Its been a long while, but I’ve finally made back it to Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers in time for the week’s story.. Thanks Priceless Joy for providing another great prompt 🙂
Upon reflection, using the balloon seller’s bike probably wasn’t the most practical choice of getaway vehicle, but it was there and I was in a hurry. Anyway, hiding in plain sight is meant to be more effective then stealth isn’t it?
I had to elbow past gawking toddlers and a few nosey grannies, and may have toppled an ice-cream or two, but those were minor misdemeanours, a small price for the greater good.
I pedalled as fast as my rhinestone encrusted stilettos would permit, the deflated meringue of a dress dragging sadly behind. Should have torn that silly train off when I had the chance.
Most people didn’t quite register what they were seeing – maybe they thought that I was part of the entertainment. The Crazy Bride, a modern day rendition of the Bearded Lady, perhaps. Anyway, who cares what they thought – the important thing was that I was NOT getting married today.
This is my contribution to this week’s Monday’s Finish the Story, brought to us by Barbara Beacham. Thanks Barbara for another great prompt!
Finish the story starts with: “The team employed the use of Nightshade to get the information they wanted from their captive.”
Their captive sat staring at the floor with unseeing eyes. Robbie turned to his audience. “See boys? This is how we do business in the Nightshade Clan. Total submission, and without a drop of blood being spilt.”
He slowly circled his prize, careful to let the echo of each step beat into the room before following with the next. “This is why we are the most evolved of the Clans. Because we have moved beyond the need for baseless violence.” He waited for the murmurs of approval to die out before continuing.
“The Roses, they like to stab with their thorns. And the Iris’s..” He rubbed the scar which marred length of his arm. “The Irises, now they like to work slowly.”
He stopped in front of the chair and grabbed a handful of hair, snapping the head back to stare into a pair of cloudy white eyes. “And we will afford them the same courtesy.”
This is my contribution to this week’s Monday’s Finish the Story, brought to us by Barbara Beacham. Finish the story begins with : “He thought he found the perfect hiding spot.” He thought he found the perfect hiding spot from which to plot his escape plan. He had overhead the slaves discussing V.E.T today. Pfft. Do they really think that cats can’t spell? He knew that simply hiding in the lair wouldn’t work, because the slaves, despite appearances were smart enough to find him. Plus there was also the issue of food, so he couldn’t just hide in here forever. He extracted a set of claws and tested them against the leather lounge. Not bad. But over the years, the slaves seemed to have become impervious to threats and actual demonstrations of violence. More was needed. But what? He flicked his tail back and forth, running through the scenarios, until it came to him. Of course. He jumped onto the kitchen benchtop and dragged the car keys into his mouth, careful not to bite into the stupid squeaky keyring. A few minutes later, the deed was done. The keys buried deep within the litterbox, never to be found. With a satisfied swish of his tail, he pushed open the nearest bedroom door and hopped back into bed.
This is my cat Brutus, demonstrating his version of the Cat in Bag. He’s 16 now, so (hopefully) his evil plan hatching days are behind him 🙂
This is my contribution to Monday’s Finish the Story – brought to us by Barbara Beacham.
Finish the story starts with: “The petroglyphs told the story of an unusual event.”
It told of the day that our world died. And it told us of a time before the event which plunged our world into darkness. They say these carvings were made by those who had seen the old world. A world where we could create daylight with the touch of a finger, and fly around the world inside the belly of a giant bird. A world where there was more food than we could ever consume. And water. There were oceans and rivers in this world, so much water that you could immerse yourself in it.
Then the rock fell from the sky, and our world was changed forever.
But this is just a story, a child’s tale. Some say that there was no old world, and that the carvings were made to give us something to dream about.
Here’s my contribution to this week’s Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers, brought to us by Priceless Joy.
Albatross Island wasn’t known for its warm inviting waters or white sandy beaches. The tiny speck of rock stuck out of a remote, wind swept corner of the North Atlantic, unknown to most of the world. We called it Fools Island, after the fools who thought to live on it once, and the fools think to visit it now.
They come to chase the big waves. 100 foot giants, pushed off the continental plates beneath the island.
This year like every other, they descended upon the island during storm season when the biggest waves formed. Most of them rode in on boats and jetskis, but the diehards stayed in the old abandoned fort on the main part of the island.
Why do we call it Fools Island? Because Albatross Island sits inside the crater of a dormant volcano, and everyone failed to notice the rumbling of the earth beneath. Needless to say, this year the surfers got a lot more than they bargained for in their search for adventure.
