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Short Story with a twist! Throw something totally unexpected at me. Don't forget to tag me!
Written by Nicko in portal Flash Fiction

Not Grim At All (a drabble)

The drip-drops from the faucet are steady like the ticktocks of a second-hand.

White porcelain, stained pink beneath flickering flourescents; humming from a bad bulb accompanies a steady rhythm of the drops dripping into the tub.

He is a shadow, cold among rising steam. She can almost see him, but he is blurred beneath her heavy eyelids. She tries speaking, but words are as slippery as her grasp on life in this moment.

Sleep fades away as he takes her hand. She opens her eyes, pleased to find the stories untrue.

There is no scythe, and her journey isn't grim.

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Short Story with a twist! Throw something totally unexpected at me. Don't forget to tag me!
Written by Nicko in portal Flash Fiction
Not Grim At All (a drabble)


The drip-drops from the faucet are steady like the ticktocks of a second-hand.

White porcelain, stained pink beneath flickering flourescents; humming from a bad bulb accompanies a steady rhythm of the drops dripping into the tub.

He is a shadow, cold among rising steam. She can almost see him, but he is blurred beneath her heavy eyelids. She tries speaking, but words are as slippery as her grasp on life in this moment.

Sleep fades away as he takes her hand. She opens her eyes, pleased to find the stories untrue.

There is no scythe, and her journey isn't grim.
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Written by Lynk in portal Flash Fiction

Ahss-4e (Ahold of Shoulder Straps - part 5`)

Im a DRAFT genus. iautodraw-plans/scans. Develop expansions. Hologram schematics instant. I got what gets me by.5-changes_evrything

inside-Zeptortured eyes. Fallopian spread waves/hcr good/bends; then polyline multiple copies layered ever so tight;to_then intercept.transmissions,etc

The fingers of batlike-web sort of delights shaded blue or maybe red, in other crosshairs-satellites iray. Tough blotd & blobs, the extended intention to fatten stretches as two civilizations. two_states. Synchronization.

immerses

-of what we all been awaitin

^^^'sploosh-!'- issaid.

'Shush, quiet sundray (ooks reverse osmosis'

---Oh how did it go?

There it is, dipped in gizmos & paralleling what's been said/abrvd.t about/disintegrating/this thread, & the string to imagination/we do--not anymore need than a glimpse for peculiarly celebrating 3 leveled dreams. Up up u paawake.

'We made it babe'. If shx reads.

(that light out there looks ime)

Still? Std txt. Shx 'where? You?’ Gone?

--‘two-tone typhoon?'--'nowhere,,, Unless i make/you go-to/where you will stay here', there thr....

'wait/L show' let alone a fabulous ^^glow, ending.

now-Wont ... show nomore.

Iforgot two lines ihere,- &made my 1/2 first scribble;-this whole other earth is not

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

falling apart; ‘clumps can; to dust'.

Mars Pakmer thrusts across

‘The particles of sand slipping to the obtuse therometer ends under my tongue. . .wicked bends’ as the story begins/cuts/searching the walls & engineering paths, building graphs in layered molded detail; press-key commands invent myself via system 32 virus/if-then ashShell.dll attached to search that cannot be uninstalled.norfind what its looking 4

 

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Written by Lynk in portal Flash Fiction
Ahss-4e (Ahold of Shoulder Straps - part 5`)
Im a DRAFT genus. iautodraw-plans/scans. Develop expansions. Hologram schematics instant. I got what gets me by.5-changes_evrything

inside-Zeptortured eyes. Fallopian spread waves/hcr good/bends; then polyline multiple copies layered ever so tight;to_then intercept.transmissions,etc

The fingers of batlike-web sort of delights shaded blue or maybe red, in other crosshairs-satellites iray. Tough blotd & blobs, the extended intention to fatten stretches as two civilizations. two_states. Synchronization.

immerses
-of what we all been awaitin

^^^'sploosh-!'- issaid.
'Shush, quiet sundray (ooks reverse osmosis'

---Oh how did it go?

There it is, dipped in gizmos & paralleling what's been said/abrvd.t about/disintegrating/this thread, & the string to imagination/we do--not anymore need than a glimpse for peculiarly celebrating 3 leveled dreams. Up up u paawake.

'We made it babe'. If shx reads.

