#flash ficiton

[mindonfirebooks]

A 369er for Flash Fiction Month’s Mythological Evolution challenge, The Siguanaba's Curse reimagines the Salvadoran myth of La Siguanaba. Evolving from a 1527 curse against colonial horrors to a modern shapeshifter haunting Bitcoin City, she punishes disrespectful investors with her haunting justice. A continuation of my story, The Siguanaba.

[sparrownimbus2000]

He

It wasn’t the sort of day that required her to do anything, so she lazed about drinking cups of black coffee with lemon-slice shaped ice floating at the top. She picked up a book and flicked listlessly through the pages. She read a sentence about microbes and then another about tapeworm, and she frowned, shutting the book and looking at the front cover. A magnified rendered image of a virus…

[morganbc728]

The Remnant - #Fantasy #FlashFiction

They called it the Portal to Possibility, once. Forged not by hands, but by intention— a spiral of living stone and star-fire birthed from the breath of a world that remembered how to dream. The Remnant arched skyward for eons, a bridge between realms, a threshold where gods whispered and wanderers vanished, not in fear, but in wonder. But time does not bow, not even to light. And so it began to…

[artistrichardhfay]

"…writing for someone is not writing"

Wrote all 3 of my published drabbles for the editor of THE DRABBLER, for two different Drabbler contests.

Was surprised to come up with a humorous piece for the issue with the theme "SETI received a broadcast, and this is what it said…"

[it-s-blue-ink]

as stable as the edge of a knife, as sure as death, as foolish as ever (857 words)

@flashfictionfridayofficial

ID: FFF313 AFTERTHOUGHT written in white text over a purple-pink gradient. END ID.

Fandom: Malevolent (podcast) Characters: Oscar, Noel Finley, Arthur Lester, John Doe Relationships: Oscar/Noel Finley Warnings: Unreality, Psychosis, Dissociation, PTSD Other tags: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Open ending

Summary:

Click. Snap. Noel's cigarette case opened and shut rhythmically. The King thought he wouldn't get wise to his deception, but Noel knew better. He'd been in too many dreams of his to not recognize it when he was in one. --- Noel realizes it's not real.

Read on AO3 <- link to fic on AO3

or click the Read More! Likes and reblogs are loved and treasured!

---

Click.

Snap.

Is this real?

Last Wednesday Noel was certain this was real and he was free of the Dreamlands. The sun was right. Arthur and John bickered and Oscar's fingertips brushed his cheek. Last Wednesday he laughed and felt life and love and the joy of small comforts.

All the things the King in Yellow would give him in dreams before snatching it away, before pushing his face into the dirt to remind him he was a fool under his heel.

Is this real?

Noel had no way of knowing. Did he?

The question lingered in the back of his mind, always. Like a slug slowly crawling the inside of his brain it left cold slime behind to muddle his thoughts. After every hug, smile and kiss, after every fuck, every time he said or heard “I love you.”

He snapped his silver cigarette case shut and clicked it open, his eyes fixed on the wall.

Click.

Snap.

Today is… Friday. The Wednesday waitress had golden eyes just for a blink. It was a trick of the light, he told himself. But was it?

His eyes burned and he blinked one eye at a time. There’s a large, square discoloration on the wall. It looked like water damage.

Click.

Snap.

Noel hadn’t seen it before. It looked too old to be new. It couldn’t be there, but it was. It was his ticket; The King had made a mistake.

Click.

Noel wouldn’t miss the moment he fixed it. He relished the thought of catching the bastard in the act, just to prove he wasn't perfect.

Snap.

The King was patient but so was Noel. He lasted ten years of torture, a couple days of watching was nothing.

“Noel?” Oscar’s deep voice came from his left.

Noel was too heavy to startle, but he blinked. He hissed—afraid he’d missed it but the stain was still there.

“Arthur and John called me over.”

“Mh.”

“Can you look at me?”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Noel said hoarsely. His throat was so dry.

“I would. What are you doing?”

He'd been asked this before. His business partners had... pleaded?

Click.

Snap.

Click.

Snap.

“I’m gonna catch him.”

“Who?”

