Tag Archives: Flash Fiction

Dark Fairy Queen – Midsummer Night’s Dream Contest: An Eye for an Eye

fairy, fairy dreams, the last krystallos,

An Eye for an Eye

Ariana released a soft sound of surprise that echoed slightly in the low evening light as her mother’s guiding hand scribed urgent words on her palm.

Though sightless and deaf, Ariana felt her mother move away and she instinctively pressed her toes into the grass. Drops of dew, decorating her bare feet with diamonds, reverberated, and micro echoes vibrated across her skin. She stretched her fingers through the echo of her mother and let the jasmine scented air whisper. She wondered what her mother’s urgently etched words on her palm meant.

Then the wind blew through her and whipped up a storm, and an unpractised murmur left her silent lips as the tornado whirled about her.

The wind spoke with an unintelligible moan, but she heard it – and then whispers, soft whispers susurrated in the arcs of light that suddenly filled her vision. She opened eyes that hadn’t opened in years, and light fluttered like a new-born butterfly.

With wonder she heard the whispers uttered by her own mouth. Delight filled her heart, swelling within her bosom, and she knew her days of night and lengthy silences were finally gone.

Mother had promised that one day she’d both see and hear, and now she could…

She blinked, and gazed upwards, letting the soft crimson sun tickle her face, and its familiar warmth sent shivers of delight down her spine, and twilight’s tears rested like raindrops on her cheeks. Her eyes began to focus, and the yielding sounds of dusk filtered through her mind, and she twirled, enjoying the senses that now filled her soul!

Her mother stood, facing the sunset, her back to Ariana, and Ariana gently stepped closer, relishing the green blades of grass between her toes and the vivid colours that now flooded her life. She brimmed with gratitude for whatever spell her mother had cast, and threw her arms around the woman before her.

Her mother’s unexpected flinch sent a spike of ice through her heart and she spun her mother round. Sightless eyes returned her stare as the sun slipped away, flushing Ariana’s new world into unknown indigo and gold. Words could still not yet form in Ariana’s mouth, but understanding grew, and she knew her mother had traded, an eye for an eye.

Tables turned, and through tears that twinkled like glittering stars her mother blindly felt for Ariana’s guiding hand.

* * *

My entry (396 Words) into our Dark Fairy Queen’s New Contest…

Details:
It is summer, a faint breeze blows, and the leaves are rustling. As dusk falls, the fireflies glow in a distant meadow. Have you not felt the magic of a summer night?
Your story should let us celebrate a midsummer night by creating 400 words.
For your theme, your story must take place, at least in part, on a summer evening. Also, choose one from the following list:
Dreams – Fairytales – Myths
Your story should be posted on your personal blog or a friend’s and linked up below with the Inlinkz tool (which opens July 15).

Please click the link below and read the other enchanting entries!

Writerly friends and Wombat’s Writing Challenge…

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DFQ Minion Con – Nottingham

I have amazing online writing communities – in several places – but the one that’s inspired me for years is #DFQ and the lovely Anna, and we recently organised a meet up in Nottingham for its UK members. The Cross Keys was our meeting place and we loved the decoration! It was a scene of wonderful writerly delight, invention, and meeting of like-minded souls. We all ‘got’ each other and it was great!

This is us: Nick, Angelica, Bekah, Lisa (Me), Becky, Miranda, Sorcha, Wombat, Jessica and Alex… and during our wordy meet up Wombat issued us with a challenge… He gave us each a first line, picked at random, and to be woven into a story… Here’s my response with its first line italicised:

Genesis

Nick is an average young man, filled with aspirations, struggles, hopes and doubts. He has everything that gives a young man life and a hunger for more. In five minutes he will cease to exist.

Nick bends his neck and stares up into the canopy. Dappled light flickers across the leaves, and he flinches as a glancing beam temporarily blinds him. Blue lights dance in front of his eyes and he grins as his gaze flicks across the foliage in the arboretum. It’s quiet and except for the soft hum of bees his ears pick up no sound.

Goosebumps ripple across his skin as a draught rustles through the leaves. The change in temperature makes him clutch his arms to his chest and his muscles tense in answer to the chill that fills the air. The sun, the light above the woods, begins to dip, to lower beyond the horizon and a lazy orange haze, like fire, shimmers through the tall trunks. Nick’s forehead creases and an urgent thought in the back of his mind begins to stir.

