely.”

To which the first assistant added, “But, there shall be no stories by a certain poet known as Robert Browning.”

The town clerk affirmed, “Such stories, as is the playing of the pipe, are banned in our humble town of Hamelin.”

So, night after night, the wizened storyteller poured his spiel...

Tales of princesses bewitched by frogs

a girl wearing red devoured by a wolf in the guise of her grandmother

a knight who rescues a princess from a dragon

– only to be enslaved by the princess already betrothed to an evil wizard

a prince who gives the kiss of life to a princess under the spell of an evil wizard

– but, himself, falls into eternal sleep

a wolf who eats two pigs, only to be eaten by a third

an evil wizard who brings darkness to whole kingdoms

a princess and her seven dwarf companions enslaved under a wizard's spell

of naked emperors

and fishes that grant wishes...

Each night the children dream of fairy-dust, gingerbread houses and talking rabbits. Others wake up screaming – for behind many stories, lurks the same evil wizard, one who paralyses his victims with fear and eats young children.

You must keep reading, lest the evil wizard appear in your dreams. But don't worry, the end is near and the resolution will set your mind at ease – you hope...

On the final day, the Storyteller of Hamelin said to the carnival officials, “Today is the day you 'pay the piper'.”

“We wish you wouldn't use that word,” said the vice president.

“Not until the fat lady sings,” said the president.

“We're ready for your last story now,” said the first assistant.

“And again, no stories by Robert Browning,” said the town clerk.

And so, the Storyteller of Hamelin got up to tell his final story. The crowds gathered around, for though they had suffered at night with visions of princesses and the evil wizard, they craved more of the storyteller's art.

In another part of the carnival grounds, the fat lady prepared to sing. She practised by hopping off one foot onto her belly. She bounced, and rolled until she bounced off the stage. Then she rolled into a corner, and there she stayed, no breath in her to sing – she had disobeyed her doctor's orders to cease being a fat lady.

“Ah!” said the president, “a technicality.”

“Only after the fat lady sings,” said the vice president.

“And the fat lady will never sing again,” said the town clerk.

“Let's see Robert Browning top that one!” said the first assistant.

But the Storyteller of Hamelin knows. He smiles, and begins his story.

How does he know? You, the reader, are about to find out.

“It is time to pay the piper,” he begins.

This is the story of the wizard.

This wizard is vastly powerful,

So powerful, in fact, that if one were to merely tell a story about him,

His enchantments would enable him to burst forth from the story into real life...

The people gasp.

You, the reader, see it in your mind's eye: the town shrouded in darkness.

The storyteller of Hamelin looks directly at you.

And he says, not to the town's people – their faces are frozen in intense fear – but to you:

“This story, that you are reading, is that story. And the wizard? Why, that's me!”

You hear a noise downstairs in the kitchen. You'd better go down and check it.

Or, maybe you'd better not...

a Flash Fiction

By Robby Charters

the main character tries to build a time machine while the author experiments with second-person narration

So, there you are, a failure before you even start, in a lose-lose situation. How did you get yourself into this mess to begin with? Oh, that's right, the I can do it thing. All that "I am a success -- I am a success..." all that talking into the mirror -- and who was your reflection to tell you you're an idiot? Next time, listen to someone who's got sense, like me.

Okay, so they say the I can do it thing is healthy. It builds the self-esteem -- as if you needed self-esteem -- it rallies your hidden reserves. Well, okay, maybe it does. So, run in a marathon! Climb Mt. Everest! Quit smoking -- well, okay, you don't smoke -- but, build a time machine? C'mon! Nobody's going to build a freak'n time machine.

Alright, so Albert Einstein said it's possible -- according to your professor. And I suppose you're Albert Einstein? Of course you're not! So why don't you just stuff the whole thing now and -- oh, that's right, you made a commitment.

The professor said you'd not only get an "A" for the course, but he'd recommend you for the professor's chair if you do it. He wasn't counting on anyone being as stupid as you, now, was he!

So, you did all your calculations, and my goodness! A maths formula that fills the whole blackboard! And it took you a good three days just to do one maths problem! Well, this had better work.

