Tag Archives: flash fiction

March 2, 2014

All Wrung Out

This story deals with somewhat disturbing material. Just a heads up. It’s a story for Al Forbes’ Sunday Photo Fiction. A bit over the word limit, but please forgive me this time.

All Wrung Out

I feel wrung out, with a soul like an old dishrag, flapping in the burning wind. But you gotta keep on, so I flip a smile, crack a joke and pretend. We all do.

“We got a drill hole on 10^th Avenue,” Marc calls. “A real slip-n-slide.”

“And here I forgot my bathing suit,” I say, climbing into the truck.

There are no survivors, of course. The laser beam drilled a perfect hole down through the 20-story building, gutting it and disintegrating everything in its path. Nobody calls us when there are survivors, only when there is “organic material” to clean up. I don’t mind the “organic material”; it’s picking up the body parts I can recognize that gets to me. Nobody said war was pretty.

“Do you ever wish one of those lasers would get us?” Marc asks that evening. “Just erase the memories and nightmares forever.”

“What, and leave this dream job?” I say, laughing and taking a swig of beer.

He looks at me with pain in his eyes, pleading silently for me to be serious, just once. But I can’t do it, because I feel so thin inside that if I stop smiling, I’ll shatter.

I’m just all wrung out.

14 Comments | tags: Alastair's Photo Fiction, death, fiction, flash fiction, horror, violence, war | posted in Dark

February 26, 2014

I Killed Rapunzel – Friday Fictioneers

By David Stewart

I Killed Rapunzel

I killed Rapunzel.

The hair, it finally got to her. Some say it was the five hours of brushing a day that sent her mad; others, that her conditioner was cursed. All I know is she started strangling people.

She got five cops down on Brown Street; broke their necks with a single tug. Nothing there when I arrived but five corpses, and a single, 90-foot strand of hair.

I finally got her with a poison-tipped comb. No reward; they just handed me a pair of scissors.

Now what am I going to do with thirty bales of flaxen hair?

58 Comments | tags: crime, dark humor, death, detective, fairy tale, fiction, flash fiction, Friday Fictioneers, funny, hair, murder, quirky, Rapunzel | posted in Friday Fictioneers

February 23, 2014

Private Darkness

By David Stewart

Private Darkness

Felicity prided herself on her unflappability, and yet she was still shocked, one night, to see the moon being eaten away slowly, as if a gargantuan turtle were nibbling on the lettuce leaf that was the lunar disc.

“The moon is disappearing!” she screamed.

“It looks the same to me,” a passerby said, glancing up. “Full moon tonight.”

No one else say it. They insisted the moon was full even as Felicity watched the last silver sliver disappear from view. She watched the stars go dark as God’s spilled inkbottle continued gobbling up the sky.

The next day, the sun did not rise. The streetlights went off at their normal time and Felicity groped her way to work, using her phone as a flashlight. People eyed her strangely as they strode by.

From then on, she lived in a world of darkness and time became only a number on her watch. She began only going out at night, when artificial lights were lit. One evening, she was walking to the store when she heard someone scream, “The moon! It’s disappearing!”

Felicity smiled. It may be the end of the world, but at least she wasn’t crazy.

“Anything is bearable, when one does not have to endure it alone.” – R.W. Guy

10 Comments | tags: Alastair's Photo Fiction, apocalypse, catastrophe, darkness, fiction, flash fiction, moon | posted in Dusk

February 19, 2014

The Last Few Seconds – Friday Fictioneers

By David Stewart

I was quite surprised and pleased to open up Rochelle’s post today and see my picture. For the curious among you, this picture was taken in a small country school in Korea. In the two years I worked there, the enrollment ranged from 14-20 students from Grade 1-6, usually with 2-3 students per grade. Only two were from the area and the rest came from bigger cities and lived in a dorm as a sort of countryside exchange program. The school did have a electronic bell, but it couldn’t be heard well outside, so they hung up this bell to let the kids know when recess was over.

The Last Few Seconds

One minute remaining.

Brent Brianson stares at the clock, willing it to go faster. His lip trembles in anticipation, like a chinchilla caught in a hurricane.

Thirty seconds.

He is doing stretches, running in place.

Ring!

Out the door he goes, shoving aside the secretary coming in. A congratulatory cake smashes to the floor, like an egg fired from a howitzer. Gravel sprays the building as Brent peels out of the parking. A distant rumble indicates that Mr. Brianson has just broken the sound barrier.

The math class stares after him, aghast.

“Mr. Brianson couldn’t wait to retire, it seems.”

(This story is also dedicated to one of my high school math teacher, Mr. Bingle, who vowed he would leave as soon as his retirement came, even if it was in the middle of class. I think he’s retired by now, so I hope he’s enjoying it.)

