by Michael Seese
Who couldn't use an extra hour in the day? This past weekend, I sure could have. I spent Saturday morning and half the afternoon working with the Jaycees to decorate Chagrin Falls for the holidays. Then on Sunday I spent the early afternoon with my son's Cub Scout pack raking leaves for some elderly folks in the area. And when I got home, we took care of our leaves.
Yes, we could use an extra hour.
Agent Janet Reid so wanted an extra hour that she posted the "The Extra Hour Flash Fiction contest!"
We're getting an extra hour this weekend!
Finally, tormenting writers 25 hours a day.
She soon realized her mistake.
Nonetheless, she went ahead with the contest to use
in a story. I tried to think of some esoteric combinations -- extra becoming my ex traipsing -- but in the end decided to use the words as is, since they were so wide open as to allow me to write about most anything.
The end result was "One Hour."
I prayed for an extra hour. He must have heard me.
The smell of purity hovered with me in the aether, enveloping me in peace.
She always said not to jog in the dark. But the virgin air of early morning cleanses my soul.
The car never saw me. The driver never stopped.
Her voice broke through the veil, her light piercing the fog.
I saw the path home.
My new home.
What should we do, Mrs. Nash? said the voice I’d been hearing, assuming it was God.
“Nothing,” my wife said. “He has a DNR.”
What would you do with an extra hour each day?