#flash fiction online

[rldraws]

Flash Fiction: The Car

His wife died in that car. His neighbors ask why he keeps it in his overgrown yard, among the weeds, as the tires rot and the blood-stained seats grow more and more mottled with each passing year. How can he tell them that she forces him to keep it? How can he tell them that he’s supposed to die there, too? ——– Do you like short fiction? How about a whole dang book of it? My newest release…

[authortoberecognized]

                    WRITER’S FORUM  FLASH FICTION

                        WEBSITES HELPFUL TO WRITERS This is a series of posts which, I think, will be beneficial to writers. But first, I would like to include my usual warning about using websites. Whenever you check a website you are, in my opinion and I talk from experience, being put on a list for sale. So, expect the possibility of being bombarded by ads from companies you, perhaps, have…

[adriabailton]

Home Isn’t

by Kelly Sandoval

via Flash Fiction Online

[gothamite-rambler]

Kids always know how to piss off their older sibling

inspired got this from a video online

Jason (13): Hey, how old are you again?

Dick (19) (playful): I—Wait, guess.

Jason (incorrectly guessing): Hm… 30?

Dick (shocked): WHAT?! THIRTY?!

Bruce covered his mouth, chuckling dryly.

Bruce: Yes, yes, you're right, Jason. He’s thirty.

Dick (enraged): I am not! Thirty?!

Jason (alarmed but laughing): Why are you yelling at me?

Dick (hurt emotionally): That’s so far off!

Jason (apologetic): Sorry, you just look… old.

Dick (wounded verbally): OLD?!

Bruce laughed harder, covering his eyes and shaking his head. Jason joined in as Dick's face turned red.

Dick (angry): Bruce, did you put him up to this?!

Bruce (amused): Nope, that was all him. He guessed the same age for me!

Dick (squeaky voice): You think we’re the same age?!

Jason (messing with him now): Are you older?

Dick: I'm 19! How does that even make sense? I was HIS Robin!

Jason (sheepishly): I'm 13! You look the same to me! You must have one of those… old souls.

Jason and Bruce burst out laughing enjoying the moment and Dick's embarrassed.

Bruce: This is the best day ever.

Jason (innocently): Are you sure you’re not at least 27?

Dick (red-faced, loud, shrill): I will not be insulted by a teenager! I'm leaving!

Jason (waving goodbye): Sorry!

Dick stormed off, grumbling.

Jason (to Bruce): I said he looked 30, not exactly like the Crypt Keeper!

Bruce: I know, Jason. He’s sensitive about that. You’re not wrong, but me?

Jason: Honestly, yeah—30. I’m sticking with that.

Bruce handed Jason a 50-dollar bill.

Bruce: You’re a good kid.

Jason: And you give me money when I’m nice, so that helps!

[whereserpentswalk]

Seduction by the Unseelie Faeries

Enter not this world, for these are goblin lands, these are demon lands, where evil spirits stalk such mortal souls. Grey lands of algorithms and mocking spirits, cold and dark places not built for or by human hands, quite lands forever loud, that make you watch forever for things you do not want to see.

Hey! Girl! What’s a pretty thing like you doing with your AdBlock on? =)

[Turn off AdBlock] or [Exit Website]

Hey! Girl! I wouldn’t want someone as lovely as you seeing that type of content. =)

[Ok] or [Try another search]

Strange demons walk these walls, and crying evil spirits call. One eyed Camera people stare, and trap the world in unseeming glare.

To watch you eat, to watch you sleep, to watch the blood beneath your skin. They watch the world with great black eyes, until you’ll always see them there, until you’ll never feel unseen.

Hey! Girl! What are you doing in a place like this, you should come back to my app. =)

[Go to app] or [Download]                                 

Hey! Girl! You wouldn’t mind signing in for a guy like me. =)

[Sign in] or [I don’t have an account]

The great march of imps proceeds, laughing mouths and crying eyes concede. Plastic bodies built not to offend, to show their great selling signs to unwanted eyes.

To jump before your eyes, to scream your ears, to make all unwanted mischief seen. Sing the world their mindless hymns, with smiling jaws and laughing eyes, until your finally worn down, until they finally win.

Hey! Girl! You wouldn’t mind giving me your number. =)

[Sync Contacts]

Hey! Girl! Look at this ad!

Dark eyes loom over a landscape of minimalist UI. The king of wicked things comes to see his lifestruck kingdom raw. Lord of censor and content filter, lord of poison lawn and dead mall, lord of endless content and hungry eyes, lord of evil spirit and wandering demon, lord of advertisement and spyware.