“The King. I noticed his trap before he could spring it and he's waiting for me to forget. I won't.” His lips spread over the flat of his teeth in a fearful grin. The punishment he’d get would be bad, but he couldn’t live in fear of what comes next. Live in the moment, and all that. Live in the glee.

“What King?" Oscar crouched before him and clasped his hand, holding his fingers still on his cigarette case. “Jesus Christ, your eyes are bloodshot. When was the last time you slept?”

“I am sleeping."

“You are?” Oscar's voice was frantic. “Have you ever heard the name Scratch?”

Gotta try harder than that to distract him.

“No."

Oscar's hand softened it's grip. Noel's thumb flicked the clasp of the cigarette case.

“When I wake up I'm going to miss you the most," Noel said, unable to focus on Oscar's expression. "I think you're my favorite lie."

“Why don’t we go have a drink of water? Or—Or sit on the couch, here? More comfortable than the chair.”

“I'm good.”

Low voices behind him. His partners. Oscar nodded.

Click.

The room plunged into darkness as the lightbulb died.

“No!” Noel shot up and knocked Oscar over, he leapt to the wall and his legs buckled under him, cigarette case flying out of his grip, white sticks scattering on the floor. "Turn on the lights!" He lost the place where the stain was, he couldn't breathe. He dug his nails into the wallpaper, willed himself to see through the dark.

"Noel," Oscar's hand fell on his back.

"You—" Fear coursed through him, he couldn't let him win. “You turn on the lights, right now, John!”

Arthur murmured.

Click.

Noel blinked at the wall. It was bare. Clean. His lungs filled and froze.

There had been a water stain there, just before. Hadn’t it? He was sure of it. That’s what he was… Was looking at.

But the wall is bare. He’d missed it.

“What was I looking at?” Noel asked shakily.

“It’s all right, Noel,” Oscar soothed.

“No, no. It’s not. I’m- I’m dreaming. Don’t let me forget.”

“Dreaming people should be in bed, yes?” Oscar pulled him to lean against him.

Noel grew so heavy. His neck craned up, eyes wide and burning. His chest hurt and black spots swam in his vision.

“I’m going to forget,” Noel wheezed in horror.

“Hush now. Close your eyes.”

“Th-the King is-”

“Far away from here,” Arthur said firmly, echoed in agreement by John.

“Oh, God,” Noel let his eyes fall shut in defeat and shame.

The wall had never had a water stain, and he knew he saw things when he was tired. He shook with slow laughter and dry sobs. Had he finally lost it? Or had the King pulled the wool over his eyes yet again?

Oscar held him, kissed his temple and cold slime coated his thoughts.

Is this real?

[gwen-tolios]

You know a little about garden fairies. No one wants to be the victim of small curses, but it's nearly impossible to know what sets a fairy off so they're often treated like wasps - you ignore them and they'll ignore you.

Still, half-dead chrysanthemums can't be a nice home.

You buy a new pot, putting it right next to the old one. The fairy investigates it from time to time, you can see them harvesting nectar, but they continue to live in the half-dead pot.

Thinking it might just like the placement of the pot, you rotate the two. The fairy stays with the now-dead chrysanthemums. It thankfully doesn't seem to have too much against the move; you don't think you've earned a curse, anyway.

In the evenings, you sit on your balcony and enjoy the sun. Sometimes you see the fairy, sitting outside the burrow it's created in sun-baked earth. You don't know where it goes during the day - they're supposed to feed on nectar but your one pot of healthy chrysanthemums can't be enough to feed it. Does it harvest from your neighbor's mini roses? The posies three floors down? You've never seen it fly from or to your balcony, but it is nothing more than a tiny, green speck the size of a thumb joint.

It sticks around as summer ends, and you start to get worried. You know it's not a pet, dependent on you for care, but you notice the flowers are dying and with it the fairy's food source. You start to leave out caps of honey water, and now, after nearly two months of you and the fairy mutually ignoring each other you have attention.

It's nerve-wracking, seeing it land on your hand while you're holding a book. Can you turn the page? Or will that upset it, leading to a stinging curse? You don't turn a page for a solid ten minutes until it flies off to its burrow.

