The Mountain Men - Day 326"You are crazy." Turnus told his brother.The Mountain Men - Day 3261 day ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes
"I'm tellin' ya, bro!" Keyos insisted. "They hunt us down and eat us for some sort of pagan demon ritual!"
"Sure, and I can fly. Ha!" Turnus joked, flapping his great wide Turkey wings filled with feathers. Keyos frowned and waddled ahead of his brother. "Oh come on, I'm just teasing you. Keyos! Come ahn!"
Turnus caught up to his brother, who was standing stock still, his head stuck in a bush. Turnus furrowed his brow. "You peakin' on Feather again?"
Keyos viciously shook his head. Worried, Turnus followed his brothers head and looked ahead. His jaw dropped.
He saw one of the Mountains, cannon in hand, carrying a Turkey carcass across the field. He loomed over the landscape, feet pounding the earth and sending earthquakes across the world. Its eyes, full of dangerous light, glared lazily to its thunder legged beast, hoping to ride home to its dwelling in the forest of stone and stars.
Turnus stepped back and felt his foot land on something. He
A Dragon Always ForgetsMartin slowly made his way into the cave, trying not to wake the large white dragon curled up just beyond the entrance. He got so far before kicking a small stone, making him stop dead in his tracks.A Dragon Always Forgets2 hours ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes
“WHO DARES DISTURB MY SLUMBER?”
The loud bellow seemed to make the entire mountain shake as if hit by an earthquake, causing a small rock fall outside and leaving Martin partially deafened. “Woah. Hey, I thought I told you to adjust the volume on that reverb spell?”
The dragon lifted his head and looked at him, somehow managing to appear embarrassed. “Sorry. It keeps slipping my mind.”
Before either of them said anything else, a billy goat poked his head around the cave entrance, and gave a rather annoyed-sounding “Beeeh!” before disappearing.
Martin wagged his finger in mock severity. “Now look what you’ve done. You’ve upset one of the neighbours.”
The dragon snorted, a small puff of smoke coming out of his nostrils.
Entry #64: So FewSchool is kinda weird now of days, so few people go. Only a fourth of the student body work up the courage to come to school, and less than half of the staff. Because so many people have stopped going, the teachers have stopped actually teaching individual classes. Instead, they get the remaining students into the auditorium and we become one big class. We come up with topics, and we talk about said subject. It’s a lot funner than normal classes, even if I don’t participate. But with fewer students coming everyday, I doubt this will last. The principal says that if we lose 50 more students, he’ll ask the city to close the school down until further notice.Entry #64: So Few5 hours ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes
42. FallingEstanial was falling. He knew this much. Where he was, why he was falling, and what had happened so suddenly? These questions he knew no answer to. But he was falling, somewhere. He wasn’t descending fast, but swiftly enough to feel the gentle air sweep across his face. He felt terribly light, as if he were a leaf carried far away by the wind. Any moment, it seemed, he could snap in half or be torn to shreds by whatever lurked further into the abyss. Such vulnerability made Estanial shiver with dread.42. Falling14 hours ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes
Mustering up the merest amount of courage, he slowly opened his eyes. But he could see nothing. Nothing but the darkest veil of black, engulfing around him like a funnel. He gasped in panic, unable to control his reaction, and quickly he shut his eyes once more. He’d rather be taken away blindly than to see the horror that surely awaited him. In a feeble attempt to calm his nerves, the young pup rustled around his chest. I am still wearing the costume!
Indeed he was. It
New York City: What my Father told me1. The people from Jersey City have a special glint in their eyes. This is how they recognize each other in Manhattan. If you cross them, they will get the governor of NJ to conduct a “traffic study” in your living room.New York City: What my Father told me18 hours ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes
2. If you can catch a pigeon, it has to give you five wishes.
I caught a pigeon, but it only gave me one wish. I am now the proud owner of an ice cream sandwich. It sits in prominent position on my shelf.
3. If you find a telephone pole and climb it, and you put your ear close to the wire, you can listen to phone conversations. But you have to do this when the linemen are not prowling. They defend their territory fiercely. They can whistle to the pole and it will shake you off and you will fall into a bag and the linemen will take you and throw you in the big dump where all the dead telephone poles go.
Also you have to find one. Most phone lines in NYC are underground. Try an outer-edge street in Queens or the Bronx.
4. Occasionally, a luxury liner comes in
Brief Psychological Profile on Kingsley MontiveloA segment from the official transcript of Samantha Phillips’ recorded notes regarding Kingsley MontiveloBrief Psychological Profile on Kingsley Montivelo20 hours ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes
Kingsley Montivelo --- Atma 9th, 1888
Interviewer: Samantha Phillips
Copy 1 of 1
Samantha Phillips: The subject exhibits the characteristics of extreme narcissism and suffers from combat shock. Simultaneously has a self-aggrandized sense of worth and extreme self-loathing. There is also a hint of sexual frustration or inadequacy, note: find past romantic and sexual relationships or encounters-if any.
Subject is very defensive in interviews and likes to control the conversation. Often plays the part of the victim and casts blame on everyone but himself. He craves the spotlight and has a pathological need to be the leader, which most likely stems from his extreme paranoia. He is terrified of being abandoned or left alone, which is why he continues to see Alex. He needs an audience which may be why he jumped at the chance to write his memoirs. Have seen him in court multiple time
The 3 AM food truckThere’s no regulation in New York City about how late a Food Truck can remain open at night -- only where it can go, and how long it can stay. The question is, WHY would a food truck want to sell its wares at 3 AM in Brooklyn? And why would it be doing so on Hoyt Street, which the food trucks aren’t allowed onto? And why would it operate with all its lights off? That’s bound to cause them a few grease burns in the kitchen. I know they were cooking something, I could smell the oil from a hundred yards away. I know someone was purchasing. They were there at the window handing over their money.The 3 AM food truck18 hours ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes
In the orange Sodium glow of the street light, the words on the truck were clear -- "GOMMA NASH NAHOGENA, CHUD GOOM."
Chud, huh? Last time they came up from the sewers, everyone panicked. Maybe they were working towards better community relations this time.
Except, of course, that the truck faded as I moved towards it. Which was a shame. I don't get the chance to have Chud food ve
Ailanthus TreeFew trees in New York City grow with more vigor and tencaity than the Ailanthus Tree. Commonly called the “tree of heaven”, it has gained the nickname “tree of hell” for its foul odor and tendency to re-sprout after being cut down.Ailanthus Tree19 hours ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes
Magicians of the city prize the Ailanthus for these very reasons. Wizards find that the sap of the Ailanthus, collected properly, will double the potency of many potions; sorcerers are able to draw on the tree to gain strength. Shamans cling to the Ailanthus when they wish to contact spirits that would be otherwise too powerful to withstand. The Ailanthus is a testament to the tenacity and resilience of living beings. Modern people living outside the city may expect an urban landscape to be completely concrete and asphalt. But there is the Ailanthus tree, its roots sunk deep into whatever purchase it can get, its presence known long before it is seen. Seriously. It smells like the Devil's wet dog farted.
Not all life is pretty, after