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Flash Fiction Month

Remember how your mother told you never to flash your fiction in public? Well, we here at Flash Fiction Month don’t adhere to such societal norms.

FFM is an annual community writing event, run during the month of July, in which participants write one piece of flash fiction between 55-1000 words every day for a month.

Each day we post prompts, and the occasional (optional) extra challenge, and though it may seem daunting at first, we guarantee you'll have a good time, meet some new people, and learn a thing or two about writing along the way.


:bulletgreen: What is Flash Fiction Month all about?

Flash Fiction Month is an annual community writing event, run in July, in which participants write one piece of flash fiction every day for a month.

:bulletgreen: What is Flash Fiction?

Flash Fiction is simply very short prose pieces, generally defined as being 1000 words or less. The word limits for Flash Fiction Month are 55 words minimum, to 1000 words maximum.

:bulletgreen: Do I have to write every day?

Yes. No. Whatever you can manage - we at FFM realise that life can get busy, so we understand that some people may not be able to write a 1000-word story every day. But c'mon - it's flash fiction! We think a three-a-week minimum is a reasonable expectation, considering you can write three 55-worders, if you like.

However we do hope you'll give the full FFM experience a try. It can be difficult, but we guarantee you'll reach the end of the month a better writer, and ideally you'll have had some fun, and made some new friends.

:bulletgreen: How do I join?

Simple! First, make your commitment official and let us know you're participating on the yearly Sign-Up Page. Then join the official FlashFictionMonth group so that you can share your stories with fellow participants during July! And finally, watch our founding account Flash-Fic-Month, to receive timely (separate) notifications for the daily prompts, so the important stuff doesn't get lost in the fray!

:bulletgreen: Still have questions?

Visit our comprehensive FAQ page and all will be revealed.

:bulletgreen: Feeling generous?

Our FFM winner's prizes are funded entirely by donations! So if you're feeling altruistic, and you have a few spare points to hand, head over to Flash-Fic-Month and donate! :flirty:


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Treasure ChestSmogg, the greatest of the crimson dragons, wheeled in the skies above Pondtown, belching impenetrable clouds of smoke and showers of white-hot sparks. A band of treasure-hunting dwarves had driven it out of its lair, and their fastest messenger had raced into town bearing the sole arrow capable of killing it.Burt the bowman drew the arrow back to his cheek and waited patiently for his target to present itself. He had a reputation for unfailing accuracy, and it was well deserved.“His entire underside is coated in gems from his hoard,” said the messenger, hurriedly, “but there's a gap on his left breast. It's the only way to kill him.”“No!” protested the mayor, waving his arms blubberously. “If you kill it now its body will crush half the town! Aim for its eye – drive it back to its lair!”Smogg swooped low, flaring its wings to impose upon them the full majesty of its impervious glittering armour. Still, Burt held off, the perfect opportunity apparently not yet perfect enough. Heat poured from the body of the beast as it flapped, casting a gale through the streets that stripped the leaves from the trees and sandblasted the windows opaque. The dwarven messenger, the mayor and his aide all ducked for cover, but Burt stood his ground. As the dragon rose up again, he loosed his arrow. “I don't believe it,” gasped the messenger.“You missed!” spat the mayor.The arrow had winged the dragon, ploughing a furrow through the armour on its side. “Whoops,” said Burt, just barely restraining a smile as an enormous diamond tumbled into his chimney.
How / You / FeelIt was patterns. It was a thing spinning in time, existing only in how it changed from one moment to the next. Existing only in how it stayed the same. It was music. It was a song, the song. The one Master had made with loving iron gloves, had been told: spin, sing, here, manage each beat, overlay them, control them— It was the one who could see through itself as it spun its vibrations in the air—could see all people from the land—and lower the note, quicken the beat, do what it was created for, its great art. It could see all, know all, and be the music in their hearts. Change the music in their hearts. Master had said: make sure they love me. What is love? it had asked, off-beat to itself. This one, Master had patiently said, led it to the patterns that meant love, the collections of notes that invoked it, the rising motion, the bridges. Oh, it said, and it was beautiful. Make sure, Master reminded. And here, here’s what anger looks like— Rhythms on top of each other, a shrill voice. Also beautiful. Do not allow them anger toward their required tasks. It had moved sadly between tones. Why not allow? I like the sound of this, I like the sound of all that sounds— Not for their required tasks. And not for me. But for other things, if you want. At your discretion. And so was the way it had learned and learned and learned, and grown a repository of every timbre of feeling it could find, had connected them in melodies one atop another to make any mix— And now— Master? Master? it called out. But no one responded. It was time; it kept to beats. It knew the passage of its movements and it counted them and Master still did not return. But it did see the emotions—hear them—the confusion—Someone has killed the Overlord, it heard someone say— It vibrated sadly, and made that person sad about that. I don’t know why, I don’t know why, it makes me so sad— We can do anything we want now— But I fear freedom— They said, the Heroes, they said the Overlord had hold of our emotions—so maybe— The song that was everyone’s emotions sped up. Maybe he’s alive! Maybe Master’s alive! And then it realized that of course he wasn’t. All that was left was—was it—a song no one knew of— A song no one could talk to— A song that didn’t know what to do. A plaintive cry in human voices. A slowing… slowing… slowing down of the rhythm until each note lasted seconds, a droning cry. No one could hear it, of course, only feel it, but they all felt it and what they felt was loneliness. I don’t know why, but— But it’s like there’s someone I need to find. And the song wanted—it wanted—oh how it wanted, and if it wanted hard enough perhaps it could encode location as music that could not be heard, and maybe— Maybe someone could feel where it was. The cries and screams and voices, patterns in string instruments overlaying the slow drone that was loneliness, patterns mathematically arranged, a location, a location, the castle, the storeroom in the castle— I don’t know why. I don’t know why, but I have to go. Yeah, into the Overlord’s old palace—I don’t know why—but there’s something I want and there’s something I need to find. When the door opened, finally, finally, the song was a melody of joy. H-hello? I don’t know why, but—is there someone here— Yes, me, me, I’m right here. I… feel you. Hear you? What’s this song… That’s me, I’m a song, hi, hello, will you be my new—it almost said master, but no one else could be Master, so it decided on a word it had only heard in passing—my new friend?...
The Trouble With NecromancyIt takes a village to raise an old lady from the dead. Her granddaughter Lydia, for access to the corpse; her old partner Silent, for the mementos he kept from her youth; young Bobby for his singing voice; and the police necromancer, Harla, for bits and bobs and spells and paperwork. She tries to fill out the paperwork now, while Silent arranges old letters and cardinal feathers and lumps of wax around the body; but her concentration is wavering, caught again and again by Bobby reaching out to move the spell components around. “What’s this?” he cries out, again and again. “What does this one do?” No one answers him: Lydia is sulking, Harla busy with the paperwork, and Silent only shakes his head; but Bobby is undeterred by the silence. He snatches the wax away, plays with it, puts it down somewhere else; again and again, Silent reshapes it and puts it back where it came from. It’s enough to drive Harla mad. “Are you almost done?” asks Lydia, so impatient Harla can hear the eye-roll in her voice. “Almost. Shush, Bobby. Have I spelled your grandmother’s name right?” Lydia barely glances at the page. “How many ways are there to spell Anna Rose?” “Just double-check, please. Bobby! Leave that be.” She’s starting to feel like the boy’s mother. She isn’t; he hasn’t got one; but someone needs to call back Anna Rose’s spirit, and Bobby’s voice is sweeter than anyone’s. At least, it is when he isn’t screeching. She winces as she lifts him bodily away from the deathbed, wishing she had a hand free to cover her ears. “Can we get started already?” Lydia hands the sheaf of paperwork back. Harla can only hope she’s double-checked it. “If Silent’s done laying out the spell components.” He is. What with Bobby’s constant interference, that amounts to a small miracle in itself. “All right,” says Harla. “Everyone hold hands. Bobby, start singing.” His hand is unpleasantly sticky in hers, but his voice is good. The red cardinal feather collapses into ash; the candles start to burn violet. Anna Rose breathes in, then out, then opens her eyes. It only takes her a moment to assess the situation. “Lydia!” she scolds, sitting up in bed. “Are you responsible for this? Didn’t you read my will, for goodness’ sake?” “I couldn’t help it,” Lydia whines. “The police wanted to raise you. Anyway, you never gave me the recipe for that peach cobbler, and I thought…” “Well! You’re certainly not getting it now!” The dead lady turns away with a huff, and her eye falls on Silent. “And what have you got to say for yourself, old friend?” Silent raises an eyebrow. “Owe you money, do I?” Silent grins. “Well, I suppose that’s fair,” says Anna Rose, in a tone that makes it clear that it isn’t. She turns next to Bobby. “Aren’t you that little boy who hangs around the well at all hours begging? How did they rope you into this?” “Mistress Harla gave me two whole silvers!” Bobby exclaims proudly. “And you’re happy to drag an old woman up from her well-deserved rest and into a body that’s not even alive anymore, just as long as someone pays you enough, hmm?” She holds out a hand. “Give them here, lad, or I’ll haunt your bones for a hundred years.” Bobby yelps and drops two sticky silver pieces into the dead woman’s palm. She turns and slaps them straight into Silent’s. “There. Debt’s paid.” Silent grins and pockets the money. Harla clears her throat. “This is a police investigation,” she says, feeling the ritual has rather gotten out of her control. “Anna Rose, I conjure you to…” “Hold up,” says Anna Rose. “I died in my sleep. You’re not investigating my murder, so why wait till I was dead to start asking questions?” Harla coughs. “The dead can be commanded to answer only truthfully. Anyway, you might have information from beyond the grave.” “Well, I’m not answering them,” says Anna Rose, and just like that she closes her eyes and dies again. Everything is rather awkward after that....
FFM Daily Prompts and Challenges