(that light out there looks ime)

Still? Std txt. Shx 'where? You?’ Gone?
--‘two-tone typhoon?'--'nowhere,,, Unless i make/you go-to/where you will stay here', there thr....

'wait/L show' let alone a fabulous ^^glow, ending.
now-Wont ... show nomore.

Iforgot two lines ihere,- &made my 1/2 first scribble;-this whole other earth is not
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

falling apart; ‘clumps can; to dust'.

Mars Pakmer thrusts across

‘The particles of sand slipping to the obtuse therometer ends under my tongue. . .wicked bends’ as the story begins/cuts/searching the walls & engineering paths, building graphs in layered molded detail; press-key commands invent myself via system 32 virus/if-then ashShell.dll attached to search that cannot be uninstalled.norfind what its looking 4
 
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Short Story with a twist! Throw something totally unexpected at me. Don't forget to tag me!
Written by MegWaters in portal Flash Fiction

Fishing

     The baby wouldn’t stop crying.

     “Why does it do that?” Evelyn asked Mama. “Why doesn’t it ever shut up?”

     “Now, now Evy, don’t talk like that. You know I don’t approve of that kind of language. And by the way, you refer to the baby as he, not it.”

     Evelyn could care less what it was called; all she knew was that it was just one more noise-making annoyance in her life. As if the numerous animal Noisemakers they owned weren’t enough--now the newest, loudest, most irritating one lived inside.

     Evelyn watched as Mama tried to shove the bottle in the baby’s mouth again, but it kept crying. It was one of those uncontrollable, never-ending sobs, more angry than sad.

     Evelyn felt pressure building in her ears and in her brain. She was sure her head would explode if she didn’t get out of the house away from the Noisemaker, and fast.

     Evelyn headed for the kitchen and grabbed her backpack which hung on the wall. She bolted out the back door before Mama even knew she was gone. Not that she ever asked. Mama didn’t care.

     Evelyn walked through the back yard, past the old barn, and followed the semi-worn path through the high grass. The land her family owned extended for acres beyond the farmhouse in every direction. The seven year old girl knew every inch of the property: where the best trees to climb were; where the sweetest strawberries could be picked; where the darkest, most secret hiding places were. One time Mama called the town police because Evelyn had found such a great place to hide that she refused to come out, no matter how many times Mama called her name. That night Papa used his belt on her, explaining that hide-and-seek was not a game for one person.

     After walking for half an hour, Evelyn arrived at her destination: the pond at the very back of their property. She stepped to the water's edge and peered into the murkiness. It smelled bad. Flies swarmed over the surface, which reminded her of seagulls diving into the ocean in search of dinner. She saw that on a television show once.

     Evelyn dropped her backpack on the ground and circled the pond until she found a large fallen branch. She picked it up and returned to the spot where the flies hovered. Slowly, the girl submerged the stick as far as it would go, then started to stir like a witch over a cauldron. The water was opaque, swirling with sediment. It wasn’t long before a tuft of orange and white fur clinging to shredded meat and bone rose to the top.

     It was the feral cat, the Noisemaker that used to hang around the farmhouse--the one that wouldn’t stop mewing.

     Good. It was still here.

@RubyPond

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Short Story with a twist! Throw something totally unexpected at me. Don't forget to tag me!
Written by MegWaters in portal Flash Fiction
Fishing



