Where Sunshine Cannot FollowIn the mornings, he kisses his husband and his wife goodbye, takes his briefcase and his lunch, and goes to work. He remembers their warmth as he waits for the bus. He knows they will be waiting for him when he returns, each with a hug and a kiss for him, and their smiles will break down the clouds just as they always do, and he will be happy.Where Sunshine Cannot Follow3 days ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
He spends his lunch hours pacing the roof, begging himself not to let himself fall.
Don't Ever Make LemonadeDon't Ever Make Lemonade7 hours ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
I sat chewing on yet another lemon rind as I stared across the lemon fields. Yellow fruits as far as the eye could see, and I was sick of it. Why couldn't my grandparents have been wealthy peach field farmers? Peach farmers have giant, three story mansions and wrap around porches. I have a three room shack. They have barn-fulls of high power equipment. I have a single tractor that's costing me a thousand bucks every other week for repairs.
Lemons, it had to be lemons. Rows and rows of sour, golden fruit. Maybe it was growing up on sour lemonade and lemon pie, but I don't even like the things. Can't stand them really.
I leaned back against the fence a bit more, studying those colorful little pests. I spit the rind out. It landed a few inches shy of the rind pile and its gnat storm. Shaking my head, I peeled another fruit and slurped its juice.
"I'd of though you'd have gotten used to the taste of lemons by now." My neighbor, a large man with a loud mouth personality th
Rip-Off - Day 176“What the hell is this!?” Bart yelled at his smart phone. Amanda glanced at him curiously, along with about forty other people in the small town's square. They'd decided to go out and just ramble around the city and do some shopping. But of course, Bart had gotten glued to his iPhone's screen the entire day.Rip-Off - Day 1765 days ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
“Keep your voice down!” She quietly yelled at him. “What the hell is what?”
“This!” He pointed at his screen. He was on the Google play store, skimming through some games. She spotted Angry Birds in the corner, but she had no idea what his problem was. Amanda looked up at him with a furrowed brow.
He rolled his eyes pointed again. His finger lead her gaze to a two dimensional eight bit side-scroller. It was called 'Paper Boy'. She still had no idea what the problem was. “Yeah?” She inquired.
He sighed gruffly and pulled his phone back. “This game is just a complete rip-off, man. It has all the same designs as 'The Be
[p] laying deadon-stage, gunshots rang.[p] laying dead1 week ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
audience fell, silent.
Case FileCase File: Trans-human subjects LD and VC.Case File2 days ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Warning: Subjects must be considered incredibly dangerous. Direct hostile contact is
not advised.to be avoided at nearly all costs.
Age of both subjects is 25, both seem to have been created using the same genetic engineering method. Large patches of the human genome is replaced by synthetic strands of DNA in both subjects. How this happened is unknown, subjects have a shared story they believe but HQ remains skeptical of.
Physical abilities: Both subjects demonstrate overall superiority to natural humans in all physical performance areas.
Strength: VC demonstrates physical strength somewhat greater than twice the greatest level ever recorded in a natural born man. LD demonstrates strength slightly over 2.5 times greater. It should be noted that this is based on bench pressing records which are heavy in upper body strength, being women both subjects have proportionally greater strength in their core and legs.
Reaction time: B
Under The VeilWhen Zainab came home, she heard a woman crying. The door to her living room was closed, so she could not see who the woman was. Satnam was making tea for the three of them in the kitchen. Zainab shook off her coat and joined her.Under The Veil2 days ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
“Already one so early?” Zainab asked. “Have you spoked to her?”
“Briefly, sister. I told her you’d be here soon. Did you remember to buy the bread?”
“No. I forgot to buy the most basic thing on the list.” She put the bread away in the fridge.
“You know what I mean. Did you remember to buy the bread.”
Zainab huffed and showed Satnam the receipt. “You think I can hide a loaf of bread in my Hijab? Maybe if I wored a Khimar, but–” She stopped there, noticing the way Satnam bit her lips. “Oh, stop your teasing. Let’s see the client.”
“Yes. Let us start our good day’s work.”
Satnam picked up the serving tray with three cups of tea and
FFM 01 - StargazingA cool breeze rolled in from the east, gently tracing through Junior’s hair like delicate fingers. The scent of wildflowers and grass mingled with the familiar comfort of aftershave and tobacco on his grandfather’s old flannel, and he breathed it all in as deeply as he could. It was all so pleasant, and he wanted to make sure that he would remember every detail: the twinkle of the stars, the soft rumble of the old man humming. They counted stars for hours before the first streak of light cut through the black velvet of the night sky.FFM 01 - Stargazing2 days ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
“Was that her, Appo?” the boy whispered, wide-eyed and breathless.