His face is plastic, his eyes are touchscreen, his veins are coper wires. New humans are always in his fell realm, the wild hunt not tried.

[corinne-eaglebridge-sso]

Flowers curling from your lungs

@flashfictionfridayofficial

Word count: 242

Warning: spoilers for the Saving Anne quests.

Read on AO3

The graveyard at Doyle’s Abbey had, admittedly, never been dull in colour. The wardens kept the candles eternally lit, and many visitors left offerings for the dead. Some of its inhabitants had asked for trees to be planted on their graves, and they bloomed after a harsh winter, only to bear fruits of the dead later in the seasons.

So no, it was not uncommon for flowers and blossoms to show up in the graveyard, with its tradition of not covering the graves with any rock outside the headstone.

It was, however, unusual for a grave to bloom so quickly. Most took at least a few years, unless relatives made sure to plant bulbs, but the grave of one Elizabeth Sunbeam had exploded in flowers of all colours almost as soon as the first whispers of spring appeared.

The snowbells were first, of course, as snowbells often are. Soon, other flowers had also grown in an unnaturally fast fashion that the wardens had decided not to acknowledge. Daisies, daffodils, sunflowers…

The strangest, perhaps, was how seemingly overnight the headstone had been overtaken by tangling vines and roses. Roses, like those the mourners had placed on her grave earlier that year.

The many flowers attracted more butterflies to the graveyard, and visitors started to marvel at them soon after. They flew far and wide, but always returned to the grave eventually.

Elizabeth may have died that winter. But in the spring, she bloomed.

[essektheylyss]

I AM aware that I've failed to post a spec fic short the past three days but I am here to announce that I finally finished Parable of the Sower and I am demanding that everyone who hasn't read it but would've been inclined to read a short story instead go find it from the library or bookstore and read it asap.

[adreamingskin]

Poetry Competitions, Submissions & Opportunities – MARCH 2024

Spring is here and with it (finally) over 150 poetry competitions, writing submissions and opportunities open or with deadlines in March 2024.​For the first half of this month I was in autistic shutdown due to a very difficult personal situation that is coming to a head this week after 16 years. I am hopeful that this release will remove significant stress from my life and allow me to give time,…

[francescaswords]

A Measure of Time | A Bezzina’s Emporium of Magical Artefacts and Antiquities Short Story by Francesca Astraea

You absolutely do not need to have started reading or have read Rotting Trees to enjoy this. You don’t have to have read any Bezzina’s stories at all. It is quite short, because I wrote it for a zine submission but decided not to edit it after the zine said no. Enjoy!   On a New Year’s Day so damp he could have been walking through a wet flannel, Ernest Bezzina opened his magical antiques shop.…

[kachapa]

INSPIRATION LOVE STORY

This story is going to improve your mind set the best love story 👇https://youtu.be/YwYQdqInPls?si=mVvqXjBa315os7Km

[rldraws]

A Tasty Menu of Flash Fiction Part 3

Here we are at Part 3! And we even survived, always a plus. Flash Fiction: Fitzcarraldo Flash Fiction: Wasp Flash Fiction: Floating

[foxmulderautism]

writing inspo when the point of inspo is so intricately specific is weird because its like you want to write something like that but also Not like that because then that would just be writing That story. like los angeles by ling ma is so inspirational to me but "i live with my 100 ex boyfriends" is such a not universal experience so i just have this abstract inspo that's like i want to write something with the same energy as living with 100 ex boyfriends but also not the same energy because the energy of living with 100 ex boyfriends would just be a story about living with 100 ex boyfriends. take a shot every time i said

[axos-abyss]

Hang Out (700ish words)

It’s been five minutes since I knocked to get my friends to let me in. I arrived ten minutes late, which was around fifteen minutes early with these guys. I considered opening a can of soda to pass the time. Right before I opened the container to dig out a can, I heard the door creek open.

With his usual smile, Roy opened the door and let me in. I pushed past him before he got to greet me because I never put down the sodas. I rushed to the kitchen and slammed them on the nearest counter. I heard a quick chuckle behind me as he said “Seems like somebody is in a hurry to watch their fantasy team score no points.”

I really did not give a rats' ass about the fantasy league they ran. It was only in our friend group, no money was wagered, and the scoring was a bastardized version of official scoring systems. Plus, I was more of a soccer guy myself anyway. Whenever it came around to drafting up a team, I just picked what I had to and kept moving on. The league didn’t matter to anyone really, it was just an excuse to hang out whenever we could.