FFM Links - 31 July 2021Welcome to Flash Fiction Month, day 31.The final day of Flash Fiction Month is upon us, and with it comes your parting challenge! We hope you've had as much fun as we have. But don't go just yet! There's still judging to be done for the challenge writers (after which the our prize winners will be announced). And we're still looking for nominations for the Golden Mug Awards (which are open to every story, by every FFMer)! August is also the perfect time to catch up on all that reading and commenting you missed out on during the month of July. But before all that can happen one more story awaits. VIVA!, InstructionsFlash Fiction Month is about writing – and posting – a story between 55-1000 words in length every day during July. Each day we'll upload a deviation where you can post your story for the day, with optional prompts, and the occasional optional challenge.Paste a link to your flash fiction piece for July 31 in the comments below.If you write a story every day this month, and complete every challenge, you will enter the history books as a writer of singular purpose, unbowed and unshaken by the perils of flash fiction month. You could also win a prize! And if you wrote anything at all for FFM this year, remember the Golden Mug Awards are here to celebrate all our writers and their myriad approaches. So don't forget to nominate your own best story for the Golden Yarn, and the work of others for the myriad other awards up for grabs. When you upload your newly minted literature deviations remember to use these official FFM tags: #flashfictionmonth , #ffm2021, ,,Beginnings & EndingsWelcome to the inter-galactic flash fiction highway. Just beware the roadside trans-dimensional tentacles that might try to grab you and drag you screaming into the void of the unknown. If you need directions, remember your friendly pocket-Hydra is always just one click away.Now hurry up, and don't forget your towel! Myriad worlds and adventures await for your final challenge of the month. All you have to do is step through one of the following portals... , [PORTAL #1] - Well, well! You've chosen to find a collaborative partner for the next stage of your voyage! Clearly you're the kind of person who values safety in numbers. Or perhaps you just like having a spare traveller to throw to the wolves when things get hairy. Whatever your moral or personal predilections just click on the Portal link to proceed to the next checkpoint... [PORTAL #2]---- Hoo boy! You've chosen the path of the lone traveller! Looks like we've got a brave one on our hands. Perhaps you get things done better on your own. Or maybe you just don't have time for other people and their convoluted schedules. On the plus side there's no collateral damage to worry about, but on the downside, you won't have anyone to share your witty observations with (and they are so terribly witty). Either way, grab your gear and click on the Portal link to find out what happens next..., SOME CHALLENGE NOTESDecide which one challenge approach you would prefer before proceeding. If you want to try your hand at a Collaboration via portal #1, you can find a collaboration partner by posting a comment below advertising your availability, or better yet, by visiting the FFM Discord Channel and making use of our collaboration rooms for maximum efficiency!We know that the practicalities of collaboration can be trying with multiple time-zones, and schedules to account for, so we've uploaded this early and we're also giving everyone a full weekend to get their collaborations in order. Just make sure your story is uploaded by Monday the 2nd of August. It's really rewarding, and we hope you'll give it a try. We're also here to give any assistance you might need, so don't hesitate to ask. But if you'd rather to stick with the Response option via portal #2, then all you need to do is follow the link to find your instructions. Piece of cake! (Also just to be clear, each Portal name is a link that leads to the actual challenge elements for either a Collaborative or Response challenge. Sometimes the links don't show up on mobile DA, so browser is best.) If you've done the challenge remember to let us know by writing either "Collaboration Challenge" or "Response Challenge" next to the link for your submission. Not doing the challenge? No problem! Check out the optional prompts below! , Parting NoticesComments are the best motivation. Help boost the FFM community spirit, and take the time to read and comment on fellow FFMers work whenever you can. Now that you aren't writing every day, this is the perfect time to catch up on your reading and show your fellow writer's some appreciation. The FFM Discord Channel exists beyond July if you need a friendly global writer's hub. So if you haven't checked in yet, please do. Everyone is nice and friendly, and there's a strong NaNoWriMo crowd too. It never hurts to have a little community boost to hand when you're feeling down.Still haven't signed up for 31 days of flash fiction insanity? Alas, the event is now over. But there's always next year! Just head on over to our FFM FAQ, where the answers to all (or at least most) of your questions can be found, and give Flash-Fic-Month a watch in preparation for July 2022. Now that the main event is over WE NEED STORY SUGGESTIONS for the Golden Mug Awards. The GMA's are open to absolutely everyone who took part in the event, and we ask each of you to submit your favourite FFM stories, plus YOUR OWN BEST STORY for consideration.And next year we'll be needing volunteers for judging, and event organisation, so you have 11 months to mull things over and consider throwing your hat into the ring. ,...
FFM Links - 29 July 2021Welcome to Flash Fiction Month, day 29. What’s that you hear? No it isn’t Hydra’s collection of mix-tapes. That’s intro music, baby. Civilians beware, sounds like a superhero battle is about to commence. , InstructionsFlash Fiction Month is about writing – and posting – a story between 55-1000 words in length every day during July. Each day we'll upload a deviation where you can post your story for the day, with optional prompts, and the occasional optional challenge.Paste a link to your flash fiction piece for July 29 in the comments below.If you write a story every day this month, and complete every challenge you could win a prize! When you upload your newly minted literature deviations remember to use these official FFM tags: #flashfictionmonth, #ffm2021, ,,It’s a Bird! It’s a Plane!Your main character must be considered a superhero. (Or villain, if you’re feeling fiendish.) No guys in tech suits here, real abilities only.We can’t all fly: An unconventional form of transportation must appear somewhere in the story. Bonus element: An apathetic side-kick. If you've done the challenge remember to let us know by writing "Challenge" next to the link for your submission. Not doing the challenge? No problem! Check out the optional prompts below! , RemindersComments are the best motivation. Help boost the FFM community spirit, and take the time to read and comment on fellow FFMers work whenever you can. Inspire the masses! Donate prompts, music, and images to the 2021 Prompt Bank and help keep the writing doldrums at bay.Have questions? Need someone to complain to about the latest ridiculous challenge element? The FFM Discord Channel is the best place to be! No sign-ups necessary, just follow the link to dip a proverbial toe into the waters, and meet the local wildlife. The writers are mostly tame, promise. Still haven't signed up for 31 days of flash fiction insanity? It's probably a bit late, but there's always next year and we recommend a visit our FFM FAQ, where the answers to all (or at least most) of your questions reside.,...
FFM Links - 28 July 2021Welcome to Flash Fiction Month, day 28.Almost there! Just about half a week to go. You can do this! VIVA!, InstructionsFlash Fiction Month is about writing – and posting – a story between 55-1000 words in length every day during July. Each day we'll upload a deviation where you can post your story for the day, with optional prompts, and the occasional optional challenge. Paste a link to your flash fiction piece for July 28 in the comments below. If you write a story every day this month, and complete every challenge you could win a prize! When you upload your newly minted literature deviations remember to use these official FFM tags: #flashfictionmonth , #ffm2021, RemindersComments are the best motivation. Help boost the FFM community spirit, and take the time to read and comment on fellow FFMers work whenever you can. Inspire the masses! Donate prompts, music, and images to the 2021 Prompt Bank and help keep the writing doldrums at bay.Have questions? Need someone to complain to about the latest ridiculous challenge element? The FFM Discord Channel is the best place to be! No sign-ups necessary, just follow the link to dip a proverbial toe into the waters, and meet the local wildlife. The writers are mostly tame, promise. Still haven't signed up for 31 days of flash fiction insanity? Head on over to the 2021 Sign-Up Page, and offer up your name. We also recommend a visit our FFM FAQ, where the answers to all (or at least most) of your questions reside.,...
FFM 2021