When you step outside it flies around your head, wings buzzing in your ear.

One evening, you place the cap of honey water not on the floor near the pot, but on your small bistro table. The fairy lands next to it, slurping the water. You've never seen it drink before, and try to hide your laughter. Faires are delicate, magical creatures and you expected them to use their hands as a cup. But no, the fairy ducks its head into the cap, slurping. When it sits back on its knees, water drips from its chin. Its hair, really wisps of magic, is weighed down.

It looks at you with round, faceted eyes and sings. You tense, fairies only make a sound when casting magic. Have you finally pissed it off? Have you been cursed?

Slowly, you step back into your apartment. Your bowl of raspberries, which you'd been munching on, is once again full.

You've not been cursed, you've been blessed.

You cry, glad the fairy likes you that much. Trusts you that much.

It's just a magical wasp, you know that. It feeds on flowers. They die when the weather gets cold. You shouldn't feel so connected to what many people consider a pest.

You grab a shallow dish, fill it with more honey water. A fest for a fairy. Slowly, you carry it and your bowl of raspberries outside.

The fairy is on the table's end, legs dangling and wings flapping like a butterfly. Its gaze zooms in on the dish. You can't read its facial expression, but you think clapping hands are joy. You set both dishes on the table, and for the first time, enjoy a meal together.

------

Edit: This story is now part of a published collection! Healing Crystals & Other Breakables. 💚

You find a fairy living in your “garden”: a half-dead pot of chrysanthemums on your 7th floor balcony.

[nobbinblog]

Friday Fictioneers: When Pigs Sell Seashells On The Seashore

Friday Fictioneers is hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields who provides us with a photo prompt. Each week’s challenge is to write a 100-word story inspired by the photo. Click here to play along or just read more stories. PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields When Pigs Sell Seashells On The Seashore Dr. Wilhelm Von Schmecklestein created Icarus to end the adynaton “When pigs fly.” Icarus escaped…

[acroynon]

The Heist

They were all hunched over looking intently at the laid-out map. This was the most important mission, they couldn’t afford anything to go wrong. 

“Alright, let’s go over the plan one more time,” Tommy said. He’d brought this team together. It was his plan they were following. They’d all follow him to the end of the earth if they had to. “Oliver, you’re the lookout. You stay on the roadside and let us know if you see any movement. And I mean any movement.” Oliver simply grunted and nodded. He was a big guy but didn’t have much going on upstairs. That’s why he was always the lookout. “Marco, you’re the distraction. We need something big that’ll distract the target for at least 15 minutes.” 

“Yep, I’ve got the perfect idea.” He replied. Smirking as he patted the briefcase he was holding.

 “Angela will then use her master safe cracking skills to get us inside.” Angela twirled her tools around her fingers in agreement. “Bobby, then it’s up to you to disable any alarms or trip wires we might encounter”. Bobby had years of training in the field. He could tear apart any electronic device and put it back together without leaving a trace. He simply nodded. “I’ve managed to get the location of the device from my network of spies. I’ll retrieve it. Then it’s up to Lucy to get us out.” Tommy and Lucy’s eyes met, they’d know each other the longest out of anyone around this table. 

“We take the air vents to the adjoining room. There is a window leading to a fire escape. A quick hop down and I’ll be waiting to drive us all the hell out of here.” She said. The confidence in her voice washed over the entire team. They were going to do this.

“Alright team. Let’s go get my Gameboy back from my sister!” Tommy shouted as all the kids scrambled down the treehouse and ran towards the house.