Looking out from the kitchen, I saw that Shawn and Clint had already made themselves comfortable on the couch. They made sure to sit as far away from each other as possible, to minimize awkward contact, and to maximize the amount of time each of them had if the other decided they deserved to be hit. I decided to grab myself a bowl of assorted Chinese food and join them in my usual spot in the corner of the couch.

“Dude, Alex, what the fuck? Not even a hey or a howdy doo?” Roy jested as he walked over to the whiteboard we had set up, trying to be sneaky as he removed a couple of points from Shawn’s team. 

The other two were occupied with the touchdown that just happened, so I had a few seconds to think of a response. Instead of anything witty, I simply admitted, “I was never told to, and when did you ever care about a proper greeting?” 

“Alex, saying hi is not a proper greeting, it’s basic human procedure you machine.” Shawn said, butting in. He had the usual straight face to try and fool me that he was being serious, forgetting to watch his tone. It only lasted a few seconds, because Shawn could not hold that face for more than a few seconds before bursting out laughing.

Right then, everything felt more real than it usually does. The plunge into self awareness always left me a little shocked, but I have gotten used to it over time. I quickly look to my right, and follow the strings that are attached to me. My head always follows them from where they end in my neck, to the hands they come from. I move my head slightly up, and stare myself in the face. 

He is sitting over by the table we usually have our post-game chats at, slightly hunched over. I can see the whiteboard that is supposed to be next to Roy hung up on the wall, with a season's worth of information written on it. I stare at him for a few seconds, waiting for him to check over his shoulders, to notice his strings that led to the doorway. My greatest fears come true, as he never does. My eyes tear up a little bit. 

“Alex buddy, you get burned so bad you lose all your brain cells or something?” asks Clint, as I am snapped back to reality. The exit of those moments is always physically easier, but never mentally.

I simply turn to him and my mouth apologizes, saying that I thought I spotted a fly. I crack a quick joke and say to get back to the game, because I just want to move on and not stay on the subject. I notice out loud that my quarterback, whatever his name is, just made an amazing play. Everyone else nods and makes a couple more remarks as they turn their heads to enjoy the game.

[gothamite-rambler]

Jason may have a point here

Jason: Kill him.

Batman: No.

Jason (insistent): Kill him.

Batman: No.

Jason (angry): Kill him!

Batman (loud): No!

Joker: Can I kill myself to escape this nightmare of awkward father-son tension?

Jason and Batman: Shut up!

Jason: Ignore me, like you did when I died. What about the countless lives he’s taken? What about Barb? What about the hell he’s put all of us through for some sick joke? If you didn’t want to do it for those reasons, what about me? I wanted to ignore this, but he took me away from you! Why not vindicate me? I thought I was your son!

Joker: Guess you weren’t that close.

Jason smacked the Joker with the crowbar for the fifth time.

Jason: Shut. The. Fuck. Up! Back to you, B—Batman. When I saw the bomb tick down, I accepted it. I accepted my death with the assumption that when I died, you’d kill him. Then I wake up, and this monster is still alive. Why?

Batman: I’ve contemplated torturing the Joker in private. Making him feel pain from every nerve in his body, savoring the light leaving his eyes when I finally kill him. But I don’t want to go to that dark place… because that won’t fix crime. If I kill the Joker, I would be crossing a line I can’t come back from.

Jason (in disbelief): Stop joking.

Batman: I’m not.

Jason (tapping the gun on his leg): You have to be.

Batman (deadpan): When have I ever joked with you in this suit?

Jason: It’s not too late, because you can’t be serious. It literally would fix one thing… HIM! Because he’d be dead!

Joker: Can you tell me what type of torture methods you’d perform on me? I might need to use those later.

Jason pointed his gun at the Joker, showcasing how the crazy clown is only proving his point.

Batman: If I kill him, I would never return to who I was—the person I became to fight crime. I would kill the next one like him.

Jason: Then fucking do that! You can't be arrested. You’re friends with Commissioner Gordon, who, by the way, the Joker shot his fucking daughter. You shot his daughter, right?

Joker: Yeah.

Jason: Okay, so should I shoot him, or do you want to go first?

Batman: The Joker would have to do something insanely unforgivable to make me kill him.

Jason stays silent for fifteen seconds, unsure of how to respond.

Jason: …He blackmailed my mom into handing me over and tortured me horribly and then I died in a bomb explosion. Not from the bomb either, from being suffocated under rubble. Just so you know, I was legally dead for five years because of him.

Batman: That’s different.

Jason (twitching eye): Different how?

Batman: You're here now.

Jason looked around, incredulous.

Jason: Am I on a hidden camera show? Because that’s not a defense. Are you seriously trying to excuse what he did just because I’m back now?!