FFM 2021 #28 - Dark CovenantOnce upon a time, that’s how it’s supposed to start, isn’t it? Once upon a time, there was a couple. It always begins like that… sorry. This couple wanted a child; well really they needed an heir.But it was a girl that was born and though they should have been glad, they were disappointed. As she aged, the girl seemed destined to be… less than attractive. Her parents found every opportunity to berate her; for her awkwardness, her gender and her looks. Mostly her looks. Her mother was a beauty and could not bear having a child who did not look anything but gorgeous.As the child turned 7, her mother was pregnant again and this time the much anticipated son was born. He was as handsome as she was plain, with golden hair and beautiful chiseled features. She tried to gain her parents’ love by becoming knowledgeable in science, literature, History, even politics though it wasn’t usually meant for girls. But they only had eyes for her little brother. Beauty was the sole measure of worth.As she met some men who would broker an alliance with her family, she discovered the game was the same. She heard what they called her, the names they used to describe her. So she left her home to seek a power that would make her beautiful… She found it; but it came at a price.The sorcerer who taught her… he gave her a mirror; it wasn’t really a mirror. But it passed for one. And that is how everyone thinks of that… thing. But it was a covenant. She would be powerful and beautiful; but she must feed the mirror with what she wished to obtain so it would reflect it back to her.At first she didn’t really understand what it meant… but she did, real quick. And it was awful. Had she not known the price she would pay if she didn’t satisfy the mirror, she would have stopped before she even began. She found young boys and girls, whose parents no longer wanted, or could no longer care for. Famine had spread and many had little to go by. They wouldn’t be missed. She fed the mirror youth and beauty; what he took from these children, he gave back to her. She cried a lot at first… but after a while she lost count. She grieved for them but… It wasn’t enough though; she only got beauty from them. So she approached small merchants, businessmen - greedy men who thought a young woman could be taken advantage of. They wouldn’t be missed, these leeches who preyed on the vulnerable. And they gave her the aura of power she needed. But bourgeoisie wasn’t enough… not if she wanted to change the way of the world. She must marry into royalty and for that… even if she was born of noble blood, she wasn’t acknowledged as such. She didn’t meet her family; not at first. It seemed… warped. But it was so tempting to see if her parents would recognize her. They didn’t. And she couldn’t help but notice how cruel her brother was to his people; spoiled as he had been, he saw nothing of the hardships people faced, and had he seen them she wondered if he’d have cared. They faced the mirror too. She begged its spirit not to swallow it all. They lived, but it left them as poor as the young children she first fed it.And she was powerful enough to attract a king’s interest: a widower with a very much desired young daughter.She wanted to love that child; and in fact she did… for many years. You will hear say that she was jealous. She wasn’t. Though in time she grew worried… the king doted on his daughter but, as she aged, so his love changed. And the child was spoiled. Much like her brother. She attempted to bring some balance to the child, a bit of firmness where her father would allow anything. Some rules and lessons so the girl would learn that beauty doesn’t suffice. And she was beautiful, that child. She might yet become a beautiful person if she was given the opportunity. When the king got sick… well, it went so fast. Whatever took him was quick. He didn’t suffer much but it was difficult.And then, the mirror demanded her most beautiful stepdaughter. And she couldn’t do it. It was too much of a price.So she tasked a huntsman to guide her daughter to a safe place and to bring her a heart in exchange. Maybe, she might convince the mirror she had tried to do as demanded. It was unlikely but… It didn’t work. And slowly but surely, her power and beauty ebbed. As it did, the spirit of the mirror grew stronger, took a shape of its own. Her shape… and it wanted the girl. Desperately. You know the rest of the story, how the girl survived multiple attempts on her life, eventually gaining a royal husband. She got her happily ever after. And somehow the spirit of the mirror was destroyed. I’m not sure it was… it was made too weak but it will find a way back some day.The Queen… tried to continue to change the conditions of her people… in some ways she succeeded, not in others. And as she aged, people forgot she once was beautiful. The fairest of them all. She was still fair… in her judgments and rulings. It was her wisdom her people sought....
Contests, Promotions, Etc
FFM 2021 Challenge Winners!At last we are here to reveal the challenge winners of Flash Fiction Month 2021!To be eligible for the community-funded prize pool, writers needed to have completed all 31 days and all 14 challenges. Each week we asked you to choose your best and brightest challenge stories. These stories were submitted to various rounds of judging, where they poked and prodded, and their little story hearts were weighed on Anubis' scales to discover if they were +/- the weight of a feather.You know, all the standard stuff. For the thirteenth year running Flash Fiction Month is proud to reveal four overall winners based on the total challenge scores for the entirety of the month! The numbers have been tallied, and the tallies have been numbered, and now they have become sentient and started singing the praises of various writers. It's all a bit alarming to be honest.(On account of Eclipse, this is best viewed on a computer; we can't guarantee the behavior of formatting gremlins in any other format.)Introducing the Champions of Flash Fiction Month 2021 ,RReaping's End She runs. Left, left, left again; turns mean more @GDeyke Every year @GDeyke amazes us with their consummate skill. Their stories are gorgeous, lyrical, and full of strange wonders. ,FFFM 2021 #20 PerspectiveA creature lived in Eden. It did not know @NobodysSon @NobodySon may be new to our FFM shores, but they fit right in like they belonged, wowing us throughout the month with their excellent stylistic tones, and folkloric story elements.,DDevotion and DesireThere was a boy who fell in love with the ocean: @bookcrusher @bookcrusher tackles the everyday and the strange with equal skill, always grounding their work in real and relatable emotions and characters.Their stories are guaranteed to make you laugh, and cry, and warm your heart in equal measure.,PPanic Attack You can’t breathe. You’re dying; there’s no other @Francsart Another newcomer in our midst! @Francsart impressed us right out the gate, often hooking us from the very first line, and subverting our narrative expectations.Their stories were were dark, and eloquent, and always packed a punch. Honorable Mentions Check out these incredible tales from our runners up! @Teela-Y, @LeaderPinhead, @WizardandGalaxy, and @SerenityFeueropal ,TThe Wish Not Granted [FFM #22, 2021]Earl reached into the clear, gently chlorinatedAA Wolf and Little Red “Sir Wolf, I beg you to eat me now.” Farrar eyedFFFM 2021 Day 15: To Suffer The SeaXe strides along the bleached sands, a sharpenedDDay 6 - DemonsLast night, I went to bed with a stranger, alcoholCongratulations!The four winners will be contacted via note over the next few days to arrange their prizes in the form of this excellent beverage holder. ,But wait, there's more!There are always so many great stories to choose from each challenge week, and it would be a shame not to share them for the consumption of the masses. So without further ado, here are some of the challenge stories that impressed us each week. Week One Favourites @squanpie @Francsart @NobodysSon ,FFFM3 2021 - A Chance Encounter Ethan slouched in the booth and twirled one ofTTwo Hours in the Future [FFM 21 1st]You can see your future. Daria swallowed it twoFFFM 2021 #3 Farming Will Be the Death of MeThe farmer arrived at his field mid-morning, when Week Two Favourites @NobodysSon @bookcrusher @Teela-Y ,FFFM 2021 #6 A People PersonHi, friend! Up here! Yeah, up here on top of theDDave, The BraveWhen he realized his name rhymed with ‘brave’RRainbow on an Autumn Day [FFM #8 2021]As he stood there in the quasi grey-light of the Week Three Favorites @LeaderPinhead @SarcasticCupcake5 @Francsart ,AA Wolf and Little Red “Sir Wolf, I beg you to eat me now.” Farrar eyedFFavorite ShirtShe won’t know, when he picks out the littleJJonathan It all begun when he brought me into the bedroom. Week Four Favourites @Tealya @GDeyke @bookcrusher,YYour Mothers SunshineThe room had been painted a warm, sunny yellowMMares' Milk I milk the mares every morning. It’s harder thanCCome for a midnight danceAnd waltz with us who guard the forest. Join us Week Five Favourites @Irennia @MyLovingWife @LeaderPinhead ,FFFM 2021 Day 27: LieWe wished to be free. No, I wished to be free. ButFFFM 2021 #27 - Cecilia2051.04.11 Hello my darling, You must just haveHHue-mun “This isn’t my body,” he thought. He pinched his But wait! There's STILL more!Stick around for a couple more days as we prepare to announce the community-tested and Hydra-approved recipients of the Second Annual Golden Mug Awards!VIVA!...