The equations are right, you said. It's a sure thing, you said. You were so sure about yourself that you skipped a vital exam just so you could do this. And now, where has that got you? What if one figure is wrong? What if there's one needle in that haystack that won't pull its thread? You fail the course!

So, you've got it sure-fire -- or you've failed. Right now, you're as alive and dead as Schroedinger's cat!

And now you've got to see it through, or they'll call you a two-faced, unreliable schmuck. So better to go through with it and settle for being a failure, right? I told you it's a lose-lose situation. But, I guess there's no backing out now...

So Einstein, where do we start? That's right, frame dragging. A spinning black hole pulls time-space around with it, like a wooden spoon pulls at the cake batter and creates a whirlpool, and that's called frame dragging.

A black hole? The only black hole you have is in your head!

Well okay, so light also has mass, and if you can make light go around and round you'll get just a little bit of frame dragging.

Light goes in a straight line, but you can make it go around in circles by using fibre optics, or use mirrors. With fibre optics, you can make it go in a spiral. But what if you want it to be one continuous circle?

Ronald Mallet sent a message back in time using a spiral, but you want a closed loop, so you can can build up the strength of the particle beam by continuously shooting in more light so you can send an object. How do you shoot light into a fibre optic ring?

You'll use mirrors then. One of them has to be like a two-way mirror so the light can be shot in, while still reflecting it as it comes around. That's what they used for their beam splitting experiments. But with the mirrors, you don't exactly get a perfect circle. You'll get a triangle if you use three mirrors, a square with four, a pentagon with five and so on.

After all those calculations, you've decided you're going to use six mirrors, and use a 432 watt laser shooter. You've got that, and you've got a secondary spiral of fibre optics shooting a one-way 920.7 watt beam. And there's a bunch of other little gadgets, electrical pulsaters, cathodes, everything but the cat-in-the-lead-box.

It's taken you a whole week to get it right, clumsy olf that you are. The mirrors have to be angled just so. If they're off by just one micron, the light goes veering off in a spiral towards the edge of the mirrors. You try this, you try that, but light gets away quickly -- at the speed of light. Albert Jones in the supply room lets you borrow some precision tuners that you attach to the mirrors. Bless his dear heart! You spend all day tuning that. You know you've finally got it because the light just goes around in one continuous circle, getting brighter and brighter until you have to turn it off before you burn the house down. Then, the circle in the six mirrors just sort of fades away in a fraction of a second -- but just slow enough that you can actually see the fading. That looks kinda cool! If only this were just a science fair project, and not the whole freak'n course!

Okay, so you've got the contraption all up with a small table at the centre. You've even figured out a way to make sure only the object goes back in time without taking a piece of the table with it. You've adjusted it for five minutes. And what are you going to send? A Charlie Brown figurine -- a McDonald's happy meal toy for gosh sake! Now, see how you are?

And what if your calculations are off, and next week they discover a cave man stuck in a glacier, and in his tote bag is a plastic Charlie Brown?

You've got the secondary spiral of fibre optics switched on, yes? Good. It's just like you to forget things.

Speaking of which, where is Charlie Brown anyway? On the book shelf in the bedroom. You better go to get it -- no, wait! There it is on the little table! You weren't supposed to put it there yet, it might... Hey! It just arrived from the future, didn't it! Wow!

So, you go get the original from the bedroom. And look! Now there you are with two identical plastic Charlie Brown toys, one from the bedroom and one from the future!

Now, all you have to do is ... er -- hey! Don't even think about it!

Don't tell me you're going to send the ceramic angel you got from your mother instead? No way! You'll cause a paradox in the time-space continuum!

Okay, so we only have Emmet Brown's word for that -- or Stephen Spielberg's, whatever -- and time-space doesn't work like that? Are you absolutely sure? Well, you'd better be!

Alright, have it your way. But if the whole universe hangs, like a cheap computer running Windows Vista, don't come crying to me!

Well then, take the angel figurine off the little table and put its double there. Okay?

There! You run the lasers for just a few seconds, the ceramic angel -- disappears! And you're left with just one.

Well, it's a good thing that you listened to me, and didn't substitute the Charlie Brown figurine for the ceramic angel, or you would have caused a time-space paradox!

And, you've done it! I always knew you had it in you! Where would you be without my encouragement?