Flash Fiction: for writers, readers, editors, publishers, & fans



Jacque­line Doyle


So yes­ter­day, I kid you not, a guy dressed like Darth Vader walks in, black boots, black hel­met, black cape sway­ing, pulls out a gun, and robs the bank. It was lunch hour. I was there.

I’m stand­ing fourth in line with the week­end deposit from the beauty shoppe in a zip­pered bag, lucky he didn’t take that, and the lit­tle kid in front of me tugs at his mother’s shirt, say­ing “Is that Darth Vader?” His mother says, “Looks like it.” “What’s he doing here?” the kid asks, and his mom says, “That’s the mil­lion dol­lar ques­tion, isn’t it?”

I doubt it was a mil­lion, maybe a cou­ple thou­sand, prob­a­bly red from a dye pack by now. They haven’t caught him, and I’m kind of glad, you know? Not much hap­pens in Booneville, espe­cially on a Mon­day.

The guy was tall, maybe six two. I’ve been look­ing around, I mean maybe he’s some­body I know. I’d date a guy like that, a guy with real imag­i­na­tion.

Not like Scotty, who just sits around watch­ing foot­ball, drink­ing beer, maybe takes me to the Dew Drop Inn for a few beers on a Sat­ur­day, maybe Siz­zler once a year on my birth­day. It gets old, you know. I mean, okay, he’s hot–blond hair, tight ass, great abs, just a lit­tle belly from the beer. He lifts weights, and he’s pretty strong.

But where’s the future there? If we get mar­ried, it will be the same old, same old, prob­a­bly with­out the Dew Drop Inn, maybe with an added trip to Siz­zler on our anniver­sary each year. Or hell, maybe to The Captain’s Table. Just once, I’d like to get more than four­teen miles out of Booneville.

Darth Vader could take me places. I just know it.


Note: Orig­i­nally pub­lished in 2010 at Stac­cato Fic­tion.


Author’s Note

“Noon­day Rob­bery” started with an item in the news­pa­per that I read over my morn­ing cof­fee. I keep a folder of clip­pings and pho­tos, and I have other sto­ries that have started there. A failed rob­bery attempt where the perp got stuck in a chim­ney (which hap­pens more often than you’d think). A guy dressed up as the Statue of Lib­erty to adver­tise Lib­erty Tax. An Easter egg hunt that turned into a brawl. When I read that some­one had robbed a bank dressed as Darth Vader (which has hap­pened three times, in dif­fer­ent parts of the coun­try), I knew there was a story there. The scene at the bank, the hair salon employee who admired his imag­i­na­tion and audac­ity emerged in a flash when I sat down at my desk after break­fast. I turned on the com­puter and didn’t get up until the story was fin­ished. I love all kinds of flash fic­tion, maybe par­tic­u­larly flash that “takes me places.”


jacqueline doyle.jpgJacque­line Doyle’s flash has appeared in PANK, Mon­key­bi­cy­cle, Sweet: A Lit­er­ary Con­fec­tion, Vestal Review, The Rum­pus, Café Irreal, Lit­er­ary Orphans, Front Porch, Corium, and other fine online jour­nals. Her flash sequence on Freud’s Dora is forth­com­ing in Noth­ing to Declare: A Guide to the Flash Sequence (White Pine Press, 2016). She has earned two Push­cart nom­i­na­tions, a Best of the Net nom­i­na­tion, and Notable Essay cita­tions in Best Amer­i­can Essays 2013 and Best Amer­i­can Essays 2015. She lives in the San Fran­cisco Bay Area, where she teaches at Cal­i­for­nia State Uni­ver­sity, East Bay.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *