Flash Fiction: A Moment Captured

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The sunset had been going on for over four hours now. At first, it was easy to rationalize. Our perception of time was relative. As the adage goes, time flies when you’re having fun. Similarly, in agony, a moment lasts an eternity.

Somehow, the red-orange halo that spread out over the world at the dying of the light, never quite managed to sink below the horizon. As afternoon became twilight, and evening became midnight, I was starting to regret the offhand remark I’d made as I held my wife’s hand and casually suggested, “I wish this sunset could last forever.”

~100 words

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Via Bikurgurl 100 Word Wednesday Week #77

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Flash Fiction: Alone at Last

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It is not foggy at all on the day the world ends. Everyday the fog rolled in off the river, and I drove to work, blinking away sleep, before anyone else was on the road, I hoped today would be the day. With no other living soul in sight, it was easy to pretend.

Instead, as I walk across the river bridge, through a surreal crop of abandoned vehicles, I look up through the beams at a bright, blue sky. I breathe in deep the warm sun, and smile.

I hope there will be zombies. Please, let it be zombies.

~100 words

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Via Bikurgurl 100 Word Wednesday Week #76

 

Flash Fiction: View from a Red Schwinn

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I am Flash Gordon, as I zoom down the sidewalk. The trees are not trees, but spinning, spiral galaxies, their leaves are not leaves, but stars. My rocketship’s wheels grind over concrete, skip over the curb to asphalt. Ming the Merciless’s fleet is hot on my tail.

At the top of the hill, I look out into the void. The slope is daunting; I have crashed and burned here before, skinning my knees and elbows. I hesitate.

They are close behind me now, whooping, hollering taunts and jeers. I breathe deep, lean forward and push off. It feels like flying.

~100 words

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Via Bikurgul 100 Word Wednesday Week #74

Flash Fiction: The Brotherhood of Iron

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The Order Part III

“Again,” said the monk.

Constance drew back the bow, squeezing her shoulders together. She let the string go. The arrow sang through the air, thudding into the rotten stump. The ground around the stump was littered with shafts from previous attempts.

“You’ve improved. You actually hit your target this time.”

Constance returned the old monk’s smile in spite of herself. Then, remembering her task, the parcel she’d dutifully delivered, the smile faded.

“You’ve been very kind, Atheus, but I must return to my own Order.”

Atheus placed a hand on her shoulder. “Are you sure that’s what you want?”

~99 words

Via Carrot Ranch May 31st Flash Fiction Challenge: Warrior Women

Part of the series “The Order”

Flash Fiction: Hemingway Epilogue

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The boy finished scrubbing the boat clean. He stood back and admired his handiwork. The boat had been caked in dried blood, that of the old man, and that of the marlin, now an eighteen foot skeleton, easily mistaken for a shark. This was the least that the boy could do for his former master.

Elsewhere, Santiago lay, a cruciform stigmata, his last and greatest battle, fought and won. The old man had wrestled with himself, and with nature, and had only bones to show for his efforts.

And yet, the Algerian tells us, we must imagine Sisyphus as happy.

~100 words

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Via Bikurgurl — 100 Word Wednesday Week #73

 

 

Flash Fiction: The Storyteller

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Mrs Snelling propped her tired, old flesh in the children’s corner of the library, surrounded by a circle of young, fresh faces. They sat, Indian style, at the feet of the master, eyes open to catch the dew of wisdom that dripped from the magic vapor of her words.

She cleared her throat. “Well, children. What story do you want to hear today?”

“I wanna hear a true story,” said little Bobby Jenkinson.

Mrs Snelling gave a warm smile, turned the first page of Arabian Nights with the gnarled roots that were here arthritic hands.

“Ah, but they’re all true.”

~100 words

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Via Bikurgurl — 100 Word Wednesday Week #70

Flash Fiction: Evolution

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Under the ocean, there is always a storm. Even on a clear day like today, the currents below whirl in a never-ending tempest. We see only the gently rippling surface, while the Leviathan breeds beneath the waves.

We came from the ocean, desperately squirming on our bellies, then later tentatively trying out our new appendages. The sun gave us our eyes, and gravity gave us our muscles. We use them to hunt for food, and to escape.

Some say we will go back to the ocean one day, but I know the truth. I know that we fled in terror.

~100 words

Via Bikurgurl — 100 Word Wednesday Week #69

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