Writing MoJo March Flash Fiction

I've been following a two week online course to re-discover my writing mojo. Yesterday's task was to answer 10 questions about a picture showing a figure. https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=10155042473324898&set=gm.1276880929061498&type=3
I decided to write a piece of flash fiction to answer them and I thought I'd share it on my blog. So here goes!



I'm Elise the Human Cannonball and today has been a difficult day. The sky above is clear and blue with fluffy clouds rippling across the sky like the newly stroked fur of a kitten. Warm air caresses my skin, raising the fine hairs along my arm, leaving the skin soft and fragrant.
A sweetness clings to my lips reminding me of the coffee I have just finished. Light and frothy it satisfied a need in me this morning. In the distance I can hear metallic scraping and banging as the boys erect the circus ready for tonight's show. The bolts and chains sing in the morning air, a musical accompaniment to the hard work and sweat of the workers.
The smell of gunpowder clings to me. As a Human Cannonball I am used to the smell but this morning it is more intense. It tickles my nose and my eyes water slightly at the acrid smell with its metallic, chemical aroma. It hangs around me, a harsh and constant reminder of what happened last night.
Last night I kissed Agnes the trapeze artiste and my best friend. We were slumped on the couch, tipsy and bitching about the men in our lives. The wine warmed my blood and I felt emboldened. I kissed her gently, pulled back and then she blinked and leaned in to kiss me back. But things aren't as simple as all that. You see, I was born a man. Agnes doesn't know this and I don't know how to tell her. I'm not gay, I just find it easier to live in the circus as a woman. I love the sexy costume and I can camp up a great act. The circus owners are happy and I thought my secret was safe.
Last night the lion tamer cornered me. He is suspicious pf me, follows me around and appears suddenly to catch me out. He hissed that he had found out that I was a man, he knew I had spun a web of lies to my family about my marriage and successful career as a curate. And he was going to use that information. I would have to sweat about how and when.
So I packed gunpowder under his caravan last night, lit the fuse and watched as he was blown to oblivion. He'll never tell what he knows, he'll never spill my secret. And the beautiful Human Cannonball will continue to fly.