The old man chewed on his pipe for a moment and smiled gently, shaking his head. “Nope. That one was Great-Gram Conny, for sure. She was always the first one to any party, to make sure things were set up for the rest of the guests. She had to make sure you were good and comfy, and that I was takin
New Age of Smash - New Challengers in Our Future?New Age of Smash - New Challengers in Our Future?4 days ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
It's been a few months following the announcement of the Super Smash Bros. Universe/Dimensions Fighter Ballot, but after taking some time to think about it, I have come up with a list of characters I would like to see get into the game as downloadable fighters. The list includes eight characters, four of which are from Nintendo-based properties while the other four are third-party representatives; in addition, two of the four third-party characters are from Bandai-Namco and Sega, who are already represented in these games by Pac-Man and Sonic the Hedgehog.
This list was constructed using the following criteria:
~Characters that come from long-running series must be relevant in some fashion.
~Franchises that are already represented must have no more than the highest amount of playable characters (see below).
~Third party characters must have had at least one game on a Nintendo console, or at least have a Nintendo port of their game on the way.
~No additional characters from the f
FFM 2015 2: Santa Maria, Pray for MamaI have an early memory of rushing up into the nipa hut and stumbling toward where she bent sifting through the uncooked rice for little black stones. Mirth was bubbling in my chest--Mateo, that little lothario, had been trying to bestow kisses, and I had only managed to dash away, my bakya flying off to wallop him on the tummy. How my playmates had laughed!FFM 2015 2: Santa Maria, Pray for Mama1 day ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
I had to tell her of Mateo’s infernal new tactics! “Mama!” I caught her skirt, but before I could bury my blushing face into the plaid cotton that always, always smelled of her favorite hot strong chocolate, she shifted back, out of my reach, and the little black stones spilled down from the bowl to rain down on my face.
One night, I stirred as she tugged away a multicolored shawl of hers that I liked to clutch in my sleep. I sat up from the banig and watched her drape the shawl over her head. My mouth parted, but she touched a finger to my lips. “Hush now, Lucia. Mama will only be out a little while.”
Why Any(every)thing (commission) She pulls me to a corner table and shoves me into a chair with a glowing smile, accompanied by a wink. “You're hilarious, you know. You'll babble for days on end about the meaning of life, and yet you can't order a coffee without getting tongue-tied.”Why Any(every)thing (commission)6 days ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
I wince and tug at my cuff. “I know. I'm a mess.”
“Oh, I wouldn't go that far.” She laughs as she slings her bag off her shoulder. I join in half-heartedly, though I manage to force myself not to tug at my cuffs any more. Even if she wouldn't go that far, what else am I? All you have to do to order coffee is name what you want, maybe tack on a 'please' and 'thank you' to avoid making the staff give you dirty looks. This isn't the first time she's saved me from myself.
Why does she even bother? I'm not getting any less awkward. It's got to be frustrating trying to pilot another 'adult' through such a simple interaction.
The Types of DreamsShe dreamed sometimes, of sharks coming through her windows and her able to breathe underwater and speak to them. Other times she ran through the fields with fairies flying around her, and the roars of lions following them all, as though she belonged to their pride and they would always stay with her.The Types of Dreams2 days ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Those were the happy dreams. She had always had them, and she was never upset when she woke up from them, regardless of what else had happened.
Other days she dreamed that she finally had somebody who loved her, and they were happy and she was married to him and they had lovely children with golden hair and dimples like his. Some days it didn’t even go that far. She was simply dating somebody in her dreams, and they didn’t even have to love her. It was enough they just wanted to spend time with her.
Those were the days she awoke upset and ready to cry, but faking happiness for the people around her. She never knew what to say when they looked at her and asked her to do
Living in a DesertDisclaimer. This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any individual, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The author owns exclusive rights to this work.Living in a Desert1 day ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
I can't stop, though. I have to keep moving.
With each forward movement, I find myself even more famished. It feels as though I'm quickly diminishing in size, the ground coming ever closer as I drag myself forward.
The ground beneath me is dry and brittle. The dust caught in each passing breeze simply brushes up against me. It's not enough to sustain me, even if I were desperate enough to consume it. I wish I were just a little lighter, though. Maybe then the wind could carry me like it does the dust.