Racing to the front of his head, come memories, flashes of colour, memories of sunsets on beaches, and kisses that taste of salt, and the grit of sand between his toes. Nick shakes his head. It takes only moments for the light to fade and with it the hum of bees retires, replaced with the hoot of an owl and a sliver of white glimmering high above the trees. Nick rubs his arms and he remembers more.

Night life, sitting in a restaurant opposite a chatty blonde, cars rushing by on fast roads, a multitude of lights, orange, red, yellow, neon blue and more. He grins as he remembers a hand holding his, as he stands on a pier watching waves crash across the dark ocean, the moon a twinkling river of diamonds on its surface.

The moon is gone before he has a chance to recall more and birds begin a dawn chorus as he stands on dew damp grass. His memory smiles and despite his boots he feels the wet grass beneath his feet, and daybreak evokes pictures of waking in a tent, of bacon crackling on the stove, and a girlish giggle as he strokes her hair in the new glinting sunlight of the day.

His earlier thought simmers, just beyond reach. Birds now twitter in the canopy and as warmth caresses his skin, Nick grabs at the distant notion.

The clack of a woodpecker tunes his thoughts to fingers on a keyboard, then to a jackhammer on the pavement, heat haze shimmering like dust. The haze clouds his mind, confuses his thought process and impinges his memories. The dazzling sunshine glints, and realisation floods his brain, and he flinches as fragments of glass cut through his mind.

Nothing is real.

Heat fizzes and pops and in a second his thoughts cease.

Nick stands, silent and immobile, and two caretakers trample through the simulated arena to collect his body.

Back at the computer the tech guys shake their heads and begin reprogramming.

Anna is an average young woman, filled with aspirations, struggles, hopes and doubts. She has everything that gives a young woman life and a hunger for more. In five minutes she will cease to exist.

DFQ Minion Con – Nottingham – FUN

Visual Dare: Burden

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Photo Source

It’s heavy, so heavy, a bone-crushing weight that sits squarely on his shoulders. It sleeps within his heart most days, but when it wakes – it screams at him in silence.

He works in the garden, tending, pruning and caring, the same as he does indoors. The wind whispers in the leaves and the soil warms his fingers as he works. He loses himself, out there beneath the sun, heat softly stroking his back.

Indoors, his heart threatens to explode within his ribs, his mind caught within the web of knowledge and his burden growing with every passing moment.

She smiles, and his heart swells and his eyes glisten. Today she knows who he is. Today, he grips her liver-spotted hand within his wrinkled fingers, and kisses her soft skin. He smiles back.

Tomorrow is another day, and he doesn’t know what it will hold. The weight sits heavy, and heart-breaking.

(150 words)

An entry for Visual Dare over at Angela Goff’s Anonymous Legacy…this picture spoke to me of my own father, and a burden of knowledge…

Check out the other stories…

FlashMob: Time

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blue boc, the doctor, Doctor Who, flash mob writes,

My mouth curls upwards, unconsciously. Excitement pounds within my heart and my legs wobble, just for a moment.

“Are you coming?” he calls, turning back. His eyes pierce me; they’re green, as green as a peridot gemstone, and just as glistening.

Again, for a moment, I can’t speak. I just stand and gaze. He grins back, a boyish smile in a face that defies years, but speaks of youth and adventure. My heart slams against my ribs.

“Yes,” I whisper, as he fidgets and sweeps a hand through his auburn hair. The light, flashing behind him lights up his silhouette giving him a halo. I giggle. “Yes, I’m coming!”

I pull my wibbly legs together and set off after him, at a run to keep up. His stride lengthens and my heart leaps as my feet thump the pavement.

His coat flows like a cape, like a long gothic cloak, and for another moment, I imagine a deerstalker on his head, but no, this is not Sherlock…and I am not Watson.

His boots, buckled and studded, rap on the ground and I catch up. He turns to me again, not missing a step as I stumble beneath his gaze.

“You’re good with this?” he asks, that twinkle seeping into my very soul.

I nod. “Oh, yes, I’m good with this!” I reply.

Pale freckles, saturated by lamplight, dance upon his cheeks, across his nose, and I can barely restrain myself from reaching up and pushing his red hair out of his eyes. He shakes his hair away from his face.

“So,” he pauses, literally, and I almost run into him. “When did you know?”