     The baby wouldn’t stop crying.
     “Why does it do that?” Evelyn asked Mama. “Why doesn’t it ever shut up?”
     “Now, now Evy, don’t talk like that. You know I don’t approve of that kind of language. And by the way, you refer to the baby as he, not it.”
     Evelyn could care less what it was called; all she knew was that it was just one more noise-making annoyance in her life. As if the numerous animal Noisemakers they owned weren’t enough--now the newest, loudest, most irritating one lived inside.
     Evelyn watched as Mama tried to shove the bottle in the baby’s mouth again, but it kept crying. It was one of those uncontrollable, never-ending sobs, more angry than sad.
     Evelyn felt pressure building in her ears and in her brain. She was sure her head would explode if she didn’t get out of the house away from the Noisemaker, and fast.
     Evelyn headed for the kitchen and grabbed her backpack which hung on the wall. She bolted out the back door before Mama even knew she was gone. Not that she ever asked. Mama didn’t care.
     Evelyn walked through the back yard, past the old barn, and followed the semi-worn path through the high grass. The land her family owned extended for acres beyond the farmhouse in every direction. The seven year old girl knew every inch of the property: where the best trees to climb were; where the sweetest strawberries could be picked; where the darkest, most secret hiding places were. One time Mama called the town police because Evelyn had found such a great place to hide that she refused to come out, no matter how many times Mama called her name. That night Papa used his belt on her, explaining that hide-and-seek was not a game for one person.
     After walking for half an hour, Evelyn arrived at her destination: the pond at the very back of their property. She stepped to the water's edge and peered into the murkiness. It smelled bad. Flies swarmed over the surface, which reminded her of seagulls diving into the ocean in search of dinner. She saw that on a television show once.
     Evelyn dropped her backpack on the ground and circled the pond until she found a large fallen branch. She picked it up and returned to the spot where the flies hovered. Slowly, the girl submerged the stick as far as it would go, then started to stir like a witch over a cauldron. The water was opaque, swirling with sediment. It wasn’t long before a tuft of orange and white fur clinging to shredded meat and bone rose to the top.
     It was the feral cat, the Noisemaker that used to hang around the farmhouse--the one that wouldn’t stop mewing.
     Good. It was still here.

@RubyPond

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Written by ShiuliMukherji in portal Flash Fiction

Thus begins a tale

Blurb: There are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though every thing is a miracle.- Albert Einstein.

Prologue: The man puts his toilet kit, shuts the night pack hastily.

The wife, wiping her hands on her nighty, asks, "all set! what about the ticket and passport?"

The man pulls out the ticket; MH370 Kuala lumpur to Beijing. See you honey! would be back soon, checks the clock ticking away, rushes out with a gleam in his eyes....

Chapter 1:

Next morning as he munches on his buttered toast, sipping his coffee, reads the news.

Headlines screams: THE LAST KNOWN POSITION OF MH 370....

239 passengers and crew MISSING.

Joe's hiccups brings his petite girlfriend Carla out of the bedroom.

"Joe dear", cooed Carla near his ears, "how many times do I've to tell you to sip your coffee not gulp it. Hot things....."

Her eyes gaze falls on the headlines, transforming her seductress eyes into owl eyes.

"Isn't this your flight?!?"

Joe, "Was!" sighs!

Carla: "Well " excited "now you can spend few more hours with me without interruptions."

Joe doubtfully, "Few more hours only! what if the plane is still not found, What happens?"

Carla casually dismisses the skepticism, "oh it will be found soon, because my hubby returns today evening."

Joe's hiccups return fervently, "Yeah and he is a boxing champion!"

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Written by ShiuliMukherji in portal Flash Fiction
Thus begins a tale

Blurb: There are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though every thing is a miracle.- Albert Einstein.

Prologue: The man puts his toilet kit, shuts the night pack hastily.
The wife, wiping her hands on her nighty, asks, "all set! what about the ticket and passport?"

The man pulls out the ticket; MH370 Kuala lumpur to Beijing. See you honey! would be back soon, checks the clock ticking away, rushes out with a gleam in his eyes....

Chapter 1:
Next morning as he munches on his buttered toast, sipping his coffee, reads the news.

Headlines screams: THE LAST KNOWN POSITION OF MH 370....
239 passengers and crew MISSING.

Joe's hiccups brings his petite girlfriend Carla out of the bedroom.

"Joe dear", cooed Carla near his ears, "how many times do I've to tell you to sip your coffee not gulp it. Hot things....."
Her eyes gaze falls on the headlines, transforming her seductress eyes into owl eyes.
"Isn't this your flight?!?"
Joe, "Was!" sighs!

Carla: "Well " excited "now you can spend few more hours with me without interruptions."
Joe doubtfully, "Few more hours only! what if the plane is still not found, What happens?"
Carla casually dismisses the skepticism, "oh it will be found soon, because my hubby returns today evening."

Joe's hiccups return fervently, "Yeah and he is a boxing champion!"