[cherrybombfangirlwrites]

The City is Ours Masterlist

WIP Intro

Snippets

Screwdrivers and Cybernetic Green, Character Exploration with Chase

Fool Me Once, Fool Me Twice, Plot and Character Dynamic Exploration with Kylee and Nickelle, Flash Fiction Friday Prompt

Among Any Option, Early Team Dynamic Exploration, Flash Fiction Friday prompt

Needles and Guns, Character and Plot Exploration with Bryson, Flash Ficiton Friday Prompt

Asher and Damian Hurt Comfort Snippet (coming soon)

Character Intros (Coming soon)

Worldbuilding (Coming soon, go check out the wip tag for now)

Taglist: @friendlyneighborhood-writer @jessica-writes22 @rose-bookblood @yejidoesthings @space-writes @cljordan-imperium (send me a message to be +/- from the taglist <3)

[unissonmag]

FLASH: 21ST CENTURY FICTION – THE AMAZONS

Pour leur nouvel album, 21st Century Ficiton, The Amazons explore certains genres fictifs et musicaux tout en gardant leur identité intacte. Review. Continue reading FLASH: 21ST CENTURY FICTION – THE AMAZONS

[hatchingphoenix]

The Musketeer

Everyday Drabbles #764

The duke’s men had entered the palace. We fought them hand-to-hand with flashing blades and single-shot pistols, our organized lines dissolving into a chaotic melee through the corridors and ballrooms. I had no love for the king, but the duke was no more palatable. I'd sworn oaths, and I would uphold them. But as the day wore on, I watched good men die. I killed good men. For what? The vanity of a throne? A title? Their bodies lay among the smashed marbles and torn tapestries, and I swore a new oath. Whoever won would have to deal with me.

[artist: Craig Mullins - https://www.instagram.com/craigmullinsofficial/]

[exploresmallworlds]

Alarm Clock

The alarm clock was not on, but that wasn’t the focus of the investigation. There was a strange smell coming from the inside of the motel room, which had been studiously ignored by the woman who ran the night desk. She was finishing an assignment, meanwhile the smell wasn’t strange all things considered. The reality was when the manager came in there was more movement about the strange smell…

[morganbc728]

Endurance - #SciFi #Fantasy #FlashFiction

Once a year, on the ice planet Iglacys, the sunrise painted the frozen landscape in hues of indigo, lavender and the sweet warming shades of gold. It was a fleeting moment of warmth in the endless winter. For centuries, the inhabitants of Iglacys gathered in quiet reverence as the first rays pierced the icy horizon, casting long shadows across crystalline plains.   Children whispered tales of…

[oneinist]

Rating: Explicit (This is the overall rating but varies from chapter to chapter) Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: M/M Relationship: Hatake Kakashi/Umino Iruka Please see Ao3 for tags

Summary: Drabble for the prompt “Mud wall”

Words: 121

Comment: Inappropriate use of jutsu is my KakaIru headcanon 🍆🐬 

Mud wall

Kakashi was smiling widely. In front of him, a pert butt was sticking out of a mud wall. Iruka had protested vehemently when Kakashi had proposed the chuunin with the idea of trapping him in a wall, but he had begged and Iruka had given in. 

Iruka was shifting nervously, his ass wiggling slightly, and Kakashi’s smirk only growing wider. They were going to have so much fun. Iruka could feel the flare of chakra and hear a familiar poof of in all probability a shadow clone being created. He could hear its footsteps drawing closer, showing up around the corner of the damned wall. 

“Yo!” it leered, “I’ll be observing,” it stated matter-of-factly. Iruka shot a stabbing glare at the clone.

[annemareads97]

I wrote a thing! And it got published!

[hannah-deactivated20220725]

Vampire Idol: Liz’s Break up

WC: 967

Characters: Nane & Elizabeth

WIP: It’s about the MCs of Vampire Idol, though it isn’t like an official part of the story (consider it fanfiction from the original writer xD)

Situation: Elizabeth’s latest boyfriend breaks up with her over Nane, as so many have before him... how does she and how does Nane respond to the situation?

Author’s Notes: I really hope you guys like this! I had so much fun writing it. As one of my friends has recently said, I ship the FUCK out of these two. Makes me so sad that Nane is aro/ace. ): but doesn’t mean we can’t have sweet/cutesy platonic moments like this right? ;) platonic love matters too!

Vampire Idol Taglist (ask to be added or removed):

@wyldlynxx @mrs-raven-writes @magic-is-something-we-create @dczwrites @bathingindirtyteacups

General Writing Taglist (ask to be added or removed):

@sunlight-and-starskies @adaparkwrites @leafgreen6

I stare blankly at the latest man telling me that I’m “too attached” to my best friend and it’s “unnerving” that I “act more couply with him than I do with my own boyfriend.” Yet another. This is perhaps the 10th guy in the last 4 years that has made this same excuse. You’d think I’m the Taylor Swift of vampires, except that my relationships are all secret so I’m obviously not using them to build my fame.