Instead, I keep rolling forward, fighting against the gnawing hunger inside me. The wind presses against my face, its slight breeze only enough to make my resolve flicker. But it's blowing in the direction I've been, and I know there's no food that way.
Suddenly, a stron
MakkiIn a house across town, an old man sits on the sofa. He is on leave, and though he used to love his job, this time, he hasn't even noticed its absence. The paper bag beside him spills a dark stain across the faded fabric and he doesn't notice that, either. His eyes stare into last week even as the stain grows larger, threatening the trousers he hasn't taken off since Sunday twice gone. Echoes of a german shepherd's bark catch his attention, momentarily, and a smile lights up his face, only to slide away again immediately. The kennel in the corner mocks the man -- a tain in the wood reminds him of the bullet, and the emptiness is a heartbreak he can't bear to live with and can't fathom living without.Makki2 days ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
He doesn't move for hours, and when he does it is sudden. With a roar, he launches himself at the kennel. Fueled by misery, fury, and something a lot like self pity, he gets the thing outside and vents his rage properly. A name plate falls down and he hacks it to pieces, until all that is
FFM--2nd--A Clockwork MoonThe door slammed open, creating a sudden gust of air to disrupt the silence. Nathan instinctively dropped his smartphone onto his desk and looked up to see a very angry Maria glaring at him.FFM--2nd--A Clockwork Moon12 hours ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
“Hi,” Nathan said, adjusting his top hat while he thought of any way he might have possibly angered his aggressive subordinate.
“Whose job was it last month to clean the gears in the Crescent Wax section?” Maria asked, crossing her arms.
“Um…” Nathan quickly turned off his phone, hiding his Tetris game, and shuffled around a few papers on his desk before pulling one out of the insanely chaotic stack that covered the entire desktop. “It was Robert’s turn,” he confirmed, looking up at Maria.
“When is it Danny’s turn?”
Nathan scanned the paper. “Next year.”
Maria growled. “They each thought it was each other’s turn to do it.” She muttered something else, most likely a death threat, under her bre
inte supply of custard creams, stared intently at"gee gertrude," corndog mayor said, "why are we eating in a room submerged in brine??" gertrude was busy doing her important paperwork, signing a thousand-page legislation called Harvey versus volcanic volcano man: morality purposed throughout the binary opposition within pan-intelligentsia. "i don't know corndog mayor maybe i just hoped it would moisturise you or something" "moisturise?" "moisturise." "i don't need moisturising i've got, like, feelings and stuff" gertrude picked up their tub of butter. "corndog mayor, you need to moisturise because otherwise you will shrivel up into a french fry and nobody wants that in this day and age" she put on a happy mask, a la a greek theatre. "mmmmmm delicious skin oppression... makes me TANNED. you should try some." "yes but it also makes you FAT gertrude; i'm sorry but i had to say it, i'm just looking out for you." gertrude sniffed and cried out a tear made out of seapunk dolphins. tabby the grandfather clock cat, who was at the backinte supply of custard creams, stared intently at2 days ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
EmoticalsThe train is late.Emoticals2 days ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Cramped in the station, I let myself sigh. Third time this week; the petrol rations must be affecting public transport, too. Nothing’s been the same since the Event.
Shuffling around, I try to find some space in the dank station. It’s dirty, this one. Rubbish strewn, the air cloying with the scent of old garbage and stale gases. A layer of soot blankets everything.
Moving to the back of the underground station, that’s when I spot it; a bright yellow box, clean, in stark contrast to its industrial surrounds. Emoticals is written on the side, with a cartoon smiley-face staring out.
Emoticals are quite popular. You put in a dollar, and they dispense a skin patch. They’ve been all the rage since the big pharmaceuticals found a way to chemically induce emotions. You can get all kinds of emotions these days; happiness, optimism, fear, even love. If you have the money.
I’ve never used one before, but what the hell, it’s been a whil
Lake MelanieI always loved the lake. Many afternoons I found myself walking at its edge, perhaps skipping a rock or watching a small fish darting around just under the surface. Even when I moved away from my parents’ home and into my own, I’d make the drive whenever I had the chance.Lake Melanie2 days ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Sunset, especially, lit the water as if it were on fire, orange sunlight piercing the tips of the tiny waves created by autumn breezes. On one such afternoon, I stopped by. I skipped my parents’ completely, going straight to the gate door and down the wooden path to the lake.
