Category Archives: Flash Friday Fiction

Flash Friday Fiction: One Lot to Rule Them All

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Night Archer
Night Archer. CC2.0 photo by Tanakawho.

One Lot to Rule Them All – 210 words

I was born here. It’s only fitting I return here.

Ma had been shopping for final nursery items. You know, onesies, bottles, that stupid blue elephant with the stitched eyes that made him look dead from the start.

Ma thought she had two more weeks. I had other plans. I was always precocious like that.

Now, finally, I’m an adult. I’ve reached the apex of my maturity.

Years of studying and training, days of sore muscles and strained eyes, nights of shadows and blackness as fear wrestled with reality; all brought me to this moment.

My first shift as parking lot attendant.

Let the others use their warning tickets, their weird little carts. I come armed with better weapons.

Took up two parking spaces? An arrow to the tire.

Paid for an hour but stayed three? Don’t expect to find your windshield intact.

Dared to park an SUV in a compact space? My bow shall make quick work of your antenna. No longer shall you enjoy the sounds of wailing boy bands as you seek out the best spot.

You will never have it. For I already do. I am power.

You won’t see me coming. I am stealth.

I am One with the Lot. I am…

The Parking Ninja.

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Some people might be able to taking this prompt and the required setting of a parking lot and come up with something richly moving, something emotionally evocative, something sharing the greatest truths about the depths of the human psyche within a mere 200 (+/- 10) words.

Not me. I went for funny. I love funny. Did I succeed?

Hop (or, you know, make your way with invisible, stealthy Ninja moves) on over to Flash Friday Fiction to check out the other takes on this week’s prompt – or draft one of your own!

Flash Friday Fiction: The Lady in White

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Black and White House. CC2.0 photo by Scott Ableman.
Black and White House. CC2.0 photo by Scott Ableman.

The Lady in White

He doesn’t notice me. Not really. It’s the people around me he comes to see. Day after day, I stand here, watching, waiting for him. He’s all I can think about. Those dashing blue eyes, that shock of blonde hair. Boots that glisten in the sun.

I long to get close to him, but there are so many barriers in our way. Physical, emotional, social. He remains a fantasy. I, a wallflower.

What would it feel like for him to touch me? For me to enfold him, welcome him in? I can’t see that happening, though. The fences between us are mighty.

Sometimes I think he must feel it, too, this longing. Why else would he return, day after day?

There’ve been others before him. There’ll be others after. They flock to me, the well-adorned spectacle. They can’t stay away. But they can’t approach, either.

If only everyone weren’t so overprotective. If only I were free. I’d make myself approachable. I’d welcome him in with doors wide open.

As it is, I stand here, as I have for hundreds of years. A lonely edifice of self, serving others, but rarely seen for who I am.

I am so much more than stone.

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Quickly done – I hope to write another one today if I get a chance. But I’m off to Williamsburg for a romance conference, so that may not happen. Still, I’d love to know what you think! Our focus this week was character, and the required element, in conjunction with the photo prompt, was “Girl Next Door.”

Plus, check out the other fabulous stories over on Flash Friday today.

Flash Friday Fiction TWOFER: The American Dream

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Whetting Interrupted, 1894. Public domain painting by Jose Ferraz de Almeida Junior.
Whetting Interrupted, 1894. Public domain painting by Jose Ferraz de Almeida Junior.

The American Dream – 207 words

“You can find a better life here,” they’d said. “Work hard and you can achieve anything you set your mind to,” they’d promised.

He’d tried.

But he’d never overcome their prejudices. Not really. He’d always been an outsider and always would be, his accent, his clothing, his food preferences betraying him at every turn.

She’d never cared. She hadn’t seen him as an immigrant. She’s seen a friend, and then, later, a lover.

He’d told her time and again it wouldn’t work, that they couldn’t last. That her father would kill them if he ever found out.

“Times are changing,” she’d argued. “You’ll see. I love you. You love me. That’s all we need, right?”

He’d held her close, saying nothing. There was nothing to say. He knew it would come to this. He’d always known.

