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Flash Fiction Friday: Morbid Beavers

by Cameron Pierce

The beavers were busy painting their dam black.

The deer had recently twisted their antlers into pentagrams. The beavers wanted to show those deer who was goth. A black dam was more sinister than pentagram antlers, at least the beavers hoped.

After a few salmon attended a Bauhaus reunion concert while away on their spawning run, all the salmon had taken to wearing plastic vampire fangs. The forest had been on a morbid kick ever since.

The beavers finished painting their dam. Black paint dripped into the river and the river turned black.

Salmon heads poked up in the white-capped current. The salmon were sputtering. They spit out their plastic vampire fangs and said, “We started this, and now we’ve had enough. Please stop trying to be goth.”

“Not goth enough to swim in a black river?” said a beaver with a sneer.

The salmon looked at each other. They always spoke as one when they spoke. “We’ve decided we like being plain old salmon best of all. Being goth salmon has its perks, but we miss the not-so-sinister things in life.”

“Like what?” asked the sneering beaver, genuinely confused that anything that was not satanic and depressing could be meaningful. The sneering beaver had forgotten all about life before the goth days.

The salmon began listing off all the fun and beautiful things in life that were neither satanic nor depressing.

The beavers slapped their tails against the ground while the salmon listed off fun and beautiful things. The beavers felt sad and wistful, remembering all the fun and beautiful things they used to do. The salmon were right. The forest had become a much colder, crueler place when everyone turned goth.

The beavers bent down at the river’s edge and began washing off the white powder on their faces, the black makeup caked around their eyes.

The salmon continued listing off all the fun and beautiful things in life. There were a lot of them, when you thought hard about it.

As the beavers busied themselves with cleaning, the deer with pentagram antlers crept amidst the trees on the other side of the river. The deer carried butcher knives and chainsaws in their hooves.

The deer leapt into the river and massacred the salmon. When all the salmon were dead, the river turned to blood.

The swift river swept the deer downstream, until they were nothing more than pentagrams in the distance, and then they were not even that.

The beavers dipped their paws into the blood and marveled the beauty of this life-giving substance. They raised their bloody paws to the sky and threw up a great big cheer for life. It was the most fun they ever had.


Cameron Pierce is the editor of Lazy Fascist Press and the author of The Pickled Apocalypse of Pancake Island, Lost in Cat Brain Land, Ass Goblins of Auschwitz, Shark Hunting in Paradise Garden, and most recently, Abortion Arcade. His fiction has appeared in The Barcelona Review, Warmed and Bound, The Bizarro Starter Kit (Purple),  and many other publications.

2 responses

  1. necaros

    I really liked this actually, short, sweet, and fun! Well done.

    July 30, 2011 at 8:31 pm

  2. that was good with even better ending ;-)

    August 2, 2011 at 11:20 am

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