Flash Fiction Month 2019, Day 31
Challenge #13: Write a story involving a character who is somewhere they shouldn’t be but doesn’t seem to mind. It must also include the following words: satchel, cookie, penguin, tuque, vixen, marbles, sunglasses.
There was a crackle of lightning. A ball of light appeared and slowly grew, vaporising part of a lighting rig and leaving the cut edges glowing molten orange. A figure appeared, kneeling, in the epicentre of the event.
Richard Nixon shielded his eyes, partly because of the fierce light and partly because—as expected—the figure was completely nude. He nodded for his aide to take the next step, and the aide nodded in response, sunglasses flashing in the studio spotlights.
The aide approached the figure and handed over a simple robe, which was gratefully accepted.
“James Cameron,” said the President. “Do you know where you are? And…when you are?”
“Oh, yeah!” The filmmaker looked around the sound stage in awe. “I remember watching this when I was fourteen! I had no idea it was faked, though. That’s some spectacular work! Who did it?”
“If all goes to plan,” said Richard Nixon, significantly, “you.” Continue reading
Flash Fiction Month 2019, Day 30
You are Gallopy Buzzbrain – a unicorn with a chainsaw for a horn – and you have been selected for the most brutal arena deathmatch in the whole southern hemisphere.
An air-horn blares. The Chunder Games are about to begin.
“I can get you out of here,” says the combat wombat in the cell next to yours, “but you have to do exactly what I say.”
Do that: 2
Murder him: 3
“When the gates open, let me ride you.”
The gates open.
You jam your horn through the cage bars and revel in the meat-splatter.
“DISQUALIFIED!!!” bellows the announcer.
Mope in your pen: 4
Arena violence: 5
You sit out the deathmatch and have no fun at all.
Flash Fiction Month 2019, Day 29
There was a rattle of chains as a counterweight dropped from the ceiling. Adonis Orcbane found himself suddenly dangling by both ankles, caught in a fiendish snare. His sword slipped from its scabbard and clattered to the ground. Focusing every ounce of his indomitable will, Adonis stretched his arm out as far as he could, trying to reclaim it. His gauntleted fingers just barely brushed the hilt, and…
…a thigh-high boot kicked it deftly out of reach.
“You were a fool to trespass in my domain,” said the villain who had appeared, “for I am Zhargla the Malicious, and tales of my cruelty are told across the land!”
Zhargla paced about the room a bit, partly because it looked really freakin’ cool and partly because her captive was slowly spinning round and it was really awkward trying to have a conversation with someone while they gradually turned farther and farther away from you.
“Those tales,” said Adonis Orcbane, through gritted teeth, “are precisely why I came.”
“Mmmmmmm… Then I shall be sure not to disappoint.”
Zhargla the Malicious stepped over to the low table that held her many diabolical implements.
“Perhaps the Lash of Ghkharkhak can beat some of that hubris out of you. Or maybe a few days on the Rack of Gzhou.”
“I’ll never bow to you, foul despot!” cried the paladin, the effect only somewhat diminished by the fact that he was now facing away from her again. Continue reading
Flash Fiction Month 2019, Day 27
Challenge #12*: David Bowie Day. Write a story worth at least 100 Bowie Points based on the following scoring system: 1 point for each non-consecutive letter Z, 5 points for each string of song lyrics, 20 points for meeting a specific word count (69, 270, 369, 599, 700), and 10 points for each reference to Bowie’s movies or personas (a labyrinth, goblins, stolen babies, bogs of stench, a magic dance, moving the stars, childhood obsessions, memory loss, one or more men that fall to earth, aliens in disguise, best intentions, unforeseen complications, dying planets, a character with heterochromia, a character that is an avid painter or art collector, glass spiders, lots of drugs, saying goodbye, dramatic departures, black stars, swansong, an alien god with a guitar, five years, a character that is bisexual or LGBTQ, a character that is struggling with mental illness, dead roses, lightning bolts, panic in Detroit). Optionally, the story must also include a character with a distaste for music.
This story is worth 1258 Bowie Points altogether.
“YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!!!” yelled the wizard, as he crashed through the ceiling of Girth Loinhammer’s subterranean labyrinth.
“Hi Grandalf,” said Girth.
“Hi.” Grandalf the Gay stood up and brushed the dust from his robes.
“Tough day?” asked Sekhmet, once she’d finished her mouthful of black pudding bagel.
He squinted up through the hole he’d just made. “I think the eagles are getting tired of me using them like Uber.”
“Maybe you should…not do that?”
“I try not to take advantage, but I’m old, my knees ache, and I can hitch a ride with an eagle without having to climb downstairs.” Continue reading
Flash Fiction Month 2019, Day 26
Banana banana banana banana banana banana banana banana banana banana banana banana pineapple banana banana banana banana banana banana banana banana banana banana banana banana banana banana banana banana banana banana banana banana banana grapes banana banana banana banana banana banana banana banana banana banana banana banana mango banana banana banana banana banana banana banana.