#fiction  #romance  #adventure  #inklingsagency  #simonbooks 
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Short Story with a twist! Throw something totally unexpected at me. Don't forget to tag me!
Written by sandflea68 in portal Flash Fiction

The Surprise Was All Mine

I was so excited to be meeting my best girlfriend whom I hadn’t seen for a few years, at the airport. I knew we had a lot to catch up on but I was shocked when I saw her carrying a small girl in her arms. There would be time for questions when we got back to my home so I didn’t ask the circumstances of her child. And I have to admit that I was a little bit jealous because my husband, Theo, and I had been trying to have a baby for a very long time. Theo was on a business trip so this was the perfect time to enjoy visiting with my friend.

After I had shown her to her room and she had freshened up, she joined me on the back porch for a glass of lemonade and milk and cookies for little Teddie Ann. We started with small talk but I was dying to ask about her child.

Finally, I asked, “Who is Teddie Ann’s father? Did you get married or divorced? I’m not making judgment calls, you understand. I’m just glad you have such a beautiful little girl.”

And the child was gorgeous with long black curls and blue eyes with dark lashes. I really wished she were mine. I quietly wiped away a tear.

“Will you get me a Kleenex out of my purse,” my friend, Jan, asked her little girl in order to get her out of the room. “This child is a love child but it didn’t work out and he decided not to leave his wife,” she said sorrowfully.

That night, something began eating away at the back of my mind. “Why did Teddie Ann look so familiar? Did I know her father?” All of a sudden, I glanced at a picture of my husband. He was so handsome in his navy suit with his black hair and brilliant blue eyes. All of a sudden, it dawned on me that Teddie Ann was his. No wonder Jan had left so quickly several years ago.

The next day, I went down to the basement where Jan was washing her clothes. I picked up a short piece of clothesline and tightened it around her neck until she wasn’t breathing. I grabbed a shovel and began digging a hole in the floor where I buried her. Next, I called a tradesman to put in a new basement floor. I would tell Theo that I had adopted this child when he came home from his trip, knowing he would be thrilled to be a father.

Next, I went up to Jan’s bedroom and began taking her belongings out of her suitcase to get rid of them. There in the bottom was an envelope with ‘birth certificate’ written on it. Imagine my horror, when I saw the name of the father. It wasn’t my husband!

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Short Story with a twist! Throw something totally unexpected at me. Don't forget to tag me!
Written by sandflea68 in portal Flash Fiction
The Surprise Was All Mine
I was so excited to be meeting my best girlfriend whom I hadn’t seen for a few years, at the airport. I knew we had a lot to catch up on but I was shocked when I saw her carrying a small girl in her arms. There would be time for questions when we got back to my home so I didn’t ask the circumstances of her child. And I have to admit that I was a little bit jealous because my husband, Theo, and I had been trying to have a baby for a very long time. Theo was on a business trip so this was the perfect time to enjoy visiting with my friend.

After I had shown her to her room and she had freshened up, she joined me on the back porch for a glass of lemonade and milk and cookies for little Teddie Ann. We started with small talk but I was dying to ask about her child.

Finally, I asked, “Who is Teddie Ann’s father? Did you get married or divorced? I’m not making judgment calls, you understand. I’m just glad you have such a beautiful little girl.”

And the child was gorgeous with long black curls and blue eyes with dark lashes. I really wished she were mine. I quietly wiped away a tear.

“Will you get me a Kleenex out of my purse,” my friend, Jan, asked her little girl in order to get her out of the room. “This child is a love child but it didn’t work out and he decided not to leave his wife,” she said sorrowfully.

That night, something began eating away at the back of my mind. “Why did Teddie Ann look so familiar? Did I know her father?” All of a sudden, I glanced at a picture of my husband. He was so handsome in his navy suit with his black hair and brilliant blue eyes. All of a sudden, it dawned on me that Teddie Ann was his. No wonder Jan had left so quickly several years ago.

The next day, I went down to the basement where Jan was washing her clothes. I picked up a short piece of clothesline and tightened it around her neck until she wasn’t breathing. I grabbed a shovel and began digging a hole in the floor where I buried her. Next, I called a tradesman to put in a new basement floor. I would tell Theo that I had adopted this child when he came home from his trip, knowing he would be thrilled to be a father.