Batman: Um... It’s not right!

Jason: Why? Go ahead, tell me—why is it wrong for me to kill him and for me to kill irredeemable criminals? I'll wait. I have the detonator.

Batman: Because when my parents died—

Jason: Nope, nope, nope! My mom sold me out to the Joker. My dad beat me; my step-mom beat me! You’ve got to come up with something else!

Joker: …He has a point.

Batman (clenched fist): Okay, after saving lives without killing criminals, I learned that all life is valuable.

Jason (without hesitation): Joseph Stalin.

Batman: Okay, that was a war leader—

Jason: Charles Manson.

Batman: Hold on, he was a cult lea—

Jason: Jim Jones.

Batman: They volunteered in both situations.

Jason (calmly): Adolf Hitler. The Nazi soldiers who knowingly participated in the extermination of Jews and those who escaped to Brazil.

Silence.

Joker (weakly speaking): I’m… the one possibly dying, but he brought up a couple of good examples. Like I’d kill me after that.

Batman (stammering): No, wait, because that's not the same. The Joker is not the same as them.

Joker: Thanks, Batsy. I try to be different.

Jason (trying to breathe calmly): Okay, I’ll cancel out the world dictators, the cult leaders. I’ll do that for you… Jeffrey Dahmer, Ted Bundy, John Wayne Gacy, Wade Wilson... I can go all day; I love learning about true crime and wars. He’s not exactly like them either, but he’s pretty damn close.

Batman: …

Jason (irate): And again… him torturing and killing your adopted son isn’t the line? Am I near the line?!

Batman: I told you not to fall for your mother's tricks.

Jason (shocked): Oh… my God! Are you resorting to gaslighting? Are you really gaslighting me while I have a bomb? We’re doing that?!

Joker (not taking any of this seriously): I wouldn't stand for that, neither would Barbara.

Jason hit the man in the arm with the crowbar to silence him.

Batman (doubling down): All I’m saying is that when you came back, you started killing left and right.

Jason: Yes, rapists to my right and murderers to my left. It’s not like I kill shoplifters.

Batman (scoffing): Hypocrite.

Jason: A shoplifter might have a reason to steal and doesn’t resort to kill people.What rapists have you met that had a reason? Because rapists aren’t redeemable; they’re fair game. Same with, let’s see, child traffickers, pedophiles, serial killers, assassins—literally awful, evil people! That’s target practice.

Jason aimed the gun at the Joker as he spoke to emphasize his point.

Batman (indignant): Okay, last I checked, murder is wrong!

Jason (pointing his gun at the Joker): It sure is!

Batman: A criminal is a criminal. I treat them all the same.

Jason (laughing because he had this one ready): Let’s talk about Selina Kyle.

Batman (nervous): Let’s not do that.

Jason: No, no, she gets a pass when she’s attacked people to escape prison. If a criminal is a criminal, then why isn’t she in prison? Because she meows at you? Because of your odd sexual tension with her—I’ve read your journals. And I don't judge man, that's your love life, but I want to know why she gets a pass. Why does Black Mask walk? Why does Mr. Freeze walk? The Joker gets to walk… why is that? Tick-tock, detective.

Batman: …If you give me five minutes, I will think of an answer.

Jason (cocky): It bothers you, doesn’t it? That I’m doing a better job at being you? That I'm taking on businesses in this crime-ridden area because I can admit that crime will never stop? Is it that I kill murderers and rapists, and that hurts your feelings?

Batman: It doesn't bother me… I just don't want you to do this.

Jason (serious): Let me dial back the snark. I'm not asking you to kill Selina or Riddler or Mr. Freeze. I want you to kill the Joker. The man who's been alive and committing crimes since I died. I'm not even mad at you for not stopping my death. Honestly, I forgive you for that. But for the love of God, kill him! Kill him, and I’ll take the blame. That’s all I ask. I am begging you! Do you see this? I am begging you!

Batman sighed with regret knowing he couldn't turn on his morals again. It would only lead to worse happening to him and his family and that included Jason.

Batman (final decision): I can't. I won't. I'm sorry.

Jason: I—Wow, you’re actually going to make me do this. Okay, I kill the Joker or… you kill me.

Jason tossed Batman an extra gun, which the man catches with ease.

Jason: Or you can shoot him.

Batman (somber tone): I regret the day I let you into my life… Not because of any faults you made, but my own. I gave you a good life, with the life of a hero in the mix. Now that you’re alive again and there’s nothing I can do to stop you… I won’t kill him or you. Again… I’m sorry.