“Kn-know what?” I stammer.

“When did you know you were coming with me?” His eyes search mine and I lower my face, staring at my shoes. His hand immediately lifts my chin and I cannot help but stare into those eyes. If I didn’t know already, then this would be the moment! I cannot speak, my tongue is lost, and my heart threatens to explode from my chest.

“Secretly, I think you knew when we had lunch, that first day…” he grins.

And he’s right. My mind scrolls back, to the day we’d run, so much running, but we’d stopped to eat, finally famished.

I nod. “The fish fingers and custard did it for me!” I smile.

He cocks his head and stares deeply into my eyes then let’s go of my face and chuckles. “Yep, that’s often the moment!” Then he’s gone, again, striding ahead.

“Doctor!” I call, “Wait for me…”

My heart is yet again in my mouth as I round the corner and there he is, leaning against the doorway of the blue box, pooled in white light and promises of adventure…

(459 words)

A new flash fiction challenge from Flash Mob Writes…choose your prompt and write 300 – 500 words…enjoy!

The Extraordinary Art of Writing Short Stories

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Tips to help you write extraordinary short stories.

I love dipping into an eclectic mix of short tales. Picking up an anthology or collection of shorts whilst waiting in the car for my kids, or reading while working out on the elliptical with my Kindle app on my phone, delights me and utilises what could be wasted time!

Books containing great short stories…

There’s an art to a short story, and it takes a well-practised writer to get it right. There’s nothing worse than dipping into a tale, finishing it in a few pages and having no reaction. That meh feeling just doesn’t cut it.

You need to be short, sharp, and succinct, and have enough story to make the tale worth telling.

A short story needs to tell a tale in very few words, it needs to grab you and not let you go, it needs to pull you in, swirl you about and throw you back out again! It needs to elicit a reaction. Very often that reaction will either be a smile, a laugh, or a shock, but it has to be a reaction nonetheless. It’s dreadful to read a short and feel you’re just dipping into someone’s high school level homework. Don’t make short stories ordinary, make them extraordinary!

If you’re writing romance, boy-down-the-road meets girl-up-the-road… Shake it up. Don’t give me four or five pages of boy thinking about girl, meeting unexpectedly, and falling in love right away. Shake it up, turn it around…maybe the boy is blind, maybe she walks by every day, she might like him, but not be confident enough to speak – then one day she trips and knocks into him, he recalls her scent and catches her hand… Make me breathe their attraction; make me feel their confusion and their nerves…let the story catch fire!

If the story’s been done before – and let’s face it, most have – what can you do to change it up, twist it, make it different, make it new and inspiring, turn the cliché upside-down? What’s your USP (Unique Selling Point) or as I like UTP – Unique Telling Point! What’s your style?

I honed my writing skills writing Flash Fiction and I hugely recommend it. You learn a vast amount by reading flash fiction, and then by writing it. Most Flash Fiction prompts are words, photos or music. You’re given a set of rules to follow and you create a piece within a particular number of words. It teaches brevity and that every word counts, editing skills, the importance of content, beginnings and endings, grammar, and basic story-telling to name but a few.

I’ve taken part in a variety of flash fiction, and still do. I delight in both writing to a set prompt, expanding my voices and genres, and sharing my work with those around me. My short flash fiction, shared on my blog, serves as an advert for my novels. If you like my flash, read my books!

Take a look at these short tales on some of my favourite blogs, see how the stories work, how they elicit a reaction, and you’ll see why you need to read more from these writers! Tinker My Heart – A Jar of Fireflies, Dancing at Whitsun – Cubic Scats, Duty – One More Leaf, The Apothecary’s Art – The Last Krystallos, Uninterrupted – Jo Cannon, and At the Museum – Searching for Ingleside. (Several of these pieces are Flash Fiction contest winners)

A short story collection or being included in a compendium or anthology can be great for an author especially an indie author. It’s a way for readers to get to know your writing, your style, without needing to buy your full length novels. This is also a major reason why getting the short story right is so important. If you write shorts badly, they may never move on to your other writing. Share whatever you want on your blog for free, let readers taste your writing, but only put your best work into a collection. If you’re publishing make it worth the money your reader is spending!

Don’t write ordinary tales, make them extraordinary!

When you’re choosing a collection of tales, don’t just read the reviews, make the most of the preview of the book that Amazon allows you to see…take a look at the writing, see if it’s for you..