Next, I went up to Jan’s bedroom and began taking her belongings out of her suitcase to get rid of them. There in the bottom was an envelope with ‘birth certificate’ written on it. Imagine my horror, when I saw the name of the father. It wasn’t my husband!
#challenge  #StoryWithTwist  #WhosTheDaddy 
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Short Story with a twist! Throw something totally unexpected at me. Don't forget to tag me!
Written by Firdaus in portal Flash Fiction

Almost dead

I was just getting worse, and worse. I realised this, because I felt the glass-like wall getting thicker and slightly blurry. I could still see myself hooked up to the medical equipments. Doctors and nurses were fiddling with my body.

Was I dying? Nooo...but I guess I was.

"Come on. You can pull through," I shouted at my body, "it's not our time yet, fight!" Of course no one could hear me.

Like a caged animal I paced restlessly, banging my fists on the wall.

So this was it. This was how one died.

The place I was in felt like vacuum. The wall between the living and the 'not so living' seemed to thicken every few minutes, or was it hours. I couldn't keep track of time. I tried desperately to find an exit, but there was none.

Moving along the wall, my hands tracing the smooth glassy surface, I found myself outside the hospital. I spotted my wife sitting alone on a bench, her soft brown hair falling over her face as she leaned forward on her elbows. She looked so forlorn. I wanted to break through the wall and hold her, comfort her.

Oh, how I missed her already.

The wall was getting more blurry now. The glass was thickening fast. I rushed back to the hospital room and saw myself being given electric shocks, my body arching with the impact.

Suddenly, the wall just melted away and I felt myself propelled towards my body.

Then, nothing.

The next thing I knew, I was looking into two magnified eyes behind thick rimmed glasses.

I heard my wife's voice, "Doctor, is he going to be okay?"

Why did I sense fear in her voice.

"Yes," the man peering down into my eyes replied, "he's a lucky man. That was a nasty fall."

I blinked my eyes to focus, my mouth dry.

"Oh," she said, and I heard a mixture of apprehension and disappointment in that one syllable.

Then, I remembered, she had pushed me down the stairs.

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Short Story with a twist! Throw something totally unexpected at me. Don't forget to tag me!
Written by Firdaus in portal Flash Fiction
Almost dead
I was just getting worse, and worse. I realised this, because I felt the glass-like wall getting thicker and slightly blurry. I could still see myself hooked up to the medical equipments. Doctors and nurses were fiddling with my body.

Was I dying? Nooo...but I guess I was.

"Come on. You can pull through," I shouted at my body, "it's not our time yet, fight!" Of course no one could hear me.

Like a caged animal I paced restlessly, banging my fists on the wall.

So this was it. This was how one died.

The place I was in felt like vacuum. The wall between the living and the 'not so living' seemed to thicken every few minutes, or was it hours. I couldn't keep track of time. I tried desperately to find an exit, but there was none.

Moving along the wall, my hands tracing the smooth glassy surface, I found myself outside the hospital. I spotted my wife sitting alone on a bench, her soft brown hair falling over her face as she leaned forward on her elbows. She looked so forlorn. I wanted to break through the wall and hold her, comfort her.

Oh, how I missed her already.

The wall was getting more blurry now. The glass was thickening fast. I rushed back to the hospital room and saw myself being given electric shocks, my body arching with the impact.

Suddenly, the wall just melted away and I felt myself propelled towards my body.

Then, nothing.

The next thing I knew, I was looking into two magnified eyes behind thick rimmed glasses.

I heard my wife's voice, "Doctor, is he going to be okay?"

Why did I sense fear in her voice.

"Yes," the man peering down into my eyes replied, "he's a lucky man. That was a nasty fall."

I blinked my eyes to focus, my mouth dry.

"Oh," she said, and I heard a mixture of apprehension and disappointment in that one syllable.

Then, I remembered, she had pushed me down the stairs.
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Short Story with a twist! Throw something totally unexpected at me. Don't forget to tag me!
Written by Jumotki in portal Flash Fiction

Summer Camp

“We have a monster outside the camp,” Anderson says.

We all lean forward on our logs. The fire throws an orange glow on a semicircle of campers and camp counselors.

“They say you can see its light flickering through the trees—waiting. If it finds you, it'll grab you. Run its feelers all over your face. And then drag you, screaming, into the trees.”

Somebody—probably Paul, because he’s dumb—squeaks like a mouse.

“They say it looks like an enormous, monstrously huuuge—”

We all hold our breath.

“—lightening bug.”

Silence. Breaths let out like deflated balloons.

Next to me, Grant snorts.

