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Small Violence

 

Small Violence

 

by Allison Ballard

 

 

 

Published 2016 by Allison Ballard at Shakespir

 

Text Copyright © Allison Ballard, 2016

All Rights Reserved

Cover Image Copyright © Marcelo Duarte, 2008

Author Photo by Erica Batton

 

First Shakespir Edition

 

Shakespir Edition, License Notes

 

Thank you for downloading this ebook. You are welcome to share it with your friends. This book may be reproduced, copied and distributed for non-commercial purposes, provided the book remains in its complete original form. If you enjoyed this book, please return to your favorite ebook retailer to discover other works by this author. Thank you for your support.

 

Cover License: https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/2.0/

 

 

 

Table of Contents

 

Title Page

Copyright Page

Table of Contents

 

The Fundamentals of Treating an Asthma Attack

A Spectrum Affair

Stephanie

 

About the Author

 

 

 

The Fundamentals of Treating an Asthma Attack

 

The needle punctured her arm but the pressure of the tape remained as the nurse loosened her cold hands.

“What are you taking right now?” The man in scrubs said. He leaned in with his elbows on his knees. She pulled the apparatus out of her mouth. A mist dissipated into the air from the nozzle.

“Estradiol, Spironolactone, and Prometrium,” she said, “and Ventolin for my inhaler.”

“Well, with hormone replacers like those and the symptoms you’re describing you could be looking at a blood clot in your lungs.”

Her jaw bounced as she pursed her lips—the bottom uprooted the top. She stared at the checkered floor. Caramel fingers pressed information into a laptop by a portly woman who stole glances at the patient.

“Is all of this correct?” The woman said.

“Unfortunately.”

The driver’s license read male. She laid the returned documents on her lap and noticed red in her peripheral vision.

“Uh, I was under the impression I needed that,” she said as blood funneled its way through a tube and pooled on the floor. The cold-handed nurse’s voice became stuck in her throat. She shot her hand at the tube and capped the opening.

 

 

 

A Spectrum Affair

 

Red

Red for the blood that’s staining the outside.

Red lights are spinning, but only half of the time and the Blue lights are following right behind.

Red, as in now, absorbed in the white sheet covering the body.

Red, his name will be tagged onto his big toe as he lay on the slab.

Orange

Orange, this is the car, the Barracuda that’s turned upside down in the yard.

Orange cones directed traffic away.

Yellow

Yellow, it’s tape, wrapped around the whole place with big black letters that scream crime scene.

Yellow Street, #643

Yellow, daffodils, these are trampled.

Green

Green is the color of what used to be lawn, but the grass is chewed up and muddied, and all but all gone.

Green bed sheets ruined with a man sprawled out, dead by the punctures, no doubt.

Green, Thomas, caught in the middle of love at great cost.

Blue

Blue lights flash, leaving the red ones behind.

Blue, as in sky, not a cloud in sight.

Indigo

Indigo, as in uniforms, the police have arrived.

Indigo, bruises, across her body, examined by medics that test, poke, and prod.

Violet

Violet, Leucocrystal to be exact, turned up evidence of finger and shoe prints after the violent attack.

Violet, her name is what they jot down when they ask her what happened and why it went south.

 

 

 

Stephanie

 

On a bench in front of an empty Fire Prairie Middle School Stephanie popped a Jolly Rancher into her mouth and read. She didn’t stop until the rumble of a 1967 Shelby GT-500 sat in front of her.

“Again, Dad?” she said sliding her butt onto the black seat, “What makes you late so much?”

“Hitting on the ladies. Smuggling. Smuggling ladies,” Dad said with a smile.

The Jolly Rancher clacked against Stephanie’s teeth as she moved it around in her mouth. Dad pulled the car onto the highway.

“What’re you reading?” he said.

“Lovecraft.”

Dad’s eyebrows sank, “Isn’t that a little much for a twelve-year-old?”

“Nah. Scary is watching Paulie Whitmore force James to wear the girls’ uniform or get beat. Pure humiliation in front of everyone no matter what.”

“What do you think about that?

“I think I prefer the secret hatred of other girls. Maybe James should convert.”

“Yeah? Good job looking out for your friend there, Stephie.”

The GT-500 growled into the parking lot of a convenience store. Lit Gene remained where the impression of Little General used to be on the slanted roof.

“I owe you for being late again,” Dad said, “Get whatever you want.”

Stephanie meandered through the bright aisle of candy and tugged a bag of Jolly Ranchers off the peg, then moved to back of the store and plucked a Pepsi from the cooler. Dad waited at the counter.

“Hey, Steph. How was school?” the fat cashier said.

“Don’t ask,” said Dad, “Madness.”

“Paulie made James wear the girls’ uniform. Also, Lovecraft,” Stephanie said, and plopped her goods on the counter. The duo paid. Dad put thirty down for gas.

“Really? Imma kill that kid one day,” said the cashier.

“Don’t worry, Mr. Whitmore, there’s an Elder God for that.”

 

Pulling into the driveway the car bounced on the high curb. Stephanie rasped and coughed on her Jolly Rancher, then coated Dad’s passenger seat and floor with puke.

“Come on, Stephie. What the hell?”

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to,” she said between breaths.

“Well, what do you think about that?”

“It’s mine now. I marked it.”

Stephanie jogged inside the cookie-cutter house. The garage door hummed open and squeaked at its peak. The engine silenced as Stephanie came out holding a roll of paper towels. Dad stood up, face scrunched, and waved his hand in front of his face.

With a slow, rhythmic squeal the garage door met with the driveway.

 

About the Author

 

Allison Ballard is a creative writing student at Full Sail University and is an avid supporter of the LGBT community through interviews and guest lectures on the subjects of sexual orientation and gender identity. In her spare time, she mentors young trans-women, cooks for the thrill, and can usually be found indulging in any medium that tells a story. After living in Spain, Germany and across the United States she has settled in Kansas City, Missouri with her cat, Grimlock. She can be reached at [email protected].

 


Small Violence

Small Violence takes quick looks at violence through three flash fiction stories. The first story, The Fundamentals of Treating an Asthma Attack, is a 100-word story about the mishaps of being treated medically while being trans. The second, an experimental index story looking at the consequences of an affair gone wrong using the colors of the rainbow to look at the aftermath of the event. The third, and final, story is a slice of life view of bullying, as viewed by middle schooler Stephanie.

  • Author: Allison Ballard
  • Published: 2016-07-25 04:20:08
  • Words: 1059
Small Violence Small Violence