58 Comments | tags: bell, fiction, flash fiction, Friday Fictioneers, funny, Korea, retirement, school | posted in Friday Fictioneers

February 12, 2014

Fructocidal – Friday Fictioneers

By David Stewart

After the creepy story last time, I decided for something a little lighter…kind of. I had a few people last week ask for more of the story, Jasper’s Lamp, so I wrote it. You can read the longer and creepier version of Jasper’s Lamp here, if you’d like.

Fructocidal

“I heard they found him with a bag of apple seeds. Then they discovered a banana in his basement, peeled and sliced lengthwise.”

“Come on, you’re gonna make me hurl.”

“You know what was in his pantry? Hundreds of jars . . . of jam.”

“Stop, or I’ll tell Mom.”

“They say he ate it on toast.”

“Quit it!”

“You don’t even want to know what he was drinking, but it had chopped up strawberries and oranges in it.”

“I’m gonna have nightmares now about getting picked.”

“Way up here on the top branch? Don’t worry, you’ll live to a ripe, old age.”

57 Comments | tags: cannibalism, death, fantasy, fiction, flash fiction, Friday Fictioneers, fructocidal, fruit, funny, quirky | posted in Friday Fictioneers

February 5, 2014

Jasper’s Lamp – Friday Fictioneers

By David Stewart

Jasper’s Lamp

Great-grandmother

“Jasper left me the lamp. It had a glass globe underneath it, a single eyeball floating inside. Creepiest thing I’d ever seen. “Keep it warm!” he said. He never came back, for me, the lamp or his daughter.”

Grandmother

“Mama gave me the lamp when I moved out. I had grown up with it, that little lump of flesh and two bulging eyes.”

Mother

“I didn’t want it, but I took it. The curled-up monster inside freaked me out.”

“‘Its eyes just opened,’ my daughter screamed from the basement. Then she screamed again and I heard glass shatter.

70 Comments | tags: creepy, fiction, flash fiction, Friday Fictioneers, horror, lamp, monster | posted in Friday Fictioneers

February 2, 2014

A Dog Named Lazarus

By David Stewart

For those of you unfamiliar with the Bible, the most famous Lazarus was a man who died and whom Jesus brought back to life. However, there is also another Lazarus in the Bible. This story takes its title from both of them, although somewhat indirectly.

This is a story for Al Forbes’ Sunday Photo Fiction.

Thief! Mutt! Cur!

These were the only names the dog had ever been called. Born to a mongrel mother in a nest of refuse, he was filthy an hour out of the womb and stayed that way his whole life.

But he was a survivor. He quickly learned where to find the best garbage and how to get into small, warm places to survive the Russian winters. One night, he wormed his way under the chain link fence of a large lab and through a door left ajar, where light and delicious smells were waiting for him.

“Ah! A stray!” Something shiny and round whistled through the air, the last thing the dog ever saw.

* * *

“Are you crazy? That mechanism costs more than your house!”

“It’s fine. See? No damage.” The scientist wiped the dog’s blood off the metal circle, then fitted it into the deep-space probe.

Years later, after billions of miles in the icy void of space, the probe was picked up, scanned, and the residual DNA aboard coaxed into life, tail wagging, bright eyes gleaming. The new species Dog lives there in peace and luxury, the countless millions of copies pampered like the original never was.

17 Comments | tags: Alastair's Photo Fiction, aliens, cloning, death, dog, fiction, flash fiction, Lazarus, science fiction, stray | posted in Dusk

January 30, 2014

What Does This Button Do? – Friday Fictioneers

By David Stewart

First of all, apologies to all the Fictioneers whose stories I didn’t get a chance to read last week. I’ve been doing a lot of traveling and it’s hard to read and comment on my phone. However, this week I’m going to make up for it by reading all of them.

Also, this story may seem a bit confusing, but stick with it to the end.

What Does This Button Do?

Just before the bombs struck, Patty pressed the button.

The high-pitched whistle above meant imminent death.

As she reached the workshop, she heard the dreaded drone of bombers above.

There it was, half-buried.

Penny scrambled over wreckage, biting back the scream that kept trying to rise.

The workshop! Was it still untouched?

She peered out of a burning hole into a hellscape littered with bodies and burning cars.

The next day, the bombs fell; Patty woke to heat and smoke.

“Ok.”

“It reverses the flow of time,” her uncle said. “Don’t touch it.”

“What does this button do?” Patty asked.

45 Comments | tags: bombing, death, fiction, flash fiction, Friday Fictioneers, science fiction, scientist, time reversal, time travel, war | posted in Friday Fictioneers

January 23, 2014

Just One Step Ahead – Friday Fictioneers

By David Stewart

Well, this week I’m on the road again, hiking by myself in rural Korea. I was planning to write this one on my phone, like last week, until I walked into my hotel and saw a computer. Nice serendipity.