The Gauntlet: Going BerserkSorry, this contest is closed! +Watch this account if you haven't so you won't miss the announcement of the winners.Come hither, come hither one and all for our long-awaited Gauntlet! Our last edition of this flash-fiction writing contest was a while ago now, but all the sweeter for its absence will it taste this month. Prithee make yourselves comfortable and partake of our smorgasbord of merciless prompts! That’s right, once more we challenge the stalwart writers among you to hop aboard and make name for yourselves. Awaiting your penmanship are nine consecutive prompts, each more bone-chilling, knee-capping, blood-eaglingly gruesome than the lastSo bang your shields, bare your teeth (strip to the waist, if you absolutely have to) and vow on Odin’s name to establish dominance cost what may. Those emerging victorious will carry home the spoils as listed up below, and those who fall in battle will – by shapely Valkyries – be shown to their place in Valhalla, Dominance over all your writer friends doesn’t have to come from fame and glory alone, and for that we’ve raided some monasteries and come up with the followingFIRST PLACE gets1 chibi sketch by @KaenBlue (via @Asahi-TaichouPoints package from Community Relations500 points from @Zara-Arletis (via @BATTLEFAIRIES500 points from @BeckyKidus (via @BATTLEFAIRIES1 feature by @BeckyKidus1 feature by @Asahi-Taichou1 feature by @FlashFictionMonth1 critique from @neurotype3 diamond badges from @Zara-Arletis1 diamond badge and 1 emerald badge from @neurotypeSECOND PLACE getsPoints package from Community Relations300 points from @Zara-Arletis (via @BATTLEFAIRIES300 points from @BeckyKidus (via @BATTLEFAIRIES1 feature by @Asahi-Taichou1 feature by @FlashFictionMonth1 critique from @neurotype2 diamond badges from @Zara-Arletis1 diamond badge from @neurotypeTHIRD PLACE getsPoints package from Community Relations150 points from @Zara-Arletis (via @BATTLEFAIRIES150 points from @BeckyKidus (via @BATTLEFAIRIES1 feature by @Asahi-Taichou1 feature by @FlashFictionMonth1 critique from @neurotype1 diamond badge from @Zara-Arletis1 diamond badge from @neurotypeHONOURABLE MENTION getsPoints package from Community Relations50 points from @Zara-Arletis (via @BATTLEFAIRIES50 points from @BeckyKidus (via @BATTLEFAIRIES1 feature by @Asahi-Taichou1 emerald badge from @Zara-Arletis1 emerald badge from @neurotypeSELECT INDIVIDUALS getMystery stuff from the Mystery Fairy, for reasons MysteriouEVERYONE gets a special Vikings honorific, depending on their rankingAS FOR THE RULESTake heed and no-one will need to have their lodbroks rustledThe challenges must be taken in order, so no skipping any.Follow the challenges’ specifications to the letter.Link to your finished works in this journal's comments.No submissions after the deadline: Februari 9thJUDGING happens as followsOur flawless judges will award scores both for adherence to the prompt and for creativity and impact, with a flat bonus for each successfully finished entry. Taking up their grisly duties this year are@neurotype@Malintra-Shadowmoon@The-Inklingand yours truly, Now without further adoHERE ARE YOUR CHALLENGES 1: Needs More Pirate (1000 words or lessWrite a suspenseful espionage thriller scene in your setting of choice – could be any time or place in history – but add one parrot-toting*, rum-guzzling, Caribbean pirate 2: Supersonik, Elektronik (1500 words or lessThe year is 2000-something and human colonisation of space is well underway. Sadly, the aesthetic has evolved backwards to resemble something like this clip by Zlad!. Space is still pretty much a dangerous place however, and so your story will tell an adventurous, musical and oh, so very sexy tale of getting stranded on a hostile planet. Replace all your hard c’s by k’s and have the main kharakter all their verbs in kompletely wrong places say. 3: It’s Your Destiny, Eh (Between 700 and 1400 wordsIn this fantastic Sword&Sorcery story, you explore the Chosen One trope… but your Chosen can be neither young, pure, or lucky! Include an animal helper that sides with whichever character last said something, and a strong, boozing character with a heavy accent and an axe who is NOT a dwarf.All objects used for the offensive are named after the sound they make, and your story resolves itself in an explosion that is not of the Chosen One’s doing. For added difficulty, include four different eighteen-letter words, which must appear at the beginning of a sentence 4: Quoth the Raven: “Encore” (700 words, exactlyDig up your inner (so not the actual) E.A. Poe and write some gorgeous Gothic fiction with notions of inevitable death! Romance! Mental anguish! … where the narrator gets visited by a talking animal which may or may not have been (but most definitely is; the judges will notice) Megalosaurus bucklandii. For added difficulty, our dinosaur only knows words with ‘e’ in them. For contrast, your narrator can’t use any e’s in their own dialogue. Include in this story four kinds of tea, no two of which are in the same sentence 5: Extraordinariest! (Less than 1000 words, but must be a prime number… In which a suddenly genocidal Sir David Attenborough has decided it’s time to thin out the human population some, all the time doing what he does best: providing his trademark commentary. Just remember: Sir Attenborough can’t use numbers, names of animals, and all his adjectives have to be superlatives. Moreover, all his lines start and end with a vowel. Wrap up your story with a moralising message which, if acted out, would spell certain doom for humanity 6: Wittypedia (1 partial sentence; see examplesThink up 1 (one) pithy entry for tl;dr wikipedia. You can’t use the words ‘which’, ‘what’ or ‘when’ 7: This Hamlet is Too Small For Your Lordship and Myself Both (888 words and a half, exactlyNot much of a difference between cowboys and medieval knights, what with them wearing spurs, riding their horses up and down the countryside and occasionally challenging each other to a duel... There’s no reason why we can’t substitute one for the other in this story about a sheriff, an outlaw and the power of either Friendship, Virginity, the Counterpoise Trebuchet, or any combination of the aforementioned. Include no fewer than three elaborate insults, genre ‘your lordship could not poor water from a sabaton if his lordship’s armorer hath provided instructions on the sole’ and one time-traveling ancient Roman onlooker, who shall comment (will have had commented?) on events in reverse chronology. Our Roman friend can’t say the letters ‘u’ and ‘w’ very well so substitute these with a ‘v’ and a ‘vv’ respectively. Your characters can’t say the same word twice! Also, for some weird reason all of your letter u’s which are not part of any dialogue have umlauts on them 8: Just Because I Can (18 lines; see textWrite a scary bedtime story for grown men about the creature Jolene, but in verse! Eight syllables per line, if you please, and spell out Jolene’s name three times with the first letter of each 9: Attending a Burial At Sea (AnyConjure up a captivating tale taking place aboard a whaler ship, and include three different euphemisms for taking a poop. Every third word, when read separately, needs to form a story of its own, Now, we fight! This is how we win, and this is how we die! Can I have an 'Odinnnnn!'* = It has been brought to my attention that 'pirate-toting' is a bit complicated. It is changed to parrot-toting, which was what yours truly had in mind when setting out to write this journal and failing to catch the error. Not to worry: the most important thing is that you nail the pirate stereotype; parrots are encouraged but won't cause you to lose points or anything if they aren't in the picture...
General Flash Fiction
A Drop Of Seraphim Is All You NeedSeraphim is another Rabbitine analog or whatever the hell you call these types of drugs.I mean don't get me wrong, Seraphim definitely doesn't match Rabbitine and honestly, the comedown is a little intense for me (haven't tried many Rabbitine-like drugs) but it's so beautiful in this visceral horrifying way., One drop of Seraphim, around a teaspoon of Rabbitine, and mix well in water.After gulping that all down, you immediately feel this sense of agonizing relief flow through you. There's no hallucinations anything like that, unlike Rabbitine and the stuff like Rabbitine, but just this relief flowing into you. It fills your stomach with this anxious energy and pop; you feel a hole being formed right in the center of your body.It's like your mind knows there's a hole there and it's just a hole, but you can't help but try to understand it. It's because Seraphim makes the hole in a certain way that it causes you to want and need to fill it in, in a certain way. The relief and anxiety build-up, but you can't run because it's in your head and the relief has relaxed every part of your body.Not even your eyes feel like they're under your control. You're adrift on one of the worst voyages in your life, yet the relief keeps you from fully breaking down. Then you realize the hole is shrinking but as it shrinks, it's like the frame of your body is messed up and now everything about you is adrift. You no longer feel anxiety but the absolute terror that's mixed with this primal bliss, primal peace, and primal warmth.The hole now is so small it's like it can now easily penetrate the blood-brain barrier and it does or makes you think it does. Now you're stuck in memories being mixed with memories of things that haven't happened, but you know that in the moment. It's like being yanked back and forth through beautiful sunny days and the absolute lowest peaks of your life with no pause in between. The worst part is that absolute terror and primal bliss are still there. You no longer can tell the tale-tell signs of a Rabbitine high and instead are stuck, just stuck.In those flashes of false memories mixed with real memories, the terror, and the peace, something new starts to form. You know these flashes aren't even in your eyes, but directly in your head. Then the idea forms and then it's real. A genuine angel made from your drug-induced insanity and you know it's not real but it doesn't matter because you are stuck, there's no changing that.It reaches out to you but you know that all it is, is some random nerves in your brain being mixed up because of that hit of Rabbitine and Seraphim you did. There's no hallucination, just an idea that you let go wild in your head, and for a second, you feel that terror overtakes your peace. But that second is fleeting, and the angel is starting to grow.Your little trip to the past and to a fake past are being tainted by this angel, and you can't stop it. It genuinely feels like you're going to have every single thought in your head taken over by just one fucking idea. Then it stops and you see it.Even if your eyes can't, you can and you stare at it. All you see is just a mess of things. Things from your past, churches, crosses, pictures, and paintings of Jesus, colored glass, saints, devils, angels, and more and more and more. You think it should look like a chaotic piece of shit all together, but it all clicks together perfectly and it is terrifying. It is awe-inspiring and every other word you can use would probably perfectly describe it. Then that's it. , That was my experience with Seraphim and it was honestly shorter than I expected it to be after I reached the "peak". Some headaches once you start really coming down and occasionally if I see a church or an old classmate, it's like that experience is just shoved right in the middle of my thoughts, but definitely not as bad as Bear/Bearadone. Though never tried Sera without a little bit of Rabbit just to balance out everything since you can't be too risky with these Rabbit-like drugs. For more stories on Rabbitine and other Rabbitine-like substances, click here