Cutthroats and Curses

If you want to read some amazing collections – try these, tried and tested and brilliant works, and something for everyone. And I’ll stick my neck out and say of you want to read a fantastic short pick up ‘Cutthroats and Curses’ and read Beth Avery’s ‘ Roaring Dan Seavey…’, that’s how short stories should be written!

Once Upon a Time: A Collection of Unexpected Fairytales – SJI Holliday and Anna Meade

Finding a Voice – Jeffrey Hollar

And the Angels Cried and Other Short Stories – Annette S. Thomson

Once Upon a Time, Finding a Voice, And the Angels Cried, Through the Portal

Cutthroats and Curses: An Anthology of Pirates – Michael Wombat and The Anthology Club

Through the Portal – LaDonna Cole and Read Write Muse

Tales by the Tree, In Creeps the Night, Here be Dragons, Moonbeams and Fairies

Tales by the Tree: A Christmas Collection – J. A. Mes Press

In Creeps the Night: 50 Flash Fiction Horror Tales – J. A. Mes Press

Here Be Dragons – Hannah Steenbock

Of Moonbeams and Fairies – Rebecka Vigus (Childrens Tales)

Darrion, Burn, Moth Girl Versus the Bats

Darrion – Marissa Ames

Burn – Daniel Swensen

Moth Girl Versus The Bats – Michael Wombat

And if you want to try, and read, some Flash Fiction…click on the sites below or my side bar, check out my Blues Buster stories which you can find a quick link to in my Categories.

Five Sentence Fiction, Blues Buster, Visual Dare, Three Line Thursday, Flash! Friday, Horror Bites

So, do you love short stories? What are your favourites and what makes them special?

Are you a Flash Fictioneer? If you want to know more of my Flash Fiction beginnings read: Being a Flash Fictioneer (like a writing Musketeer…or something similar…). What’s your favourite site for Flash?

Zombie Flash: Time is Up…

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Photograph by Bekah Shambrook, Model Kas Mason, MUA Bekah Shambrook (Please do not use)

Governor Stirland was irritated. “Put him on hold,” he said curtly and lifted his finger off the comm button. He growled and leaned back in his shiny chrome, padded leather chair. From the sixty first floor he had a commanding view, he linked his hands behind his head, and surveyed his domed and air-conditioned, stainless steel city.

The city centre was clear of the undead…completely clear.

Professor Turnbull’s concoction had changed the world and made the young Governor a rich man, a very rich man, and he was grateful, really he was, but the professor’s whiny voice was now causing him a great deal of stress.
The airborne ZV39sT had worked and the undead had vacated the cities of their own accord, and now lived peaceably in the countryside, just as it was so across the planet. As a result the rest of mankind, now of no interest to the zombified, lived beneath domed cities, and were free to come and go as they pleased with no fear of the undead.

The Governor ran his fingers through his greying hair, sighed and picked up the phone. “So what’s the problem?”

Professor Turnbull cleared his throat at the other end. “Co2 levels are critically high and we’ve already lost huge land mass due to rising sea levels.” He paused for effect, “We may have turned the zombies vegetarian, but zombie deforestation has hit ninety-five percent and we’re about to run out of oxygen!”

(242 Words)

Art by and owned by Holly at Confessions of a Stuffed Olive

This was written for a fun Zombie Flash Fiction Competition hosted by Holly at Confessions of a Stuffed Olive. Must be written in under 250 words and contain humerous references to zombies! Go take a look at the rest on Holly’s page…they’re great!

Blues-Buster: For Freedom

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This is written for the Mid-Week Blues-Buster Flash Fiction Challenge week 01 over at The Tsuruoka Files. The prompt is a song ‘Freedom’ by Elayna Boynton and Anthony Hamilton which you can find here. The target is 500 words, but anything between 300 and 700 is okay. I really enjoyed the challenge of a longer piece.
The line from the song: ‘Looking for freedom, and to find it, cost me everything I have.’ inspired this tale of courage and freedom…

Photograph by Lisa Shambrook (Please do not use without permission)

For Freedom

Rosa started down the cliff path to the bay, giving no heed to the wind whipping through her voluminous skirts. She moved swiftly, her heart full of resolve and determination. She pushed damp hair away from her face and gazed down at the beach. Smoke seeped out of the caves below and Rosa cast a hurried look over her shoulder.