He stood, facing down the shotgun, black eyes meeting blue across the barrel.

A scream echoed. He heard her feet running, her desperate cries for her father to stop.

But he knew that look in his adversary’s eyes. It was now or never. Everything boiled down to this moment.

He saw her pull on her father’s arm, saw the man hesitate.

At that moment, he picked up the axe. And swung.

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Yup. I wrote TWO stories for this week’s Flash Friday Fiction competition. Don’t know that either one will resonate with the judges, but I had fun anyway. What do you think?

Flash Friday Fiction: My Name is Rodrigo de Goya

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Whetting Interrupted, 1894. Public domain painting by Jose Ferraz de Almeida Junior.
Whetting Interrupted, 1894. Public domain painting by Jose Ferraz de Almeida Junior.

My Name is Rodrigo de Goya – 209 words

You had it coming.

All those years. All those years of abuse and torment, of hatred and subjugation.

You blamed it on ma. On how sick she was. You claimed the burden of worry overrode your good heart.

Bastardo.

The only heart you have is a cancerous one, a cancer worse than anything ma ever suffered, God rest her soul.

Here we stand now. Face to face. Man to man. Or man to Overlord.

For it’s your misfortune that you never explored that cave down the river. I did. Every chance I got, every possibility of escape led me there.

You rotter. I’d only come back to wait, to bide my time, to bring the apocalypse, the end of the world down on your miserable head. And everyone else’s. Everyone who’d seen me, black eyes and frightened face, and never said a word, never lifted a hand.

Today is Judgment Day.

They’ll be lifting those hands today, in supplication, begging for release from the alien plague I command at will.

For the aliens took me in once I discovered the portal to their world. They adored me, festooned me with praise and titles.

I am the Overlord, ruler of the planet Vithrax.

You killed my mother. Prepare to die.

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Bwah ha ha! Today I took a slightly different approach to my Flash Friday story of 200 (+/-10) words. After joking with friends that the stories that win aren’t usually the humorous ones (like I like to write), but are the dark ones that include abused children, people with horrible illnesses, and/or the end of the world, I vowed to write a story that incorporated all three.

Luckily for me, the prompt lent itself well to that, especially since we had to center our story around the theme of “aspiration”.

The only thing I forgot was a dead kitten.

Anyway, let me know what you think. And yes, The Princess Bride IS my favorite movie of all time.

Flash Friday Fiction: Nature vs. Nurture

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Shipwreck in the desert.
Shipwreck of the United Malika in Cap Blanc, Mauritania. CC photo by Jbdodane.

Nature vs. Nurture – 210 words

Captain’s Log:

We have run aground. The ship’s engines are destroyed. Chaos reigns. Only Captain America, Spiderman, and I are courageous enough to brave the wilderness before us. We set off in search of food, in search of water, in search of safety in this hostile land. Suddenly, a loud rumbling, like the heaviest of thunder, echoes through our ears.

“Thomas!”

An alien. A mind-reading alien. We seek cover, but there is none to be found.

“Thomas Keith Sullivan!”

Augh! The alien controls my brain, reading my innermost thoughts, stealing my identity.

“Tommy, it’s almost bedtime. Time to get out of the bath.”

Mission abort. Mission abort.

The earth shakes as the alien approaches. It flings open the ship’s hatch. We are doomed. No hope for survival.

“Gracious, Thomas, that tub is filthy! I swear there’s more dirt than water in there.”

Resignedly, I relinquish my crew to the clutches of the hostile lifeform before me. But I shall not surrender. A captain goes down with his ship.

“Here’s your towel. Dry off, get your PJs on, and you can have a cookie before bed.”

Alas. The alien’s methods of interrogation have proven too powerful. Tomorrow is a new day. There will be other ships.

And I want a cookie.

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This week’s challenge within our 200 (+/-10) word limit was to include a man vs. nature conflict in conjunction with the photo prompt. I may have veered off more into man vs. alien territory, but I still giggle at my own result. What do you think?

Jetset on over to Flash Friday Fiction to read more creative tales, and perhaps even add one of your own.