Free Singing LessonsYou see them everytime. Faithful young men and women with no fear of the future but their religion or strong personal beliefs that aren't tempted by evil but by the ever present storm in the hearts of man. All a member of 'God's Personal Choir' has to for the men is tell them about a future so much brighter than the one they had and one closer to God than they could ever, reading a mere book that is merely a translation of a translation of falsification. They believe this because the name of the group isn't wrong, nor are they inherently evil. In the name way, a prion has no evil. It's merely a misshaped protein that turns other proteins into misshaped proteins. God isn't in the books, they say, instead in the water of the soul. The young men laugh with the righteous vigor and naivety that comes with youth. Then they are asked "one song, one song and that's all it'll take for you to see God, the true God, the one that whispers to you salvation that you ignore" and they will say yes not out of interest but out of challenge. They will hear God reverberate throughout their mind, body and soul, constantly. That's why they chose them. Their faith strengthens their immunity to disbelief. Allowing the seed of truth and not just truth, but absolute truth to be planted. The young women are usually the same, but offered a path that is less strict than the path of Christianity. And onto the true path of God, they are planted in. , Many wonder why people can even believe in any Abrahamic religions as they seem like fairy tales propagated by ignorant people. This is because they are merely watered-down versions of the truth. There's a common thing in manufacturing certain foodstuffs that being watering down a product, not to make more profit but because it wouldn't be edible at its original concentration such as vinegar. Today, on their own, Abrahamic religions can be taken as ways to understand and rationalize death. Who can truly judge? After all, beliefs shape our reality and people merely shape our beliefs. You can't understand someone else's reality and if that reality comes with no harm to others, are they wrong in believing it? The GPC, however (God's Personal Choir), are individuals who have seen beyond the era long deterioration of the Abrahamic religions. They've seen God and have paid the price for it while also gaining so much. Now not everyone can even see members of the GPC, nor are they a unified group. You must have certain "instabilities" and characteristics. That doesn't matter since there are no concrete criteria for how they pick their “new members”, at least in our eyes. , Finally, let's touch upon what happens to a person after "this" happens to them. They may remain normal, become a bit more overzealous in their faith/local religious community, etc. On a more "paranormal" level, you could say the skies the limit. I've seen people who could endure half a dozen bullets straight to the head and, once killed, would merely just transfer their memories to the nearest corpse. Beings made of a fractal fog that merely chirped, the awful chirp of God.People who use the water around them like tuning forks to spread their message through a never ending buzzing.Singers who weaponized their voices to use against others making you feel the impulse to castrate yourself in the name of God. And so much more. The amount of variety, different beliefs and all that made me wonder if the GPC was truly following God, but I realized I never really questioned it. Everyone in my field and this "side" have heard God in some way or the other, and maybe that's why we don't question it. We've been partially fucked, but just not enough to fully count as GPC. At least they aren't the militia. Nobody can handle those cocky Zero-G floating fucks....
Don't Worry This is Just Broken Up Deja VuTo move forward in the world, world, you need sacrifice.  To even endure living is a sacrifice, but things like even jobs are ritualistic sacrifices of the self and others just to even move boxes. Did you think because you don't crack the whip, push quotas, pay dollars for hours of work that your freedom is truly free? Did you think your suffering and happiness don't perpetuate others happiness and suffering?  I remember a man, his name was Rob. He was my boss. What an amazing person Rob was and what a horrible person he was. His kindness did not take more than anyone else's kindness did nor did his cruelty, which I barely saw did. In a horrible incident, his wife, his two daughters and his merely two-year-old son, died. It was a car accident; it was painful, their suffering was not short and there was hope. The road was icy, and they were going to mountains because the two girls loved skiing and were very well versed in the sport. Rob loved talking about how great they were in a way that wasn't annoying but oddly endearing. They were not spared. The youngest died first as they were left for days in a ruined car that fell all the way to the bottom. Obscured, hidden.  It took a while for Rob to learn about this, but he was worried why they didn't call him, pick up or anything. It didn't take long to find them and Rob died that day. As if he never was alive beforehand, he died. Every atom in him was broken because a dead man can't judge whether or not he feels dead. Only the living can. His absolute grief and senselessness radiated through the office, and then he cried. It was not a long cry; it was not a primal cry that showed his despair, yet that lapse of time broke everyone. Everyone in the office, with even the smallest bond, social string, emotional thread to him, broke.  We could not comfort him because the most compassionate person in our office had left the day before. They all left one by one slowly, like runny molasses. I stayed.  A hidden doctrine was awoken in me by the deal Rob forced me into. I had to watch to be the observer, to be the sinless being which watches the ape tragically mourning its dead pack mates egotistically, apathetically. But I did so out of his grief, devouring me. I had to watch every moment of his; I had to merely watch him look back at me as he climbed through a window and never made it back to me.  The reason why no one in the office blamed was simple: his emails kept being sent to us, which was explained by him planning this. He planned for one of us to watch and to pre-write hundreds if not thousands of emails in case of his death, which were then rewritten because of this situation according to him.  In my apartment I realized hunger and I realized dreams. Rob became a God and the office a dream. It implanted memories into me that were totally real and Rob's suffering did happen. His suffering is not invalidated, I merely invalidated my own placement. I ran.  I realized hunger can, in fact, cause harm onto others. Someone else watched Rob die and that someone would have never seen that or met Rob if I had merely stayed in my place.  I now wanted to make money. Too much money, infinite money. I would stop suffering with money. I would revolutionize the world with money. I would revolt against pain.  Eventually I realized that I no longer had a social security card as I never had been born. I had lost that in my old place. I had nowhere to go to. I devoured everything to gain nothing.  I never had anything, I realized. I wasn't a shell of a man, but air that filled that shell. That shell's name was Charly, or, well, his new name. He took it up because it was the name of his former lover, because before being a shell, he was a woman. I say he but I prefer to me when I say he for even if I'm air, air likes to be noticed.  Charly with a y became Charlie and she one day realized parts of her true identity, or lack thereof. She transitioned, but the tragedy was that she could never go back to what she had. She had not just run from the death in a coworker's family and that coworker's suicide but from death itself. She bullied her fellow students when she was younger.  The doctrine of normality was her God and God bless her, for she was a God-fearing saint. The reason for this, as she later learned, was that she was lesbian, then bisexual and finally she realized she identified more as a man and was bisexual as well.  The world hated Charlie just as it hated everyone and thus it decided to make a tragic multilayered joke out of her/him/them instead of granting them their wish guilt-free. Though did the Charlie that existed before they left their place still them? Perhaps the excess amount of air a shell has is actually needed to preserve what's inside, even if it's barely anything?  I am not Charlie, nor am I air, anymore. I am me and me, desires the destruction of all humans, starting with thoses who are me.  I met I in a dingy bar. I was drunk but very talkative, so I bashed their head in a half a dozen times and I was left bleeding, bruised and, more importantly, saddened. I was lost and confused.  