Archive for August, 2013

Flickering orange light and the roar of a train pulled her from her slumber. Sitting up, she gaped at the eerie glow dancing over her walls and sprung to her feet. She stared, watching in horror as flames engulfed the neighbor’s house. Flames crept through windows to crawl up the siding as Tim’s terrified face appeared in an upstairs window.

Grabbing the phone, she pushed 9 and 1, her fingers freezing before pressing the second 1. Her stomach turned as she remembered stumbling upon young Tim in the woods, years earlier. He hadn’t heard her approach and she hid behind a tree meaning to scare him. Instead, she watched in horror as he doused a puppy with lighter fluid and set him ablaze. The next summer he cornered her in the park, asking if she had “ever seen a match burn twice.” He ignited a match, blew it out held the hot tip on her arm. He did it twice more before she wiggled free and ran home. Her parents passed it off as kids being kids and warned her not to play with him again.

Over the years she had seen him hurt school mates and pets. His parents offered explanations for the untimely deaths of his pets and life went on. In the spring of 1998 his prom date ended up in the hospital. She claimed she was beaten, raped and left for dead on the tennis court. When questioned, by the police, Tim passed with flying colors. His date either didn’t remember, or was too afraid to name him. She moved away after graduation and never returned. He went out late at night, she had seen him, always dressed in black. The next day he could be found in his drive, detailing his car.

As she watched the house burn, her mind returned to 2001. It was a warm spring night when she saw Tim and a date arrive at his house. When  the girl hesitated he grabbed her by the hair and dragged her into the garage, where her screaming stopped. She called 911, but a quick search of the house didn’t turn up a girl or anything else out-of-place. The police treated her like a nosy neighbor. She realized Tim had abandoned humanity, feelings. love, right and wrong years ago.

He was an animal, a predator who found joy in inflicting pain. How many died? How many more would die?  Turning her back to the flames, she returned the phone to the charger, letting the flames make the final judgement.

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Submit a story or poem, inspired by a weekly photo in this fun, flash fiction group. You can read submissions or add your work HERE.  Comments welcome, as long as they are respectful and helpful, not hateful.

i used this pix to show that emotion doesn’t change. War and reunions are as old as time.

Historic Fiction

Words: A bit over 99

Rating: PG

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 Copyright – Dawn M. Miller

She ran, her bustle slapping her ankles.

“When is the troop train due?” She yelled over the counter.

“What?” The elderly attendant yelled.

“The troop train!”

“That’s it now!” he shouted.

Rushing to the platform, she studied the car doors, taking in every face. Wives hugged husbands and mothers clung to sons. She had no idea if he was on this train, but hope ran high.

When he emerged, pale and weak, she cried. Would he be the same?

Friday Fictioneers 8/23

Posted: August 24, 2013 in Uncategorized

Submit a story or poem, inspired by a weekly photo in this fun, flash fiction group. You can read submissions or add your work HERE.  Comments welcome, as long as they are respectful and helpful, not hateful.

Category: Drama

Words: 100

Rating: PG

church_and_tree-claire-fullerCopyright Clair Fuller

Her first thought was that the building looked as dead as the tree. Stepping to the walk she paid the cabbie and made her way to the door, wondering why grandpa left her a crumbling mess.  Was it some kind of lesson? Dust scurried aside as she made her way inside. When her eyes adjusted to the gloom she noticed the envelope. A crisp, white envelope, untouched by age, and tore it open.

“Ms. Timmons;

Contracts ready, signature needed. Check for 1.9 million dollars, for purchase of your property at 505 Prospect ave. cleared for release. Stop by at your convenience.

She fainted,

Submit a story or poem, inspired by a weekly photo in this fun, flash fiction group. You can read submissions or add your work HERE.  Comments welcome, as long as they are respectful and helpful, not hateful.

Category: Drama/Family

Words: 100

Rating: PG

Copyright - Roger Bultot

Copyright – Roger Bultot

“I hate you!” She shouted, following her dad down the stairs.