Mr. Anderson looks around the camp expectantly.

“So, everyone, I urge you all to stay in your cabins at night. Do not stray from the safety of the camp perimeters. Follow not in the footsteps of foolish Frankie, who left his cabin last year and was never seen again.”

Paul, that snot-face, raises his hand timidly.

“What happened to him?”

“He was never seen again,” says Anderson. “Let that be a warning to all: do not stray into the dark. Do not tempt the monster.”

So of course Grant and I stay up, hours after lights-out and after everyone finished laughing about the scary camp bug monster and lay snoring in their bunks. On our way out we discover Paul, wide-eyed and shaking under his sheets. We briefly discuss whether to tie him up or kill him, but end up taking him along, marching him between us with my hand over his mouth. A wet stain drenches the crotch of his pajama bottoms.

The sky is inky black, lit by clouds burned white as they touch the moon, and there’s a deafening sound of crickets and frogs all around us. Paul sobs into my hand, now wet with spit and tears, and walks without seeing. We reach the woods at the outskirts of camp. 

Here it's daylight with every space lit up with fireflies.

We stand there, looking at the flickering yellow lights. I’ve never in my life seen so many.

There’s a rustling in the trees and Paul shrieks. Grant shoves Paul towards the source of the sound.

Before us emerges a strange figure.

“You boys shouldn't be out here at night,” says a growly voice. “It’s not safe.”

“Anderson,” Grant says. “We know it’s you in a bug suit.”

Paul starts crying again. He runs forward and hugs the bug, which pushes him away.

Anderson’s paunchy body is squeezed into something puffy and misshapen with wings, feelers, and dragging lightbulb butt.

The fireflies, shining bright as exit lights in a movie theater, wink out as one and disappear, leaving us in a darker night.

Anderson speaks once more.

“Leave now or—”

Something huge, as large as the trees, breaks from the black woods and takes Anderson. His screams follow us as we run as fast as we can back to the cabins. 

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Short Story with a twist! Throw something totally unexpected at me. Don't forget to tag me!
Written by Jumotki in portal Flash Fiction
Summer Camp
“We have a monster outside the camp,” Anderson says.
We all lean forward on our logs. The fire throws an orange glow on a semicircle of campers and camp counselors.
“They say you can see its light flickering through the trees—waiting. If it finds you, it'll grab you. Run its feelers all over your face. And then drag you, screaming, into the trees.”
Somebody—probably Paul, because he’s dumb—squeaks like a mouse.
“They say it looks like an enormous, monstrously huuuge—”
We all hold our breath.
“—lightening bug.”
Silence. Breaths let out like deflated balloons.
Next to me, Grant snorts.
Mr. Anderson looks around the camp expectantly.
“So, everyone, I urge you all to stay in your cabins at night. Do not stray from the safety of the camp perimeters. Follow not in the footsteps of foolish Frankie, who left his cabin last year and was never seen again.”
Paul, that snot-face, raises his hand timidly.
“What happened to him?”
“He was never seen again,” says Anderson. “Let that be a warning to all: do not stray into the dark. Do not tempt the monster.”

So of course Grant and I stay up, hours after lights-out and after everyone finished laughing about the scary camp bug monster and lay snoring in their bunks. On our way out we discover Paul, wide-eyed and shaking under his sheets. We briefly discuss whether to tie him up or kill him, but end up taking him along, marching him between us with my hand over his mouth. A wet stain drenches the crotch of his pajama bottoms.
The sky is inky black, lit by clouds burned white as they touch the moon, and there’s a deafening sound of crickets and frogs all around us. Paul sobs into my hand, now wet with spit and tears, and walks without seeing. We reach the woods at the outskirts of camp. 
Here it's daylight with every space lit up with fireflies.
We stand there, looking at the flickering yellow lights. I’ve never in my life seen so many.
There’s a rustling in the trees and Paul shrieks. Grant shoves Paul towards the source of the sound.
Before us emerges a strange figure.
“You boys shouldn't be out here at night,” says a growly voice. “It’s not safe.”
“Anderson,” Grant says. “We know it’s you in a bug suit.”
Paul starts crying again. He runs forward and hugs the bug, which pushes him away.
Anderson’s paunchy body is squeezed into something puffy and misshapen with wings, feelers, and dragging lightbulb butt.
The fireflies, shining bright as exit lights in a movie theater, wink out as one and disappear, leaving us in a darker night.
Anderson speaks once more.
“Leave now or—”
Something huge, as large as the trees, breaks from the black woods and takes Anderson. His screams follow us as we run as fast as we can back to the cabins. 
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Written by Firdaus in portal Flash Fiction

Amma

She had a stoop, stained crooked teeth (or what was left of them), and the gift of spinning stories that could hook you for hours. And that was exactly what my brother and I did –listen mesmerised.

