It’s Sarah Faxon’s Flash Fiction Friday, and this time I’m actually writing it on a Friday. 😅

Here are the prompts this time around:

PROMPT 1: Starbucks is opened… or closed.

OR

PROMPT 2: The rain has turned to fire.

I decided to combine them both this time around, and the results were hilarious.

Here it goes:

Raining Brew

By Gabriel Peña

I need to have it. I can’t function. I can’t live without it.

It’s been only a few hours since the world started to rain literal fire. To me, however, it feels like an eternity without it.

  I can’t wait for the “rain” to stop pouring. I need it now!

            Of course, when I opened the door, my umbrella disintegrated before me. From my apartment door, I stare at the blazing fire falling like a waterfall. Looking at it more closely, it’s curious that every building hasn’t burned to the ground.

No! Focus! That’s something a scientist needs to figure out. Me? That’s not my job, and I’m no closer to getting what I want than before.

Wait, I got it! Oven doors are meant to take extreme heat. I can use that as an umbrella!

            I run to my kitchen. When I opened the door, I kicked it. The sturdiness of the door kicked back. Damn these scrawny legs!  I climbed on the open oven door and jumped on it a few times. After what felt like forever, the door snapped. Finally!

            I face the interior of the door to the rain of fire, gripping the handle firmly. Between the heat haze and the bright fiery orange, it was difficult to see where I was going. The heat around me is melting my skin. Agony forces me to scream. But I can’t give up. I’m only a block away from what I truly desire.

            Finally, I made it. The sign is melted, but I recognize the very essence of the building. The burning handle that will let me into the building made me flinch back. I can’t let that handle stop me. Not when I’m so close. I firmly grip it, tears falling from my face. With one loud shriek, I yank it open.

            Once inside, I drop the oven door, catching my breath. I am here!

            The people behind the counter were panicking, gazing dumbstruck at the dripping fire outside. One of them saw me.

            “What the hell are you doing here? Can’t you see the word is burning!”

            I rub my hands as if they would cool the burnt skin.

            “Can I get an Iced White Chocolate Mocha, please? Oh, and make it a Tall. I’m supposed to be dieting.”    

© Gabriel Peña