Here’s my contribution to this week’s FFfAW prompt, brought to us by Priceless Joy.
Chateau Vieux Monde stood at the top of the hill, catching the first rays of the sun as it rose over the valley.
The Allen’s watched the sunrise before walking up the main steps. They had waited years for this moment, so the few extra minutes meant nothing. Conventional medicine had brought David no relief, and they had sold everything they owned to travel to this remote little corner of France based on nothing more than a rumour.
And now here they were- pressed into an oppressive little room deep beneath the Chateau, rank with the musty smells of earth and rot.
Monsieur Le Monde stood by a large black barrel and half filled a small tasting glass with a rich golden liquid. “Who first?”
David took the glass and gave it to his wife. She took a sip.
“Did it work?”
Monsieur Le Monde pressed a small knife into her hand.
“See for yourself Madame. Test your immortality.”
Here’s my contribution to this week’s Monday’s Finish the Story, brought to us by Barbara Beacham.
Finish the story begins with: “The barista shook his head. That hedge couldn’t have moved closer overnight. Could it?”
Ever since they’d been selling the new coffee, the customers were complaining about its unusual side effects. That they were seeing fuzzy outlines around trees, and shadows flitting at the edge of their vision. Some people were even talking to dead relatives. The barista didn’t believe in such things, so when one of the regulars bet him $50 to drink a double espresso, he just thought that it was easy money. Except now he wasn’t so sure. The coffee came in a small black bag with a name, and nothing else. “Midnight Brew.” He hesitated, twirling the tiny espresso glass before taking a sip of the thick black brew. Heartbeat quickened, pupils dilated, everything came into sharp focus. It tasted of chocolate, and flowers, of his first kiss, of mothers milk, of tears, and of life itself. He shook his head and blinked. Was the topiary hedge waving at him?
Here’s my contribution to this weeks’s Monday’s Finish the Story, brought to us by Barbara Beacham.
Finish the story starts with “At first, it looked like an ordinary marble, but it was far from it.”
To the untrained eye, it was nothing more than a trinket, piled into the old straw basket sitting in a dusty corner of the bookshop. Cheap treats left at child height, making it easy for little hands to scoop out a reward for good behavior..
Mikah had already walked out of the store when a commotion made her glance back . A little girl had upturned the basket, scattering its contents all over the shop floor. She stepped back in to help the girl’s father and the shop owner who were frantically trying to clean up the mess. She stuck her hand under a bookshelf to pull out some of the escapees, and jumped back as a bolt of electricity ran up her arm. Shaking, she uncurled her fingers and stared at the tiny white orb which lay, ice cold, against her skin. It could only be one thing. A world seed.
This week’s FFAW prompt reminds me of a talk I went to a few years ago by an economist from the UN, and it was about how the world’s coral reefs will all be gone within 50 years. 50 years! Anyway, enough of my soapbox, here’s the story..
Dr. Sandy Shaw led the expedition to track down the world’s last remaining coral reef.
All around the world, reefs were dying, hapless victims to warming seas, pollution, and over fishing.
It was too late to stop the decline as the tipping point was reached well before we even knew what was happening, and ecosystems created over millions of years were being wiped out in less than a generation- all that could be done now was to salvage whichever species could be rescued.
But the degradation wasn’t over yet. A lucrative black market for highly endangered marine animals, some selling for millions of dollars had turned the oceans into a battleground.
And as they made their made way towards the tiny blue sanctuary, she saw the glint of other boats up ahead. Poachers. She gripped the barrel of her gun tighter as they drew closer. The hunt was on.
For this week’s MFTS challenge, I’m taking some inspiration from a story that I’m working on (kind of) about the old gods..
Finish the Story begins with: “Zeus was not having a good day and he made sure everyone knew it.”
He had just turned himself into a dolphin, ready for a serious day of frolicking in the Aegean with a couple of mermaids when he finally got the call.
And now he was sitting in a cramped little cave in the middle of theTibetan Himalayas freezing his tan off.
“Odin, just so you know, next time I choose the venue, yeah?”
He looked around the crowded room. “So who’re we waiting on?”
Buddha sat on cave floor, eyes closed, with a soft smile playing on his lips. “Your daughter, Thunder God. The goddess of the Earth.”
“That bloody, Gaia, never on time. She’s probably off saving a rainforest somewhere.. Apollo, go and get your sister.”
“But Father.. it’s not sunrise yet.” A bolt of lightening struck the God of the Sun as he ran out the cave.
Zeus turned back to the Old Father. “Right. So what’s the plan to save humanity?”