Hunger: an encore #fridayflash #amwriting #nashostomo #flashsense


Thank you for stopping in to read my #fridayflashTo celebrate NaShoStoMo (National Short Story Month) the Friday Flash Community is hosting a senseless challengeEach Friday throughout the month of May we’ll tell a story related to one of the five senses; this Friday is taste week. 

I’m cheating a bit with this one – Hunger has been slightly rewritten so I suppose it can’t be called a true rerun but it was first published in August, 2010; it’s also nonfiction. I hope you’ll forgive the liberties I’m taking with this week’s #fridayflash and, most important, I hope you enjoy Hunger.

To celebrate the 4th anniversary of #fridayflash (which astounds me, that we’re going on four years old) there is a Blog Hop going on through the end of the month, so be sure to visit the Friday Flash Community to discover more great flash fiction by outstanding authors and join in the fun! 


Hunger, by Deanna Schrayer

Every nook and cranny sparkled and the only thing left to do was mop the ceiling. So I did. When I was certain all cob webs had been mutilated I took a shower to rid myself of the grime. It was a sweltering ninety-five degrees out, with ninety percent humidity, and I was so big I had to twist every which way just to fit inside the bathroom door. I thought the shower would coax me into taking a nap, but if anything it did the direct opposite. 

After inspecting the apartment again, (and not being able to find a thing to do), I decided to head out to the garden and pull some weeds. I knew I shouldn’t be out working in such heat, but I had to do something, and no restful activity was cutting it. I donned a pair of Capri’s and a tee-shirt, grabbed my garden gloves, the trowel, and a basket, remembering to put my floppy straw hat on as I walked out the door. 

As I stepped outside, the phrase “It’s like walking from a refrigerator into an oven” came to mind. Within seconds my face was dripping with sweat. But it felt nice. Even though I’d been miserable for the past three months, I had always welcomed a warm summer with open arms, and I wasn’t about to let my ridiculously large condition ruin that happiness now. 

I waved to Mr. Edwards across the street as I walked to our garden. He was in his garden too. (He was always in his garden; even if you’d never seen him in his garden, the bounty of his vegetables was all the proof you needed). 

I shook my flip-flops off at the edge of the pepper row and sunk my toes in the dark dirt. There’s just something about digging your feet in the earth that generates comfort like nothing I’ve ever known.

I dropped the basket and trowel and, with great effort, lowered myself to my knees in front of the first jalapeno plant. Although I’d picked every single pepper off this same plant yesterday, it was full to bursting again already. We had given so many jalapenos away people were starting to close their doors and hide when they saw us coming.

I pulled several peppers from their stalks. When I reached up to wipe the sweat from my eyes I barely remembered in time that I shouldn’t touch my face with the juice of these hot peppers on my fingers. I swiped above my lips with the back of my hand and tasted dirt. Good, solid, (spicy!) earth.

It was delicious.

All I wanted at that moment was a giant spoon. But with Mr. Edwards out and about, I didn’t want to look like a weirdo. As I picked more jalapenos, I also shoved a handful or two of dirt into my basket.

Back inside the kitchen I filled a large cup with ice water and grabbed a spoon. I placed the peppers in the sink and commenced to eating the dirt as if it would be my last meal, washing each spoonful down with a hefty drink of water.

It didn’t strike me as odd that I felt the need to eat dirt. Nothing I did lately struck me as odd. The zest the earth had gathered from the peppers was apparently just what my body needed, though I’d taken my vitamins and eaten quite well; I drank a full gallon of milk every day and ate spinach and pasta like it was going out of style. None of that tasted as good as the dirt. 

I washed the peppers and stored them in the fridge. I was still hungry for that earth, but my basket was empty and I was too embarrassed to go outside and gather more.

And I was tired, finally. I felt like I’d scrubbed ten houses instead of our tiny apartment. I lay down on the couch and was asleep in an instant, not even thinking of the dirt being transferred from my knees and feet to the furniture I’d just scrubbed spotless.

I slept as if I’d never slept in my life. Hours later a sharp pain in my abdomen awoke me. I sat up fast and tried to find my breath. It had left me completely alone. This was the heaviest pain I’d ever felt.

I wollered around on the couch, trying to find a comfortable position, still looking for my breath. I never found the comfortable position – it hid itself away better than my breath had. I ended up on my hands and knees, rocking back and forth, willing the pain to leave and my lungs to return.

My husband opened the front door and froze, one hand still on the doorknob, looking like he might want to turn around and go back to work. The sun pouring through the window shone directly on his face and I focused on his ever-widening blue, blue eyes. He said not a word.

I stared, nodded, found that elusive oxygen. “Yes, it’s time.”


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29 thoughts on “Hunger: an encore #fridayflash #amwriting #nashostomo #flashsense”

  1. I don’t remember reading this particular flash before, but its absolutely perfect, both for the prompt and for the zinger at the end. Nicely done!

  2. The line about going from a fridge to an oven tuck with me so long that when your husband “froze,” I took it literally. Loved that line. Glad everything went over okay!

    1. Ha! That is so funny John. Maybe I should do a fictionalized version with that very thing happening. 🙂

  3. I’m sat here reading under my duvet cos London is so cold for this “Summertime” bank holiday weekend. I wondered if it was a strange pang because she was pregnant and was right – an earth mother indeed! Nicely done Deanna

  4. Its just beginning for these two now 🙂 I liked how you kept us guessing I couldn’t tell what was going on till the end –and now it all makes sense with her nesting sense and odd cravings.

    1. Thanks Brinda! It’s so hard to tell, reading our own stories, if the suspense is truly there or not so it’s great to hear it is.

  5. Yup — my mom calls it the “nesting instinct”. The night the labour for one of my brothers started, she got up at 2am and rearranged the linen closet.

    I admit I’m a bit worried she wanted dirt, though. Cravings usually mean something’s lacking.

    1. Katherine, this is actually nonfiction and it was me eating the dirt. I must’ve been missing an important mineral. I’m just glad that particular craving didn’t last long. 🙂

  6. I’ve heard of the dirt craving for pregnancy, and I’ve heard it as an old wives tale that you are supposed to eat dirt–when I was pregnant, the doctors warned me to not eat dirt.

    I’m just glad there wasn’t a dead body under the garden making those jalapenos grow so bountifully. 😉

    1. I don’t know Peggy, a dead body sounds like a much more interesting story, or at least different, may have to write that one. 🙂

  7. Wonderful story Deanna. You know, I could almost feel my toes curling into the soft earth. Lovely! 🙂

    1. Thanks so much Elizabeth! Yep, curling my toes into the dirt has always been a favorite thing to do.

  8. I liked how she ate the dirt with such enthusiasm. And then, hmm, the ending made me wonder what she meant would be coming next … time for what? Good story, Deanna.

      1. Well, I wondered if those who haven’t lived through the experience would understand “it’s time”. Maybe I should expand the story just a bit to clarify.
        Thanks so much Richard!

    1. You are much too sweet Estrella, thank you so much!
      Yes, I heard about the 4th anniversary blog hop and am going to incorporate this week’s senseless challenge with the anniversary post; I’m surprised that my first draft is only 167 words – normally my longer works are better…we’ll just have to wait and see.

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