I needed the lake that day. I felt my marriage teetering on the edge of collapse, my boss cut my hours earlier that day, and my doctor said my mental health had declined significantly. In short, the carefully controlled environment I had created for myself threatened to crumble around me. I walked halfway around it before sitting down on a water-front bench my parents had put in just for me. I slipped my sandals off and swirled
Travis Gets SurprisedTravis Gets Surprised2 days ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Aslin stood and stared at herself in the bathroom mirror. She told herself this was fine. Travis would freak for a bit but then they’d be okay. That’s just how he was. She reached up, fingers brushing against the bruise forming around her left eye.
It’ll be fine.
She took a deep breath to calm herself and then hurried out of the bathroom. The apartment was eerily quiet that afternoon, with her rapid footsteps providing the only noise. Travis was down at the city park with Finn, engaging in some football with Clyde and Jared. Aslin had agreed to meet them later.
Her heart was racing as she grabbed her purse and locked the door, then speed walked to the elevator and stepped out onto the city streets.
It was a warm, pleasant day. The sky was blue and the sun was shining without a single cloud in sight. A gentle breeze kept it from feeling too hot. She hurried to the park.
Finn was five and full of beans. He laughed loudly as he ran at the football, kicking
Artists Do Not Taste Good “Magnifico!” the King cried, darting around the canvas like a hummingbird. He even looked the part, with his golden crown and red cloak, and the splatters of paint across his face. “Look, my dears, look at this piece of art!”Artists Do Not Taste Good2 days ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
“Your Majesty, this is a council meeting. Surely you can pursue this at another time?” Lord Gold, in charge of coin, looked towards the other council members desperately. They shook their heads helplessly. The King paid him no mind, instead muttering to himself in his mother tongue as he beamed at the painting.
“Your Majesty!” a knight shouted as he burst into the council room. His uniform was in disarray, his eyes wild. “Your Majesty, a dragon!”
The King spun around with a bright smile. “Yes! That is a fantastic idea!” He produced a paint brush and a fresh canvas from thin air (although he’d probably had them stashed in his robes) and
On The FarmCody was currently lying on a haystack. The nine-year-old blond boy had one foot planted firmly on the stack and the other leg cross over, with that foot waving around. He wore a denim jacket with no sleeves and jeans with the bottoms of them rolled up. He was barefoot.On The Farm4 days ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
As he lay there, the boy’s father, Dale came along. “Come on, Cody, we have work to do,” the man said, brushing a piece of hay with a fluffy end over the boy’s foot.
“Ehe!” Cody cried, giggling. “Dad! That tickles!” the nine-year-old cried. Dale smiled.
“What does? This?” the man asked, sliding the hay between his son’s toes, eliciting squeals of ticklish delight from the young boy.
“Ahahahaha ahahahahaha!” cried Cody, his high-pitched giggles filling the air. The boy’s arms were still folded underneath his head, so Dale reached up and after dropping the piece of hay from his hand, he shoved his fingers into his son’s slightl
Message UndeliverableI am the goddess of the Sticky Note.Message Undeliverable6 days ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
I long thrived on all of the words humanity would generously pour into me. I feasted on their cursive, their block letters, their chicken scratch. Penmanship came in many flavors – each one a fresh treat, each one an act of devotion. Each message as unique as the human hand that scrawled it in their haste.
People never seemed to feel that they had enough time. But I had all of time to enjoy their scribblings.
Messages to themselves. Messages to each other. Messages meant for the void. So many fleeting moments I enjoyed along with my loyal followers – soaking in their ink and their graphite and their adorably-named permanent markers.
Then the laptops came. The cellphones. The tablets.
My source of worship dried up. Why bother with paper? Digital would not crumple. It would not be destroyed in the wash, forgotten in some back pocket. It would not end up at the bottom of some messenger bag, smeared and torn.
One by one I lost them. Oh, the
The Author is DeadPlease, I need your help. We're both in danger.The Author is Dead1 week ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Do you see that corpse in the corner? The one with fluffy red hair? That's the author of this story, and she's dead. If you don't want the same thing to happen to you or me, you need to do everything I say.
Okay. First, turn off the volume on your device. The monster's still here, and it will attack if it hears you. Work quietly now...
We don't have words to waste, so I'll sum this up quick:
I'm the protagonist. You can call me Proto.
The writer invented a creature whose harpoon-like limbs could go through anything. While she was thinking of a way for me to beat it, one claw punctured the fourth wall, and her chest, then dragged her in. She died before giving me anything.
That hole in the wall is how I can see you. You're all I have left, dear reader.
All of my teammates have been killed off- the other bodies you see. It is still nosing around them. Hasn't noticed me hiding by the rubble.
If nothing changes by the story