We would sneak to her shabby hut behind our house. Dimly lit by an open flame of a kerosene lamp, the walls would be covered with eerie shadows. There was always the smell of smoke from the hearth and scent of incense sticks.

She would hand us a biscuit each, and sit on her low cot, while we sat cross-legged on a mat. She would take her time, cough to clear her throat, stuff her cheek with a paan and then begin.

I would hold my brothers hand, my six-year old heart thudding excitedly, his eyes round in anticipation. Then her voice would usher in ogres, fairies, witches and djins, and time would stand still.

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Written by Firdaus in portal Flash Fiction
Amma
She had a stoop, stained crooked teeth (or what was left of them), and the gift of spinning stories that could hook you for hours. And that was exactly what my brother and I did –listen mesmerised.
We would sneak to her shabby hut behind our house. Dimly lit by an open flame of a kerosene lamp, the walls would be covered with eerie shadows. There was always the smell of smoke from the hearth and scent of incense sticks.
She would hand us a biscuit each, and sit on her low cot, while we sat cross-legged on a mat. She would take her time, cough to clear her throat, stuff her cheek with a paan and then begin.
I would hold my brothers hand, my six-year old heart thudding excitedly, his eyes round in anticipation. Then her voice would usher in ogres, fairies, witches and djins, and time would stand still.
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Short Story with a twist! Throw something totally unexpected at me. Don't forget to tag me!
Written by AlSalehi in portal Flash Fiction

Tomb of the Unknown Soldier

Remember me, for I am, no longer.

Pray for me, for no one knows,

what to expect.

Salute me, for I was a soldier,

that died for a cause.

Judge the outcome without bias,

for my visions,

were based upon reflections,

from broken mirrors.

Cherish your time,

for it is a limited privilege,

which I may have affected.

But,

things are different now.

I no longer belong to anyone,

or to anything.

I am not a player,

nor can I be played.

I never truly had

the clearance to know why I did

what I did…

but if its aftermath hurt the innocent,

please extend my apologies,

for my actions were not meant,

to scar civilians.

Should the words of my tombstone,

one day enter and evolve your world…

Know,

that

things are different now.

I was a War hero,

a patriot,

who fought for peace.

I was placed on a field,

a pawn,

someone else’s piece.

Honor me, and remember me;

For one day,

things will be different,

for you, as well.*

* But do not spit,

upon my memorial,

merely because,

I fought,

for the other side.

Copyright © 1986-2017

Al Salehi

All Rights Reserved

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Short Story with a twist! Throw something totally unexpected at me. Don't forget to tag me!
Written by AlSalehi in portal Flash Fiction
Tomb of the Unknown Soldier
Remember me, for I am, no longer.
Pray for me, for no one knows,
what to expect.
Salute me, for I was a soldier,
that died for a cause.
Judge the outcome without bias,
for my visions,
were based upon reflections,
from broken mirrors.
Cherish your time,
for it is a limited privilege,
which I may have affected.

But,
things are different now.

I no longer belong to anyone,
or to anything.
I am not a player,
nor can I be played.
I never truly had
the clearance to know why I did
what I did…
but if its aftermath hurt the innocent,
please extend my apologies,
for my actions were not meant,
to scar civilians.
Should the words of my tombstone,
one day enter and evolve your world…

Know,
that
things are different now.

I was a War hero,
a patriot,
who fought for peace.
I was placed on a field,
a pawn,
someone else’s piece.

Honor me, and remember me;
For one day,
things will be different,
for you, as well.*


* But do not spit,
upon my memorial,
merely because,
I fought,


for the other side.








