Flash Fiction: Canada Games

This is a short, semi-autobiographical flash fiction that I've had sitting on my (virtual) desk for a while.

I'm not a fan of leaving things sitting around, so after a quick tidy up I thought I'd share it.

I hope you like it - and if anyone wants any context please do get in touch.

The flights to Canada were expensive, so we’re staying at our cousin’s house.
The house isn’t so different to ours, but it has a basement. It’s where we’re sleeping, a family of five sharing with the household appliances.
I ask Dad why houses in England don’t have basements.
He says it’s because of the coal mines.
I don’t argue.
A short bike ride takes us not to a small wood with squirrels and pigeons, but to a marsh with snapping turtles and bull snakes.
Our cousins shrug and dangle their toes in the water.
I keep my feet dry.
Outside a donut shop we don’t chain the bikes up. My cousin says it’s safe because there’s always pigs there.
He buys four triple chocolate donuts but I can’t finish my first one.
They have a Super Nintendo.
We’re not allowed a Super Nintendo.
During the thirty minutes of games we’re allowed each morning, my cousin makes a little man on screen jump out and attack the monsters.
“I’m not gonna hurt ya, I’m just gonna kill ya,” becomes our catch-phrase.
Then, when we think he’s finished the game, it turns out there’s a whole new Dark World to explore.
It’s like the one we knew, only different.
I can relate.

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