I sigh heavily, rubbing my face.

“You really feel that way? There’s nothing I can say if you truly feel that way. I’m not begging you to stay.” He stares at me, face flushed. Since vampires’ blood doesn’t flow the same way that humans’ do, it is rare that you see a vampire’s face truly flush the way his is, so it’s more than clear how unhappy he is with my response.

“You won’t even fight for me?” He asks flatly, eyes narrowing slightly.

“Do I seem the type?” I ask simply, crossing my arms. He opens his mouth to retort but then closes it and walks away toward the door. When he reaches it, he stops, resting his hand on the knob, and turns toward me.

“You would fight if it was him.” I feel my face heating up in a blush, one of the very few times that a vampire will feel warm to the touch. And one of the only times, unless they are wearing makeup, that there will be color on their cheeks (or if they’re from a place with darker skin, since, unlike what media tries to say, becoming a vampire only pales your skin a little bit, not completely). I fight to find the right response to his words. No, I’m not in love with him... but I really felt like this was going somewhere... not right to the place where all of my past relationships have gone. But here we are, having the same discussion that I’ve had with every one of my other exes.

He watches my face closely for only a moment before turning and finishing his trail out the door. I simply stand still, watching his retreating back.

--

I find myself lying on my back, stomach gurgling. I haven’t fed in a week. We’re supposed to be hosting The Show, but my heart just isn’t in it. Am I doomed to live my life alone? I know that I have a reputation to maintain. I have a public persona to maintain and if people see me avoiding Nane, they will think we’re in a fight, which will either destroy or make our relationship career.

I hear a loud, firm knock at my door and without warning, Nane’s voice.

“Liz? Are you in there?” I’m silent. I’m not ready to fake a relationship. I can’t do this right now. My relationship with my best friend is what is causing me to remain single all this time. I want to be with someone. I don’t want to be single, in a fake relationship my whole goddamn life.

The knocking ensues and eventually, I find myself sitting up.

“Nane, leave,” I say simply, forgetting that he has his own key to my place (to keep up appearances and because we are just that good of friends). I don’t forget for long, as  he is soon in my place, finding his way to the room where I’m staring blankly at a black television screen. He frowns and sits next to me.

“Are you okay?” He asks quietly. I tense but offer no response to his concern. I don’t want to admit that I want to fall in love. The only time that I confess this feeling is when I get so intoxicated that I actually consider quitting the public scene in order to seek a true, meaningful relationship. For as long as Nane and I are as close as we are, I will never find the love that I want.

He frowns as if he’s reading my mind and offers to wrap an arm around me, but I scoot away.

“Don’t,” I say simply, tensely. He frowns but remains still, respecting my wishes. I slowly glance up at him.

“Why,” I say quickly. He frowns. We’ve had this discussion a time or two. And by that, I mean every time this situation happens. He lets out a little sigh.

“C’mon, Liz. Try to relax and we’ll have some ice cream and popcorn like you like it. And watch sappy love movies.” My eyes start to water as I laugh emotionally.

“Can you imagine what would happen if all of our fans saw me being like this over another man?” I ask, shaking my head. He pulls my face up to look into his eyes with his index finger, gazing deep into mine.

“Who cares?” I feel my heart leaping from my chest, even though I haven’t ever actually felt what it was like to have a beating heart. He studies my eyes closely. “Put the movie on. I’ll make the food.” He kisses my cheek, making my stomach feel like butterflies but I simply mutely nod and then turn on the television set to turn on the movie we watch traditionally when I go through exactly this situation.

Soon, he comes into the room with a bowl of popcorn and a carton of ice cream and a spoon to share. When I get like this, we cuddle and watch the same movie every time. It’s like our little tradition when my heart is broken.

And you know what the best part is?

No one knows about it, so I know this is all him just genuinely caring about me and the fact that I have a heart, even if it functionally doesn’t work.