Friday, August 16, 2013

Flash Friday



This week's Flash Fiction piece is brought to you by Monique Happy. Find her links at the end, and enjoy!

Triumph of Chastity

She cocked her greying head and listened intently.  She could faintly hear a baby crying, which was odd because she was nowhere near the village.  It should have been deserted this far out in the forest.  She rose stiffly to her feet, grabbed the lantern from the table and stepped outside.  The evening air was cool and dark, and the lantern cast only a faint circle of light around her feet.  It was enough, however, to light her way along the path to the creek.  She could still hear the baby, its wail drawing her on.  She shivered and hugged her shawl more tightly about her with her left hand, the right holding the lantern before her.

“Hello?  Is anyone there?”  She called out, then wondered why she felt so nervous.  After all, if someone was traveling the dark forest at night with a baby, they probably weren’t a brigand or a…

*sssnaaappp* 

She froze as she heard the branch break.  All sounds nearby ceased, the forest holding its breath.  She felt the hairs on the back of her neck bristle and she knew she was not alone. 

“Hello?  I know you’re there.  Come out.”  She tried a commanding tone, but her voice quavered, betraying her fear.  She cleared her throat and called out again, louder this time.  “Show yourself!” 

Slowly, out of the darkness ahead a large, glowing shape detached itself from the lingering shadows of the conifer trees.  Pacing regally towards her was a creature straight out of myth.  It was vaguely horse-like in appearance, but its head was tinier, its neck more sinuous and lithe.  What brought a gasp of delight to her wrinkled lips was the creature’s luminescent, nascent horn which spiraled straight up from its forehead.  The unicorn - for that’s what it was - stopped directly in front of her and then bent its front legs in obeisance.  It bleated gently, and she recognized the sounds she'd been following. 

"Well, hasn't this turned into a fortunate excursion?  Come here, my beauty," she crooned, aged hands stroking the unicorn's nose.  The beast rose to its feet and trustingly followed her along the path towards home.  The old crone smiled to herself, her fingers tangled in its mane.  With what she could get for selling the unicorn's parts on the black market, she could retire and get out of this damned forest.  It certainly came in useful, sometimes, being the oldest virgin in the kingdom.

Finis



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Friday, August 9, 2013

Flash Friday

It's that time again, Flash Fiction Friday. This week's piece is also from the writing prompt, "You find a package with nothing but your name on it."

Package
Rick Powell



July 12, 2013
This is my confession in the death of Judith Robinson. I do not know how long I have left. I feel the poison going through my system as I write this. My hand is still burning from the needle after it pierced my left hand. I hope to finish this statement before I pass out. Yeah, I killed her. Me. Johnathon Edwards of 131 Maple Street in Monince, Delaware. I killed her by strangulation on June 6th, 2013. I killed her in the back of the Chemistry Room 101 in the Monince College Campus. I do not know how she managed it. I know it was her. No one could have done this to me. She always said she would never die without me. I had no idea what I got myself into when I fell in love with her. She loved me even more. I tried breaking it off so many times when the love faded. She wouldn't let go. She would not stop loving me. Even when I could not take it anymore and had my hands squeezing her neck, she never screamed or even showed any fear. Just her smile. She was strange. She was different. I wish I knew then what I know now. I wish I could think clearly. I am following the instructions in the package I opened up 3 hours ago that just had JOHN written on it that was left at the door of my dorm. The box is on the counter along with the note she left with the instructions to write this confession. The syringe is on the table after I pulled it out of the packing peanuts. I knew she would get me. God help me, I knew. Look at the date on the package. Look at when it was mailed. I could not have believed it myself. There was no way I could have been free after what I did. Look at the letter. That is her writing. I know her writing. That package was mailed 2 weeks after her death!
Hard to breathe god forgive m

Friday, August 2, 2013

Flash Friday

It's that time of the week! Flash Fiction Friday.

This week's prompt was, "You find a package at your door with nothing but your name on it."

MATURE CONTENT WARNING
Please be aware, the following content is for audiences 18 and older.

The Day My Heart Came Back
Eric Keys
Word count: approx. 525


I heard the box land on the front porch with a thud. I opened the door and could tell it wasn't an official package from any shipping service. It looked like it was wrapped by a one-armed drunk. And there was no address, just my name - Johnny. Well, not my real name but the one I used most often.
I tore it open and inside it was my still-beating heart. I half expected to see a note saying: From the city of San Francisco. Instead I saw Liz out of the corner of my eye aiming a sawed-off shotgun at me with her left hand. Her right arm was mangled beyond recognition.
"That explains the wrapping job," I said. She then shot my face up with the shot-gun. "Bitch," I said.
I pulled my heart out of the box and began to eat it.
"Better eat it fast, the cops are hot on my trail," she said. "State police should figure out which way I'm headed pretty fast and the locals will be here shortly thereafter."
"I'm underwhelmed with the response," I said as I saw one town cruiser pull up.
"I guess I overestimated how soon they'd pick up my scent," she said.
By this time my wife had woken up from her drunken stupor and come down to see what the commotion was all about. The cop was pointing his gun at us and yelling something.
"I got to disentangle myself before we go, Lizzie," I said. I then grabbed my wife by the neck and twisted her head with a satisfying crack. The cop shot me a few times. I guess he underestimated how quickly Liz could move because she clocked him good with the butt of her shotgun.
I secured his half-conscious body in the back of his cruiser and Liz began licking the blood and gore left on my face from her shotgun blast. "You sure know how to get a guy's motor running," I said, watching her spit out little bits of buckshot she had torn from my mangled flesh. "But we got to run. Our Patrons probably would frown on a big shoot out with the cops."
She nodded and we got in the car. She rode shotgun, of course. As we drove, the cop in the back started sobbing. "Please don't kill me, I've got kids," he choked out.
"Oh, shit," I said, "we can't kill him 'cuz he's got kids."
"Well," said Lizzie, adopting a very rational tone, "we'll just have to kill his kids first."
The stupid cop went back to sobbing. I knew Liz could get the locations of his children from him. She can be very persuasive. I couldn't wait to watch his face as we killed the little tykes in front of him, pain all the worse for knowing he'll have let them down by helping us find them.
"I love you, Lizzie," I said.
"Don't be a sentimental fuck," she replied with a huge smile, rubbing my hard cock through my bloody jeans with her good hand.
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