Posts Tagged Flash fiction
Flash Fiction: Unknown Title
Posted by DLThurston in Flash Fiction on April 27, 2012
This week’s Chuck Wendig challenge is to click this link, which will generate five random military operation names, then to use one as the title of a story. As I write this introduction, I’ve yet to hit that link. Here we go, the results are:
Merciless Demon
Combusting Kafir
Wild Saber
Unindulgent Ogre
Cowboy Griffin
Wow. Um. So here we go I guess. I’ve decided to cheat and use two. If you like this or my other flash fiction stories, I have a longer story in the upcoming Memory Eater anthology, currently seeking funds on Kickstarter. Read the rest of this entry »
Flash Fiction Week: Among The Trees
Posted by DLThurston in Flash Fiction on March 30, 2012
Deep breath, and exhale. Welcome to day five of my five-day Flash Fiction week. The last item on Chuck Wendig’s list of settings is a Fairy Tale Forest. Of course, it’s Friday again, which means he has another challenge up. Because he’s a sick twisted bastard that way.
No, you needn’t write fiction in which you lie to yourself, but you must write fiction in which the characters lie to one another. The deception is the thing, you see? Every story thrives on conflict same as yeast thrives on sugar and bears thrive on honey (provided it was first stuffed in the chest cavity of a fleeing park ranger). Your task today is to make the core conflict of the story based upon or orbiting around a terrible lie.
Alright. Fairy Tale Forest. A lie that drives the story. Let’s journey Among the Trees.
Day One: First Times
Day Two: Ride the Time Vortex
Day Three: Finding a Way
Day Four: Above it All
Flash Fiction Week: Above it All
Posted by DLThurston in Flash Fiction on March 29, 2012
Today’s challenge location takes us to a penthouse apartment overlooking the apocalypse.
Day One: First Times
Day Two: Ride the Time Vortex
Day Three: Finding a Way
Day Five: Among the Trees
Read the rest of this entry »
Flash Fiction Week: Finding a Way
Posted by DLThurston in Flash Fiction on March 28, 2012
Day three of the flash fiction challenge brings on the setting of the bottom of the ocean.
Day One: First Times
Day Two: Ride the Time Vortex
Day Four: Above it All
Day Five: Among the Trees
Flash Fiction Week: Ride The Time Vortex
Posted by DLThurston in Flash Fiction on March 27, 2012
Day two of the settings challenge takes us to an abandoned amusement park.
Day One: First Times
Day Three: Finding a Way
Day Four: Above it All
Day Five: Among the Trees
Flash Fiction: Epithets
Posted by DLThurston in Flash Fiction on March 2, 2012
Another Friday, and again Chuck Wendig has thrown down the gauntlet. This week’s challenge:
Go to Your Favorite Music Player. Dig out your digital music collection.
Maybe this is iTunes or Spotify, or use Pandora if you’d rather go that way.
Hit SHUFFLE, then “Play.”
Translation: pull up a random song.
The title to this song is the title to your story.
Use the song for inspiration, too, if you feel so inclined.
My iPod must have known what was up, because I hit the shuffle button and up came the Paul and Storm song “Epithets.” Target length was 1000 words, but I shot for 500. The story is after the break.
Flash fiction: I’m Worried
Posted by DLThurston in Flash Fiction on January 27, 2012
This is for Chuck Wendig’s present tense flash fiction challenge, itself a response to io9’s 10 Writing “Rules” We Wish More Science Fiction and Fantasy Authors Would Break. This is about breaking rule 9: no Present Tense. Go read up on the other 9 to decide which ones you may want to break. Since I know I have a certain number of female readers, may I especially suggest #7. And I think I just also broke #1, since this is a prologue to the short story.
I’m Worried
DL Thurston
I’m worried. Still no word from Dwayne. We sent him out with our lunch order half an hour ago. The restaurant is right across the street. Or, it was right across the street. Now, I’m not so sure. The fog has rolled in even further, a thick curtain across the world. Three hours ago it was clear. Two hours ago we couldn’t see the airport. Now, we can’t see the restaurant. Or even the street. The world out the window is our building, the smoking deck, then just a light gray nothing. I wouldn’t normally be worried, I’ve seen fog before. But not like this fog. It’s different somehow. Something about the total opacity. The world doesn’t fade into it, it comes to an abrupt stop.
And I’m worried.
“When did you last get an email?” Nancy asks over the cubicle wall. She can see the fog, too.
“Ten minutes ago.”
“Not from inside the building.”
I pull out my Blackberry and scroll. Typically email would flow in from customers. Today? There’s an email outlining the company’s “shelter in place” policy, another reminding us that performance reviews are due, three emails spaced fifteen minutes apart about my mailbox being over size limit. Ah, there. “8:14 this morning.” That’s nearly four hours ago. I look out the window again. Is it closer now? There’s a railing along the edge of the smoking deck. I count the posts. Five. Ten. Fifteen. Eighteen. I can see eighteen of them. I’ve tried calling my wife. Did she just have her phone off? I don’t have reception now, or I’d try again.
“Where the hell is he, I’m starving?” asks Paul. He’s from deeper in the cubicle farm. He can’t see the window from there. I hear him now whistle, “there goes my ten dollars.”
Five. Ten. Fourteen. The edge of the fog now touches the building near accounts receivable. There’s a scream from down the hall. I leave my cube. I get away from the window. My mind dances. My legs pump. I don’t know what the fog is, but I don’t want to find out. Heads pop out of cubicles as I run past. They ask where I’m going. I don’t stop. Now is not the time to stop. Someone runs from the other direction. Fool. He’s going the wrong way. The path through the cubicles is a maze, but I’m the rat. I know where the cheese is. When taupe carpeted walls block my path, I turn left. When cream cinder blocks rear up, I turn right. Ahead is the glass front door.
Beyond is the fog. I stop. My heart continues. It pounds and aches in my chest. My wife’s office building is in that direction. Vaguely, somewhere. Still no reception. There’s an emergency exit to the right. I run. Screams come from all directions now. Panic. More runners in the cubicle halls. One runs into me, knocks me over. He’s coming from the direction I’m heading. I pull myself up. I have to see for myself. The door is wide open, and a smell rolls in. It’s not the fresh sting of ozone after a rain. This smells like striking a match.
“No way out,” someone says. “No way out.”
The fog is darker now. It pours in through the emergency door. It slips through the walls like they aren’t there. I can see it over the cubicles to my right and left. I know it’s behind me. The smell is everywhere. Prayers. Crying. Screaming. People react differently in a moment of crisis. My mind blanks entirely. A calm clarity. Hands tug at me, try to pull me back. I shake them off. Whatever the fog is, it is not going to stop now. It’s at my toes. It licks my nose.
I step forward.
I am no longer worried.