That was all he could say. The decisions he made in the past, when Jason died, were secrets he wanted to keep buried, even if it meant Jason would never learn the truth and would continue to harbor resentment toward him.

Jason: Heh… You regret taking me in because of the hero life you gave me—not because I died or because my murderer is still free. Cool. I suppose you’ll just stand by and watch me take him out.

With a dry chuckle, Jason spun the gun in his hand, poised to pull the trigger. Batman reached into his utility belt for a weapon.

Jason (with feigned sweetness): This is fantastic! I always wanted a moment like this with you!

Jason grabbed the Joker and aimed the gun at the cackling psycho's head.

Jason: I’m going to enjoy this!

Batman: DODGE!

Jason: What?

Batman hurled a Batarang at Jason, striking him in the neck and impaling him. In shock, Jason dropped the gun and the Joker, blood spurting from the wound.

Joker (amused): This is fun! What a twist! I didn't think you would hurt your own son!

Jason (shocked and angry): You threw a Batarang… at ME?!

Batman (regrettably): Oh shit, shit, shit! You were supposed to dodge!

Jason (betrayed): You pulled a Piccolo on me!?

Batman: I thought you would dodge! I shouted “dodge!”

Jason: You thought I would read your damn mind, toss Joker aside, dodge, and then not shoot him?!

Batman maintained a stoic expression, but inside, his mind was screaming in embarrassment.

Jason and Joker: Oh my God, you actually did. GREAT! I’m agreeing with him!

Jason yanked the Batarang out of his neck, chuckling dryly as he trembled.

Jason: This doesn’t even hurt me, crazy right? I—You threw this at me to save him… You know, maybe in a few years we can laugh about this, but not here, not today. I’m sorry too… but I’ll see you again.

Jason pressed the detonator, successfully escaping alongside Batman. The Joker was buried beneath the collapsing debris of the buildings, but somehow still alive.

[whereserpentswalk]

Unseelie Court

There are evil spirits that live inside of internet ads. They're horrible little things. Small and weak by the standards of demons, even by the standards of most humans, but they're sadistic, and they're many in number. They have empty plastic eyes, and white square teeth that can chop flesh like knives. Sometimes they'll just take a nip out of your soul, sometimes they'll haunt someone so much they can get them to do whatever they want. They'll yell in your ears when they can, yell in your soul, they want to make you feel no joy nor sorrow, they want you to just feel something blank, something empty and obedient. When there aren't many of them they're too weak to even notice, its why their offline counterparts have so little power, but when they're everywhere they can overcome far stronger souls.

The spyware has evil spirits too, their cousins who are spirits of security cameras are much the same. Voyeuristic demons, with single black cyclops eyes that never blink and never cry, and sinister smiles, their bodies long and spindley and hunched on rooftops. They love to look, look at private things, look at secret things. They love when they can spy a love letter, better yet a picture of someone naked, the most personal things taste the beast to their dark eyes. They love to watch humans, especially when humans are doing things they only do alone. But even more than that they love when humans feel they are being watched, they love when even the lone fear the panopticon's gaze.

There are larger demons too that this new world has made to exist. Just as the forests, and rivers, and deserts have their nature spirits, and the cities and towns have their guardian spirits, there are places with evil spirits, places with no nature yet nothing built for humans. There are great worm spirits who gaurd the highways, their ethereal bodies stretching for miles, ready to rip humans and animals who dare walk in their land of cars to shreds. Dying malls have their spirits of greed, things that hate forests and cities alike, things with white tile bodies and electric light eyes, gluttons who want to eat and eat and will never be satisfied if they don't eat more, they want humans inside of their castles, and they don't want them to ever rest, to ever create. Even the empty streeted suburbs have spirits, spirits of the lawns and golf courses that poison the earth, things that fear outsiders, things that don't want human souls out past 8:00, spirits of boredom, spirits of waiting, spirits that love the thought of a town without a single family owned store.

They infest our world now, and they have not always. But just as there are evil spirits, there are good ones too. The artists have spirits, the city streets have spirits, what nature still remains has spirits, the protests and the riots have spirits. Perhaps they will win, perhaps the demons will, it matters now who humanity fights for, and which spirits we let grow strong.

[authortoberecognized]

WRITER’S FORUM  FLASH FICTION

                        WEBSITES HELPFUL TO WRITERS   This is a series of posts which, I think, will be beneficial to writers. But first, I would like to include my usual warning about using websites. Whenever you check a website you are, in my opinion and I talk from experience, being put on a list for sale. So, expect the possibility of being bombarded by ads from companies you, perhaps,…