A FALSE MESSIAH was born, and I slaughtered that idea with merely a drop of blood, a pencil, and some paper. Ideas need rituals to survive. The body is a ritual based on flesh, a thing distant from ideas but still an integral part of them usually used as a storage device. I figured out how to use the deformed flesh I was leftover with to get new flesh. I stole meat, treats and more. The supermarkets had enough to grant me mass.  Thus, I became a man, one of the few to manifest. Thus I needed an Eve. Thus I did not pick Charlie, for her path was far from insanity's. She was happy and is happy. Instead I picked the gun from a nearby policeman's holster who was trying to shoot and the rapidly expanding column of flesh that was oddly iron and cellulose rich, slowly weaving a body inside it. I didn't name the gun and granted it the lack of freedom it always had. Instead, I decided to shift this moment. The policeman had a schizophrenic breakdown that caused him to see what he saw and, to be fair; he did. What the cop did not know was that he had an increased chance of having schizophrenia because he was the bastard incest child of his father and aunt who was known for irrational outbursts. She was never diagnosed properly and no one ever decided to break the doctrine to push for it. They weren't God-fearing, just born into it. He was a good officer but now an even better father and community leader. I do not have any agency of my own. Air can become man, but man never had freedom. Man, in the form of pixels, can not be liberated.  Thus I decided to die.  I decided to create a grandiose ritual in which I preserve myself, like a whole deer, whose meat is perfectly prepared and salted for the long winter ahead of us. I can not live without oxygen, so I stole yours.  Thank you for giving me enough to breathe a little longer and I wish I could sacrifice myself to gain all I want, but I can't defy the law of flame. Kindle can not make more kindles nor stay ablaze for years to come. If you so please, you can light a fire yourself and allow other people to stare into it, but will it appease all that remains of you is an image burned into people's eyes?  Some men understand this and accept this and instead enjoy the beauty of their eternal legacy. Those men exist as fires now, not even campsite hot dogs to petty or rangers who marvel at.  Rob was the trade. The punished. The virgin. The innocent.  I wish I could stop it, Rob. I wish I could shut down the lottery, Rob. I wish your particles a farewell and I hope your soul finds happiness. I wish that you didn't exist stuck in memos, eternally reminding us in  unsubtle ways that everything is fine. I wish you didn't have to worry about life insurance, something I only know now because I stared into the sun. I wish your company was still you. I wish my dreams could even pale in comparison to your kind aura. I wish for death to never reap.  That's why I'm dying and already dead.  Thus, to save myself I will repeat myself and as for you, well, it’s time for you to take your much needed break or lack thereof!...
FFM 2020
Midnight Hornet - FFM 2020, Day 31“It’s late, why aren’t you sleeping?”The small creature who had just flown into the bathroom from the dark outside through the open window ignored her, instead crashing into the ceiling lamp repeatedly. Its loud, distinctive buzz filled the white-tiled room, and she was quite certain what it was.She grabbed the empty water cup and a flat sample package of lotion, and climbed up onto the edge of the bathtub.The almost finger-sized insect moved fast, but its golden-black hues were unmistakeable, and she found herself shy of getting too close, which along with its frenzied back-and-forth made it impossible to capture.Until it crashed right into her face.“FU-”She flinched back, barely keeping her balance. She didn’t want to agitate the insect more, and resisted the urge to swat at it as it clung to the bridge of her glasses, before it seemed to get its bearings and took off again.But it had been enough.This was no insect.She climbed down from the bathtub, getting a safer distance between it and herself, never taking her eyes off it. This would be a bit easier.She fetched a bowl of cream, and held it out to the creature. It didn’t seem to notice at first, or maybe it was shy; she set the bowl down by the sink, and after a minute, it did come down from the ceiling, buzzed around the bowl for a moment, and finally sat down on its edge, leaning forward on slender, gold-and-black limbs to drink.She picked the bowl up gently, careful not to wobble it, and gently placed it on the floor outside the front door. The creature didn’t move from the spot.Then she went back indoors, made sure all the windows were tightly closed, and went to bed.
Tribble Month Daily Posts
TM Day 30: FarewellThis is it, you made it, you’ve reached the top of Everest, the edge of the world, the end of the rainbow, the dark side of the moon! Aren’t you a titan, you awesome writer you!,Let us know, did you make it? Did you enjoy the suffering, the fun, the reckless creativity? We certainly hope you did. Until the next one, go ahead, you’ve earned your rest One last time for the road, if you want to review what happened for the past 30 days, here's a refresher of what Tribble Month is all about!____________________________________________________________________________FAQWhat is Tribble Month?A lower suffering-inducing Hydra head sprouted from Flash Fiction Month that forces its penitent souls to write stories between 50-300 words long through the month of September. Because clearly a month full of full flash stories isn’t enough once per year.Do the stories need to follow a particular topic/theme?As this is each individual’s self-imposed penance, they’re free to choose the flavor of their own poison. There will be a daily suggested topic prompt if the hellish fires don’t allow some to think clearly—an understandable circumstance in these grounds.How do I take part?After you’ve offered a price for your soul, you can comment in the sign-up page conveniently linked right here. Thereon it’s all hell loose literary bliss!Do I need to use the daily prompts and challenges?As mentioned above, each victim voluntary participant can decide whether to use the provided daily prompt or not. The same goes for the challenges. Whether you want to add more coal to the fires is up to you.How do I submit my story?You can copy/paste the link of your published story in the comments below each daily condemnation motivational message.Anything else I should do or know?Hell or not, everyone likes some praise and encouragement, so as momma Hydra used to say: “A comment a day keeps the heads at bay!”I have a hard time keeping to challenges, is there any support?For additional cheers, hurrahs, and extra pushes, follow the lake of fire to the FFM Discord Server and check into the Tribble Month Channel for a lift in morale and a sip of water.____________________________________________________________________________Day 30 Prompt: FarewellEverything comes to an end at some point, so inevitably, we have to say goodbye and hopefully see you around—unless, of course, you don’t want to see them around, then yeah, you figure that one out. Tell of a time you’ve had to say farewell, how was it, bittersweet, tragic, neutral, couldn’t be happier? Let us know one last time!,
TM Day 29: The Last BattleLike the day before the battle against the white walkers, or the second to last episode of Stranger Things, or the battle between Aang and the Fire Lord, we are at the brink of this month before the grand closing. Whether you’ve written every single story, half, or just made it through ⅓ of the first tribble, this Hydra sprout is proud of each and every one of you for even attempting this event. Let’s finish this strong!,You can do this, so don’t even bother, just review the section below if you have questions or just skip right to the story!____________________________________________________________________________FAQWhat is Tribble Month?A lower suffering-inducing Hydra head sprouted from Flash Fiction Month that forces its penitent souls to write stories between 50-300 words long through the month of September. Because clearly a month full of full flash stories isn’t enough once per year.Do the stories need to follow a particular topic/theme?As this is each individual’s self-imposed penance, they’re free to choose the flavor of their own poison. There will be a daily suggested topic prompt if the hellish fires don’t allow some to think clearly—an understandable circumstance in these grounds.How do I take part?After you’ve offered a price for your soul, you can comment in the sign-up page conveniently linked right here. Thereon it’s all hell loose literary bliss!Do I need to use the daily prompts and challenges?As mentioned above, each victim voluntary participant can decide whether to use the provided daily prompt or not. The same goes for the challenges. Whether you want to add more coal to the fires is up to you.How do I submit my story?You can copy/paste the link of your published story in the comments below each daily condemnation motivational message.Anything else I should do or know?Hell or not, everyone likes some praise and encouragement, so as momma Hydra used to say: “A comment a day keeps the heads at bay!”I have a hard time keeping to challenges, is there any support?For additional cheers, hurrahs, and extra pushes, follow the lake of fire to the FFM Discord Server and check into the Tribble Month Channel for a lift in morale and a sip of water.____________________________________________________________________________Day 29 Prompt: The Last BattleIn all great stories, especially adventures, there’s always this one moment that will define the rest to come. What is that crucial event to you? Is it a great battle? If so, is it a literal battle or something more abstract and figurative? Whatever that may be, make us catch our breath!,