Copyright © 1986-2017
Al Salehi
All Rights Reserved
#fiction  #horror  #poetry  #philosophy  #mystery  #challenge  #futilityofwar 
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Short Story with a twist! Throw something totally unexpected at me. Don't forget to tag me!
Written by MikeRich15 in portal Flash Fiction

To fight monsters

They came, like all monstrous things, in the night. Tore through the valley, shredding fully grown trees into dirty brown pulp. My father woke me, his face pallid and ashen as he shoved a rifle into my hands.

"Get your sisters, I'll get your mother".

I didn't need to ask him what was wrong, for I could hear murderous wailing while those things ripped our neighbours apart. The same sounds that had plagued my dreams those many sleepless nights. I caught glimpses of shadowed masses outside as I ran past the hallway window. I burst through the bedroom door and scooped both of my sisters out of bed, their tiny bodies frozen in a paralyzing fear. I wanted to sit them down, stroke their hair and tell them everything was going to be okay, but there was no time.

No time.

My Mother and Father were waiting by the back door, and I looked at my Father's sunken face. He raised a gnarled finger to his lips, and we all understood: silence was our only chance. My Father and I quickly checked our guns while my Mother and sisters silently put their boots and jackets on. Then we heard a window smash upatairs, a demonic growling that shook the floorboards: we were out of time.

With my Father in front and me at the rear, we ran outside into the chaos. The black sky behind us was awash in an eerie orange glow, and I knew in an instant that the town was being burned down to the ground. Our people were fighting back, trying to purge the terror in a fiery blaze. If only we could warn them, tell them how futile their efforts were.

Our family managed to reach the forest high above the town, and for a moment I dared to hope. Maybe, just maybe, we had done it this time. I glanced over at my Father, our eyes meeting and a slight smirk dawning on his face. I smiled then too, for perhaps the last time in my life.

When I saw my Father reach for his gun, I knew. I knew before I heard them. I knew before I turned around and saw them. Their thirst had yet to be quenched on this night.

Then many sounds filled the air. Two gun shots, one for each of my Mother's legs. Her anguished screams. My sister's stifled cries as I covered their mouths.

"Please, please, it has to be this way" I said through my own sobbing, more to comfort myself than the two precious girls I held in my arms. We ran, through the forests and over the mountains, away from the death and on to a new life. 

To start again.

12
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Short Story with a twist! Throw something totally unexpected at me. Don't forget to tag me!
Written by MikeRich15 in portal Flash Fiction
To fight monsters
They came, like all monstrous things, in the night. Tore through the valley, shredding fully grown trees into dirty brown pulp. My father woke me, his face pallid and ashen as he shoved a rifle into my hands.

"Get your sisters, I'll get your mother".

I didn't need to ask him what was wrong, for I could hear murderous wailing while those things ripped our neighbours apart. The same sounds that had plagued my dreams those many sleepless nights. I caught glimpses of shadowed masses outside as I ran past the hallway window. I burst through the bedroom door and scooped both of my sisters out of bed, their tiny bodies frozen in a paralyzing fear. I wanted to sit them down, stroke their hair and tell them everything was going to be okay, but there was no time.

No time.

My Mother and Father were waiting by the back door, and I looked at my Father's sunken face. He raised a gnarled finger to his lips, and we all understood: silence was our only chance. My Father and I quickly checked our guns while my Mother and sisters silently put their boots and jackets on. Then we heard a window smash upatairs, a demonic growling that shook the floorboards: we were out of time.

With my Father in front and me at the rear, we ran outside into the chaos. The black sky behind us was awash in an eerie orange glow, and I knew in an instant that the town was being burned down to the ground. Our people were fighting back, trying to purge the terror in a fiery blaze. If only we could warn them, tell them how futile their efforts were.

Our family managed to reach the forest high above the town, and for a moment I dared to hope. Maybe, just maybe, we had done it this time. I glanced over at my Father, our eyes meeting and a slight smirk dawning on his face. I smiled then too, for perhaps the last time in my life.

When I saw my Father reach for his gun, I knew. I knew before I heard them. I knew before I turned around and saw them. Their thirst had yet to be quenched on this night.

Then many sounds filled the air. Two gun shots, one for each of my Mother's legs. Her anguished screams. My sister's stifled cries as I covered their mouths.

"Please, please, it has to be this way" I said through my own sobbing, more to comfort myself than the two precious girls I held in my arms. We ran, through the forests and over the mountains, away from the death and on to a new life. 

To start again.
12
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12
Juice
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