If you’ve enjoyed this story, you can find my work from previous Flash Fiction Months collected in these books:
Click any cover to find that book in your choice of format.
Flash Fiction Month 2019, Day 25
Challenge #11: Write a story featuring a protagonist whose occupation is chosen at random from the following list: teacher, actor, medical professional (nurse, doctor, etc), retail worker, postal worker, management (of any kind), military, engineer/maintenance. They must have a rival, also chosen at random: brother/sister, childhood friend, co-worker, competitor. Optionally, the story must also take place in a random setting: zero gravity, wartime, post-apocalyptic, underwater.
My randomly selected elements were: retail worker, competitor, zero gravity.
The travellers’ lounge of the Uranian Orbital Waystation was not a great place to run a diner. For one thing, it was way out in the sticks so there were hardly any customers. For another, its extreme distance from Earth necessitated the use of hibernation pods, and nausea from the drugs involved tended to exacerbate the already considerable problem of space sickness. Finally (as every single visitor to the station just had to quip), “Nobody wants to eat a meal while staring at Uranus.”
Adding insult to injury, however, everybody wanted to eat while staring at Uranus. A research vessel docked, and its team of scientists immediately flooded into Dave’s Chicken Popper Palace (which had a full-length window looking out onto the planet’s surface), completely shunning Darren’s Premium Chicken Poppers (which was on the opposite side of the station, and therefore had a full-length window looking out only onto the radiator fins of Auxiliary Coolant Pump C). Continue reading
Flash Fiction Month 2019, Day 24
Doctor Hewlett checked the next two names on her schedule: Nic Panaso and Mark Lex. She called them in.
“So,” she began. “Tell me a little about your relationship: how did you two meet?”
“Well,” said Nic. “It was at that electronics superstore—the one just outside of town. We were at the same checkout, and we just sort of clicked. It was like we were made for each other, you know? Like we were meant to be together.”
“It’s common to feel that something’s missing once that initial excitement wears off, but you must still see something in each other.”
“Well, yes! We still connect on so many levels: USB, Bluetooth, even over our home network. But—”
Doctor Hewlett put up a hand. “I’m quite conscious that I haven’t heard a word from Mark yet.” She turned to him. “Is there anything you’d like to say?”
Mark leaned forward significantly. “Black ink low.” Continue reading
Flash Fiction Month 2019, Day 22
“Is there a doctor on board? Anybody?”
The flight attendant looked around, absolutely dreading having to follow that question up. There was no response.
“Okay. Then, does anyone…um…does anyone know how to fly a plane?”
The cabin erupted into mass screaming. This was exactly the response she’d been hoping to avoid. She ducked back into the cockpit and locked the door, just for a chance to think through what the heck to do now.
“What is it?” asked a woman who’d inexplicably turned up in there. “What’s wrong?”
“Aaaaaah!” screamed the flight attendant. Right now the main thing that was wrong was that the aircraft seemed to have gained a passenger mid-flight. Continue reading
Flash Fiction Month 2019, Day 21
“Behold! It is us, the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse!”
“Shouldn’t that be ‘It is we’?” asked a figure at the front of the crowd, index finger raised.
War casually lopped his head off with his trusty sword. “No. ‘Us’ is grammatically correct.”
There was a pause.
“Ah,” War added. “I probably should have said that before I decapitated him.”
Death sighed, turned and called forth the jaws of Hades that followed ever behind him.
War put a hand to his mouth and shouted into the terrible void: “Actually, ‘us’ was right!”
As the echoes died down, a distant voice drifted back: “Okay, that’s cool.”
“Cheers, dude.” War offered Death a high five, yet was left hanging. Continue reading
Flash Fiction Month 2019, Day 15
“This is the ship that did the Sselek run in less than twelve parsecs.”
“Isn’t a parsec a unit of distance rather than time?”
“Come now, Buke,” put in Ken Benobi. “I’m sure that what this dashing space-rogue means is that he managed to take a particularly dangerous shortcut, and that completing the journey without needing to travel any farther is a demonstration of his skill.”
“Okay, but even if you take that to be the case, isn’t it kind of weird for the pilot of an interstellar spacecraft to boast about a twelve-parsec journey? Twelve parsecs wouldn’t get you beyond the closest handful of stars. I mean, we say we want him to take us to the other side of the country, and his response is ‘I can drive to the corner shop really, really fast.’ Are we sure we want to hire this guy?”
“I’m sure he’s quite capable of—”
“Also he’s wearing an unwashed pair of Y-fronts on his head.”
Ken Benobi took a moment to study the cantina patron’s curious choice of headgear before turning to Buke Skytalker. “Okay, you know what? Maybe we should ask around. I mean, it never hurts to have options…”