Ekphrastic Prose

Flash Fiction Inspired by Art

Our town, Benicia, California, is short on tax revenues, low-income housing, and growth projections, but we are lucky to be rich in creativity.

Boasting an expansive library, a vibrant bookstore and a stretch of our main shopping street I call ‘gallery ghetto,’ Benicia is a hub for writers and artists of every persuasion. As I wrote in the introduction to our town’s anthology, ‘Carquinez Review’ in 2020, “It’s almost impossible to walk the length of First Street without greeting someone deeply engaged in the literary life.”

Benicia’s artists and writers walk different creative paths, but we share a love for literary and artistic expression. One way we join forces is by participating in ekphrastic poetry events. Ekphrastic means “the use of detailed description of a work of visual art as a literary device.” In most cases the literary device is poetry, and I’m fine with that, but as a proser, I argue that by using flash fiction, prose can participate in ekphrastic expression just as well as poets. Here are a couple examples from my efforts, compliments of local artists .

Lind Marine by Sharon Hind-Smith

An imposing fellow stood outside the wheelhouse of the Shelley Lind, watching me as I approached the gangway, ditty bag in hand. It was my first assignment fresh out of the merchant marine academy.

“You there!” the fellow spoke with a deep gravely voice. Blue eyes flashed in the sunlight reflected off the water.

I stopped at the foot of the gangway. “Yes sir?”

“New hand or just nosy?”

“New hand, sir.” A rush of pride washed over me as I grabbed the handrail. “Sharon Kelly, able seaman reporting.”

“Come on, then.” Blue eyes twinkled. “Name’s Freighter, welcome aboard.”

The Hills by Randi McCoy

“Stop!” Becky’s cry ricocheted from one side of the trail to the other while we did a two-mile walk climbing Mount Wanda. “These damn boots don’t fit!”

I stopped, shifted my pack and grabbed my water bottle. “They’re brand new. It’ll take a while to break ’em in.”

“I don’t care. I can’t walk in these things.” Becky hopped on one foot as she pulled the boot off the other.

“Do you have an extra pair of sox?”

Becky sat on a rock and fumed. “Forget it. I’ll go the rest of the way on my bare fucking feet.”

The Big Sky by Micaela Marsden

“Learjet Niner Three Bravo clear for takeoff,” barked the airport tower.

“Roger.” Pete Canter responded. He gunned the Learjet’s engines. It was foggy, but there were clear skies above two thousand feet.

“In five minutes I’m a free man with twenty million in cash and Mike’s Learjet. Too bad about Mike.”

The fog below him now, Peter headed for a V-shaped cloud that pointed toward Caracas.

A blinking red light interrupted Peter’s jubilation. Two wires stretched from the blinking light through a hole in an overhead panel. An alarm sounded. Cabin pressure plummeted.

Peter gasped. “What the fuck?”

Pelican Soaring Over The Coast by Samantha McNally

Remember the first time we came here?

Here?

Yeah. I know. It was foggy, and cold, but I remember this place.

You mean Kelham Beach, don’t you? The one at the end of the Sky trail.

Wasn’t it here?

No. We’ve never been here before.

Well, smarty pants, do you remember the four horses?

At Kelham Beach, I do.

And when they came galloping out of the fog right in front of us – never saw us – whooping and hollering and kicking up sand and galloped off, the fog swallowing them up like nothing ever happened?

Yes. It was fabulous.

Sutro Heights, Craig Moline

Where are we? Aren’t we going to Pier 39?

We will. I wanted to take a shortcut.

Some shortcut. We’ve been walking for hours! Hey! Stop it! Get your hands off me.

Awww, c’mon, isn’t this a pretty spot? Just chill. Here. Take a hit.

No! I don’t want any pot. I want to go to Pier 39. You promised.

Ok, but let’s sit down a minute. Sit on my jacket in case of ticks.

Ticks! Are you kidding me? Jesus!

Stop worrying. Look at the pretty view, will ya? Isn’t it gorgeous?

Yeah, I guess so.

Unusual Suspects, John Tullis

Henry studied the ‘missing persons’ board. Six photos were new this morning. “What’s with the new faces?” he asked. Diane took her eyes off her monitor and shook her head. “There was somethin’ goin’ on at Frankie’s Place last night. Eyewitness says they were all there.” Henry looked closely at the pink-haired female. “She looks familiar.” “Yeah,” said Diane. “Weird, huh? Six people gone, all at the same time.” Diane’s phone rang. “Who called it in?” Henry asked. Diane held her phone. “That’s the funny part, she said. “Nobody knows. The photos were on the wall when we came in.

The Adoration

Medusa adored her friend, Nanette, a baby falcon she found huddled beneath a nest, shivering and starving. “All my brothers and sisters flew out of the nest,” Nanette said days later, after she got her strength back. That was when Medusa discovered her friend could talk. “I was so excited when it was my turn,” Nanette continued. “I yelled Geronimo! when I spread my wings and jumped. But all I did was fall, crashing to the ground.” Nanette blinked away tears that filled her piercing eyes and rolled down her beautiful, downy breast.

Medusa stroked Nanette’s soft plumage, mummering words of consolation. “You poor thing,” Medusa sighed.

Nanette flapped her wings, anxious to be on her way. “If I can talk, can you fly?” she asked. Medusa swiped at the annoying snakes that slithered around her face. In the distance, Perseus approached, sword in hand. “I wish I could,” she sighed.