Mournful cries carried across the bay on a gust and she swallowed hard, her fingers moving unconsciously to her pocket and stroking metal. A few more steps and she jumped down onto the dark, wet sand. She glanced up the path once again then headed for the smoking caves.

Another lonely lament echoed, booming through the labyrinth of tunnels beneath the hills and it was matched by a sounding horn up on the cliff.

It wasn’t her they were missing, surely not, a common kitchen maid would not be noticed, there or not, but she hurried on.

The horn called again and soldiers reached the cliff edge, weapons glinting in the sun.

Rosa headed into the gloomy cave and ducked behind a rock, as the smoke cleared she slowly raised her head and as her eyes adjusted to the shade her jaw dropped.

Restrained in chains was a creature more beautiful than anything she’d ever seen.

She gasped and the fledgling dragon turned, its scales dancing in streams of sunlight from gaps in the roof. She stood, transfixed by the opalescent greens and pinks playing across the dragon, who reared up on its hind legs and spread its wings.

Rosa’s breath caught in a lump that threatened to tear her heart out. The young dragon’s wings were laced with wounds and rents, and for a moment she thought all was lost.

She gripped the key in her pocket and she mustered her courage.

Soldiers, cascading down the cliff, echoed and she stepped away from the rock and stood before the dragon. She waited, with breath locked deep inside her chest as the creature stared back at her, its eyes black and wild.

Purple flames licked its maw and small wisps of smoke escaped its nostrils. Rosa refused to breathe as she stepped closer. The dragon tensed and coiled, its tail swinging slowly back and forth.

Woe grumbled through the cave from outside and the dragon’s attention flickered. Rosa followed the heavy chain from a thick metal post at the rear of the cave, across the sand, to the dragon.

The tight manacle gripped the dragon’s leg, and Rosa winced at the crusted blood and broken scales beneath the cruel metal.

She drew the key out of her pocket, resolutely flung a few words to the Gods and strode forward. The dragon reversed, dragging the awful chain, and threw a violet blaze at her. Undeterred she advanced, backing it into a dark corner. The dragon flapped and tried to lift off the sand, but the chain hung heavy and tugged at the bloody mess. Rosa threw herself at the dragon’s feet and grappled with the iron cuff. The creature flapped and screeched and flames flashed through the dark. Rosa unlocked and released the shackle then rose, before the creature, and waved her arms and shouted. Confusion filled the cave as the dragon’s panic, fire and smoke burst forth and her cries could barely be heard above the commotion.

Outside armour chinked and the whip of arrows filled the air and the dragon was suddenly up and free. Chaos reigned and soldiers fled as the creature tore out of the cave breathing fire and roaring in reply to the dragon call that now echoed across the bay.

Rosa stumbled out onto the beach, heedless to the burns blistering across her arms and her scorched hair.

She watched as the young dragon soared, despite damaged wings and escaped into the ocean sky. She wandered forward, in oblivious relief, and blissfully unaware of the singing arrow that lodged between her shoulders. She’d done what she came to do…the caged dragon was free, as now so was she…

(675 Words inc title)

BCF: Festival

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Business Card Fiction is a new Flash Fiction Contest run by @JDWenzel, @bullishink and @LillieMcFerrin.
The contest asks us to create a piece of flash fiction from a prompt to fit a business card…and there will be prizes…

This is for their Beta Trial Event and I chose the prompt: FESTIVAL

I chose a font size 13 in Times New Roman, but I’m still thinking that’s quite small…lucky this is a beta event, next time: write less, bigger font!

Follow @BCFiction on Twitter

55 Words #17: Reaching for the Moon

Visual Dare: Risk

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I’m trying Angela’s Visual Dare #9 prompt for the first time. The photograph can be used to either weave into your WIP or as a 100 word flash…

Photograph Source: Les Petites Choses

Risk

There are moments in childhood where danger simply does not exist.

It matters not whether you’re a renegade pirate walking the plank with no fear of sharks or the roiling ocean below, or a circus performer walking the wire with the gaping mouths of lions snapping at your feet. You could be an explorer balancing, a million feet up, on a precipice, rescuing a hoard of refugees from incarceration and leading them to certain freedom…

You could be anything, anything in the world, in the universe, anything anywhere!

The important thing is though…is never to forget those precious moments…

(97 words)