Wednesday, November 30, 2011

FlashFiction summary 11-21 thru 11-30

Last week I was out of town visiting family in Seattle and didn't get the chance to write a lot of #flashfiction, and this week, I have an interview with erotica author Emerald on Friday, December 2nd, so I'm offering the summery of flash today. I hope you'll come back on Friday to read the interview and get insight into an erotica author's perspective on sex.

Last week was Thanksgiving, but I did manage to write a #MenageMonday entry that won Honorable Mention from the judge. We had to write a 200 word story to the following prompts. The photo, the phrase "the difference between", and the story had to include an astral projection (out of body experience). I wrote two entries because the host complained that everyone wrote about car accidents. ;) The first is entitled, "Next Turn".

The difference between living and dying was a heartbeat; a speck of time immeasurable in its smallest aspect.

Lillian found herself standing at the edge of the grass boarder between the sidewalk and the road, the sun painting hazy shadows of a street light on the ground. A crumpled plastic garbage can with 602 painted on it lay discarded a few feet away from her feet.

602 . . . that was her house number. She shifted her distracted gaze to her yard and confusion swamped her. A mangled hunk of twisted metal and glass marred the collapsed wall of what had been her bedroom. She could only tell it was a car from the tail lights glaring red. A bloodied man struggled to get out of a warped car door, his actions unsteady and inebriated.

A breeze ruffled her hair just before a warm body pressed to her back and gentle hands settled on her shoulders as white leathery wings embraced her. Lillian tried to see who held her, but she felt as uncoordinated as the drunk driver who’d hit her house.

“It’s time to go, Lillian,” a warm voice murmured.

“Go where?”

“The next turn on the Wheel.”

The second entry came from listening to Barenaked Ladies' Elves' Lament, and has no car accidents.

“Hit it again!” Sparkles shrieked as Tinsel walloped the fat plastic container with an industrial-sized candy cane.

“Harder!” Wreath shouted gleefully.

“Don’t you know the difference between cheap plastic crap and real craftsmanship?” Tinsel grunted, slamming the cane down again. “You fat bastard! We work our asses off to make beautiful toys and you want that junk found in dollar stores!”

Garland gestured for the cane. “My turn.”

Tinsel handed it off.

“You think you’re a god?” she snarled, aiming for the crude writing on one side. “Without us, you’d  just be a fat, lazy schlep who couldn’t get anything done, much less deliver toys on time!”

“You mean, deliver crap on time!” Tinsel added.

Garland hit the can so hard, a piece broke off the cane and slammed into Wreath’s head, knocking him off his feet. His form shimmered, then dissolved into a hazy wraith with a black frown and arms akimbo.

“Oh shit, he’s lost control of his form!” Sparkles gasped. “We better get out of here. It’ll be dawn soon.”

The elves grabbed the broken pieces of candy cane and beat a hasty retreat back to the North Pole before the boss realized they'd been gone.

I'm still chuckling over that one. Remember folks, don't buy dollar store crap! Lol. This last Monday, I wrote another #MenageMonday entry for Cara Michaels to the following photo, the phrase "the dying light", and unwarranted enthusiasm from everyone except the protagonist. It's entitled, "Clue Party."

“This is so exciting!” Blanca gushed as she stapled my arm to her plush breasts and bounced a little. “I can’t believe we’re going to take part in a Clue party!”

I tried to give her an encouraging smile as I swept my gaze around the foyer bathed in the dying light of the setting sun. The open front doors to the mansion let in the scents of wet autumn air and a deluge of people attending the Clue Event: A Night of Mystery and Humor. Most of them chatted with voices full of excitement and Blanca dragged me over to a sidebar with silver candlesticks, an ornate clock, and a minipalm set on its glossy surface.

“Welcome!” The butler’s British voice boomed out over the crowd. “Once we close the doors, the show will begin!”

“Why is everyone so damn enthusiastic?” I grumbled while Blanca picked up a candlestick. “Why am I here, again?”

Unease snaked up my spine as she turned her brilliant smile to me. “Don’t you remember? You signed all the release forms.”

“The release forms for what?”

“To be Mr. Body.”

She swung hard and I heard, "Mrs. White in the Foyer with the Candlestick."

Mwahahahahaha! I loved both the movie and the game. :) On Tuesday this week, we were given the following photo and the word "Twist" for a short 100 word story for #TuesdayTales. Mine is entitled "Winter Retreat."

He’d made it! A simple solo fishing and backpacking trip had turned into eighteen hours of slogging through the worst freak autumn snowstorm in twenty years.

Max damn near cried when he saw the old green wooden cabin, the red roof festooned with sharp icicles glittering in the waning sun.

He leaned his forehead against the frozen door, huffing his relief. Shelter and the possibility of a hot meal made him twist the doorknob and shove his way inside.

Light from single broken window illuminated his surprised feline companion.

Apparently he wasn’t the only one seeking shelter and hot meal.

Nice kitty-kitty. :) Today, I wrote 100 words for the #HumpDayChallenge to the following five word prompts: "Friday", "Painful", "Grandma", "Skip", and "Glazed". Mine is entitled, "Skip's Friend" (and I won Honorable Mention for it, too.  :)

Skip stood beside his brother Joey, his eyes glazed with tears as the others lowered the casket into the dirt. He’d been looking so forward to this Friday when they’d all planned to go to the beach to throw the Frisbee with Hank and search the tide pools for critters. Hank loved doing that.

Each thought of his friend was a painful reminder of the loss and Skip angrily wiped the tears away with his sleeve. Grandma would’ve given him the gimlet eye for that, but he didn’t care. Someone had poisoned his dog and he’d make them pay.

Never, ever, kill a kid's dog. That's just wrong! I hope you've enjoyed my #Flashfiction entries for this week (and last). Thanks for stopping by and happy reading! :)


  1. I enjoyed how clipped you kept the paragraphs; it facilitates reading in such a narrow space, and pushed the story along. Would you consider italicizing the non-story paragraphs, though? The posts might scan a little cleaner that way for readers like me.

  2. Thanks for the comment, John. Next time I'll color code them so it's obvious where the stories are. Thanks again. :)


Comments are on moderation, so they'll become visible once I've read them. Words, words, words. I love them. Have you a few to lend?

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