Tag Archives: flash fiction

Autonomous

vw-in-israel-wmq

PHOTO PROMPT © Kent Bonham

A car pulled up behind me as I was stopped at a traffic light.  I didn’t often see a VW, so I studied it in my mirror.  To my shock, there was no driver.  When the light turned, it started off, just like normal.

Hitting a busy area, the car accelerated, moving into the oncoming traffic.

Thinking only by reflex, I rammed into the car as it passed.  The impact pushed me into a parked car and my world went black.

I was later told that if I hadn’t stopped it, the autonomous self-driven car-bomb would have killed dozens.

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Ancient Magic

janet-webb-french-still-life

PHOTO PROMPT © Janet Webb

I had collected it all, quicksilver lightning captured in a jar and a candle made of the wax from Cleopatra’s bees.  Only the purest color yellow distilled from the sunlight in my window would do.  The bit of our star must illuminate a painting representing my heart’s desire.

“Why don’t you do it the old-fashioned way?”

I jumped.  I hadn’t heard Mom come in.

“What?”

“Just talk to her.  Girls like that, you know.”

“But Mom, the ancient magic spell will ensure it.”

“I’m sorry, the magic she used is much older than that.”  Mom winked.

I’ll never understand girls.

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Word count = 100

Friday Fictioneers is hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.  This week’s prompt is here and uses a photo provided by © Janet Webb.  Read more or join in by following the InLinkz “linky“.

What Goes Down

Fast as Light Mind

“Give it up, Ray.  We’ve looked at this a million times.  We see him entering.”  Jorge pointed to a figure on a screen.  “It matches perfectly.  We’re even sure that he has the gun.  This is the assassin.  We’re sure.  But he never left.  I think he got through the electrical closet and used the utility tunnel.  He had to have a key, so an employee.  A maintenance worker, perhaps?”

Ray stayed glued to the screen showing more security video.  “Stop,” he said.  “Him.  Right there.”  He pointed to a man on the screen.  “He never entered the building.”

“Oh, come on,” Jorge said.  “This guy is a good three inches shorter than the perp.  Different hair.  No mustache.  Walking different.  It’s all wrong.” Continue reading

Efficiency – Friday Fictioneers

claire-sheldon

PHOTO PROMPT © Claire Sheldon

I had been doing it for twenty-five years and was an expert.  File comes in, take the staple out, highlight the pertinent data, send it to the accountant.  I no longer answered phones.  The accountants liked to do it themselves.  They’ve done their own typing since the late 1990s.  With the new tools, it was more efficient.

The boss came in, fumbled with my stuffed toys and accidentally spilled the cup full of used staples.

“I’m sorry Sue,” he finally said.  “The new system is set up and everything is 100% electronic.”

“I’m so efficient, though.”

“Not to a computer.”

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My Two Cents

ted-struts-in-the-rain

PHOTO PROMPT © Ted Strutz

It was raining, like all of the tears at all of the funerals in the world.  I wouldn’t have minded, but the queue was long.  Not that I worried about getting aboard, of course not, but I was miserable waiting.

Finally, I was there.  Those in front of me just walked on board when their turn came, but I stopped and looked at the ticket taker.  I held out my hand and his eyes sparkled.  I dropped the two pennies into his waiting palm.  The coins turned to gold.  I knew my afterlife would be good.

Always pay the ferryman.

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Word count = 100

Friday Fictioneers is hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.  This week’s prompt is here and uses a photo provided by © Ted Strutz.  Read more or join in by following the InLinkz “linky“.

I clicked “Publish on my last story and almost instantly regretted it.  I had a new idea, a much better (in my mind) idea.  I had to write this.  I hope you don’t mind that I double-dipped this week.

The Last Ferry

ted-struts-in-the-rain

PHOTO PROMPT © Ted Strutz

Sean looked over his shoulder.

Just behind them, the soldiers pushed back the wet and wary crowds.  The wall was near and closing, causing a panic.

“Are we going to make it?” Jasmine asked.

Before he could answer, a guard waved them through.

They’d get on, but it would be tight.

The car parked, Sean and Jasmine went to the observation deck.  They heard guns firing, then yelling.  The guards had been overrun.  People were racing to the ferry.

The mighty ship lurched forward violently.

Sean looked out, watching in horror as the flames ate all.

They had made it.

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Word count = 100

Friday Fictioneers is hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.  This week’s prompt is here and uses a photo provided by © Ted Strutz.  Read more or join in by following the InLinkz “linky“.

Moonlight Palms

dale-rogerson4

PHOTO PROMPT © Dale Rogerson

The tranquil night was shattered by the screams.  The guests awoke to darkness, a clue that the electricity to the resort was cut.

Flashlights came on, emergency vehicles crowded the streets.  The search was on.  A hint of terror could kill the tourist trade.

I slunk between darkened buildings, staying out of the light.  If I could make it to morning, it would be fine.  At least for me.

I knew what they’d find.  I knew the horror of the mutilated bodies.  But I couldn’t shed a tear.  Not until the full moon set and I was back to normal.

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Creativity Interrupted

PHOTO PROMPT © Sarah Potter

Meg sat at the writing desk, looking for an idea.

There was a seed.  Then a sprout.  Vines came up, tendrils.  A branch, another storyline.

The vines grew, covering the desk.  They bloomed in multicolored fractals, ideas within ideas.  A new sprout.  It continued to grow and grow, occupying every corner of the room.

The ideas came faster than words, budding, twisting, branching, filling all with their presence, growing…

“Dear?”  Meg turned to her husband.  “You looked bored.  Do you need some company?”

“No,” she said.

The room was bare.

Meg sat at the writing desk, looking for an idea.

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Word count = 100

Friday Fictioneers is hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.  This week’s prompt is here and uses a photo provided by © Sarah Potter.  Read more or join in by following the InLinkz “linky“.

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OK, this is a second helping.  This screamed to have a non-literal interpretation, so…  Like the other story, this one has a moral – don’t disturb me when I’m writing, even if it just looks like I’m staring out of the window ;)

 

Wings – #writephoto

corvids

Photo by Sue Vincent

“A group of crows is called a murder, who know.”

Melanie had an odd glint in her eye as she watched the large flock swirl around us.  The big black birds were gibbering, as if speaking to each other in their own secret language.

“Yes, I’ve heard that,” I said.  “Do they know something that we don’t?”

Melanie laughed.  “Of course they do.  Can’t you hear them whisper their threats and spells?”

“Whisper?  That racket is anything but whispering.”

She just smiled at me. Continue reading

Treasured Plants

sp-overgrown-summer-house

PHOTO PROMPT © Sarah Potter

I climbed out of the hidden valley, jealously guarding my treasures.  The never explored land, a natural Shangri-La separated from the rest of the planet for millions of years by a ring of mountains, was the most beautiful place imaginable.  I had taken clippings and seeds of some of those botanical gems to share with the world.

That was years ago, before I learned how successful these plants would take to their new environment.

Today, as I look out into the weed choked place that was once a large city, I wonder how I ever thought these plants “beautiful”.

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