“Sorry to hear that, I love you!” He shouted back. “And you’re grounded, so stay home!”

“I wish you were dead!” she screamed from the porch as he opened the car door.

She barely registered the noise when it hit. The tornado snatched at random, a roof here, a house there. She died inside as she approached the car, fearing the worst. She was crying, tearing at the branches when she heard it.

“Down here Baby Girl, I’m o.k.”

She loved him.

Picture it & Write 8/10/13

Posted: August 11, 2013 in Uncategorized

 Picture it & Write is a fun, flash fiction group that meets weekly. Craft a story based on a photo prompt. Keep it short.  Read the stories or submit your own HERE.

 

Disclaimer: The story could be disturbing to youngsters or abused women. It touches on rape.

 

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The incessant cawing invaded her dreams, Psychopomps her grandma had called them, birds sent to drag your soul to hell. She woke in a cold sweat more than she cared to admit, wondering what she could have done to merit losing her soul to the winged harbingers of doom.

When morning broke she stumbled to the inn’s ancient dining room for coffee. An elderly woman filled her with coffee and honey drenched biscuits before guiding her outside. Her taxi was waiting, or in this case, a wooden, horse-drawn buggy. Her assignment was to take pictures of a woman living off the grid, with no phone, electricity or other modern amenities. The story had grabbed her editor’s attention, so here she was. Her bottom bounced over the wooden seat until the driver stopped, pointing out an overgrown dirt path. Dropping to the ground she stretched and grabbed her gear, waiting for guidance, but the man spurred his horse to action and headed for town. With a sigh she started down the path.

It was a pleasant day, but she would feel better if she knew how far she had to walk.  The first time she heard the noise, she marveled over how much wildlife must be hidden in the brush, but after covering at least a mile, she realized the noise was following her. Looking over her shoulder she quickened her pace, but the footsteps quickened with her. She broke into a run, but never saw him coming as he sprung from the weeds. He threw an arm around her neck and pulled her to the ground.

“Don’t move,” he whispered, “We’ll have some fun and you will be on your way.” He cooed.

Her bag slipped to the ground and instinct forced her to reach for it, that was when her hand found the rock.  Her trembling fingers closed over it and brought it down on his head with a force she didn’t know she had.

He rolled to the right, his shocked eyes full of disbelief as the birds descended to drag him away.  They hadn’t come for her, the dreams stopped.

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Submit a story or poem, inspired by a weekly photo in this fun, flash fiction group. You can read submissions or add your work HERE.  Comments welcome, as long as they are respectful and helpful, not hateful.

Category: Sci-fi/Romance

Words: 100

Rating: PG

Copyright-Renee Heath

Copyright-Renee Heath

She had been dancing on a balcony when the wall collapsed. Icy wind stung her limbs as she fell screaming, unwilling to die.  Her dress billowed around her hips and a warm sun caressed her face as her feet touched the pavement.

It was a different street, different town, different time, but it was familiar.  It was as if someone plucked her memories to create a new reality. Then she saw him, dead, gone from her life for three years, and she didn’t care if it was heaven, hell or a dream, she was where she wanted to be. With him.

 

Submit a story or poem, inspired by a weekly photo in this fun, flash fiction group. You can read submissions or add your work HERE.  Comments welcome, as long as they are respectful and helpful, not hateful.

Category: Sci-fi

Words: 100

Rating: PG

Copyright – Jennifer Pendergast

Buzzing woke her, confusion greeted her. She was picking berries when the stinging rain came, now she was on her back. Looking left she gasped when she noticed the giant bee, Hearing her ringtone she ran through the overgrowth, tracking the sound until she bumped into a giant black box. Her phone had to be in there. Unable to find an opening she climbed on top, jumping when her background picture sprung to life.

Horror undulated down her spine when she realized she was standing on her phone, as big as a truck, and she was the freak.