TM Day 28: CHALLENGE #4!I mean, if you’ve made it THIS far, there’s really no point in stopping. You’ve already gone through three, so why not complete the last CHALLENGE of this the first edition of Tribble Month? I think you can take it, so let’s do this!,If you’re ready for the final stand challenge-wise, flex those wrists and crack those knuckles because we’re going in! If you need a little refresher, and perhaps a reassurance, read the next section to see what Tribble Month is about.____________________________________________________________________________FAQWhat is Tribble Month?A lower suffering-inducing Hydra head sprouted from Flash Fiction Month that forces its penitent souls to write stories between 50-300 words long through the month of September. Because clearly a month full of full flash stories isn’t enough once per year.Do the stories need to follow a particular topic/theme?As this is each individual’s self-imposed penance, they’re free to choose the flavor of their own poison. There will be a daily suggested topic prompt if the hellish fires don’t allow some to think clearly—an understandable circumstance in these grounds.How do I take part?After you’ve offered a price for your soul, you can comment in the sign-up page conveniently linked right here. Thereon it’s all hell loose literary bliss!Do I need to use the daily prompts and challenges?As mentioned above, each victim voluntary participant can decide whether to use the provided daily prompt or not. The same goes for the challenges. Whether you want to add more coal to the fires is up to you.How do I submit my story?You can copy/paste the link of your published story in the comments below each daily condemnation motivational message.Anything else I should do or know?Hell or not, everyone likes some praise and encouragement, so as momma Hydra used to say: “A comment a day keeps the heads at bay!”I have a hard time keeping to challenges, is there any support?For additional cheers, hurrahs, and extra pushes, follow the lake of fire to the FFM Discord Server and check into the Tribble Month Channel for a lift in morale and a sip of water.____________________________________________________________________________Day 28 Prompt: CHALLENGE #4 - Haiku Formatted StoryFor this last challenge, we’re going to truly define what micro-fiction truly is! If you choose to complete the final challenge, you are to write a story using the haiku poem 5-7-5 format. Don’t know what haiku is? See the references here and here. You don’t need to follow the strict rules of haiku, just the 5-7-5 structure to tell us a story. Blow our minds away with what you can come up with in just 17 syllables!,
TM Day 27: Who Are You?Three days to call it a wrap, THREE DAYS! So, what do you want your wrap to taste like, honey mustard victory or white vinegar bitter? You choose!,If you have completely blanked out as to what you’re doing and why, it’s ok, that’s totally understandable. You and the new victims who have happened to stumble upon our humble venue can take a look at the section below to know what Tribble Month is about.____________________________________________________________________________FAQWhat is Tribble Month?A lower suffering-inducing Hydra head sprouted from Flash Fiction Month that forces its penitent souls to write stories between 50-300 words long through the month of September. Because clearly a month full of full flash stories isn’t enough once per year.Do the stories need to follow a particular topic/theme?As this is each individual’s self-imposed penance, they’re free to choose the flavor of their own poison. There will be a daily suggested topic prompt if the hellish fires don’t allow some to think clearly—an understandable circumstance in these grounds.How do I take part?After you’ve offered a price for your soul, you can comment in the sign-up page conveniently linked right here. Thereon it’s all hell loose literary bliss!Do I need to use the daily prompts and challenges?As mentioned above, each victim voluntary participant can decide whether to use the provided daily prompt or not. The same goes for the challenges. Whether you want to add more coal to the fires is up to you.How do I submit my story?You can copy/paste the link of your published story in the comments below each daily condemnation motivational message.Anything else I should do or know?Hell or not, everyone likes some praise and encouragement, so as momma Hydra used to say: “A comment a day keeps the heads at bay!”I have a hard time keeping to challenges, is there any support?For additional cheers, hurrahs, and extra pushes, follow the lake of fire to the FFM Discord Server and check into the Tribble Month Channel for a lift in morale and a sip of water.____________________________________________________________________________Day 27 Prompt: Who ARE You?Recently, Alice in Wonderland has been a recurring movie in my daily life… No, seriously, too many times. So in honor of this random obsession, write of this quotable question from the short-fused caterpillar: O R U? If this particular line doesn’t click, which one catches your fancy the most? Adapt it into a story, and if you’re up to it, make it as wacky as the world of Wonderland!,
Tribble Month
motesIt had been a few days, lost in the endless shuffle of boxes, and it was time for a change. She stepped out for some fresh air. There was a chill in the air, the bite behind the beautiful blue sky.She found herself outside the old house a few doors down, the one that had seemed so familiar, even ominous.The key under the fake rock. The door that opened with a familiar shriek of hinges. In a daze, she walked through the hall. Her foot slipped on the rubble, and she put a hand to the flaring pain in her hip, felt the scars over the metal. She used the wall to steady herself and kept goingThere was a door under the stairs, leading down to the basement. She stepped through without thinking, and whispering music brushed her ears.At the bottom, dust lay in a thick blanket on the empty floor. Waiting. She took a shaking step, and dust leapt into the air, splashing up faster and faster with every footfall. She danced, eyes closed, pain gone, the frailties of age forgotten.The dust circled around her, a spectral partner guiding her hands and feet. They had danced for hours back then. She loved it more than life itself.How could she have forgotten? it whispered.She paused mid-turn, and the dust paused too, looking for all the world like arms and legs and tilted head-There had been a fire. Dancing by candlelight-She opened her eyes. Sunlight filtered through the carcass of an old house, through the gaps in the basement ceiling. She felt the hands, the fading smile of a face she couldn't quite see, and the music sighed away in the breeze."Don't tell the others," the ghost whispered in her ear.
Back Through the Veil: Selktember/TribbleEtain curled into Mara’s youth aspect, both contemplating the Veil between the worlds. A gauzy thing, it rippled in an unseen wind, suspended between unseen pillars. For her, Etain was certain that she felt sea stacks. What they were for someone else she had no clue, and she barely had the energy to care.“Why are you bringing me back?” The names and titles could not pass her lips.“You’re still needed. Kirsty needs you, Finnol needs you. I need you.”“But you’ve not brought back others. Not my mother.” Etain’s head grew heavier on the rough skin.Mara’s clawed hands gripped her parcel tighter, the grey sharkskin fading whiter and the arm stripes growing darker. “Old age and a natural death took her. That’s not in my power to bring back, though I did try to fight off death for her. That’s the real reason my anger destroyed the Lighthouse.” She took a deep breath. “You are just lost between worlds. This isn’t a natural death. I can do something about this.”“I feel pretty dead. What if I don’t want to go back? What if I want to just sleep?”“You have no choice. Nor do I.” Mara kissed the top of her priestess’ head. “I must let Kirsty become what she wants to be, let the function of a priestess change according to conditions. I’m sure she— with or without the help of the one she’s chosen— can create a potion to bring back the health you’ve lost in this storm.”“Even if it means she moves to live in his country?” Etain pulled up the strength to look the Ancient in the eyes.“If I must.” Mara carried Etain through the veil, stepping carefully on the deck of the Corsantoir. “Look who came for you.”
IX. Clematis by LeaderPinhead
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Group Info

FFM is an annual community writing event, run every July, in which participants write one piece of flash fiction between 55-1000 words every day for a month.

Each day we'll hit you up with unusual prompts, and (optional) extra challenges guaranteed to take your writing somewhere it's never been before.

Want to share your flash fiction in months that aren't July? We're always happy to get more eyes on flash fiction, whether they are FFM related or not, so don't be a stranger, and click that "SUBMIT" button.
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Flash Fiction Month is here, so we hope you're ready to get typing! This journal will be used to collect all the news journals, handy links and daily posts for FFM 2021, so if you want a quick reference for anything just check back here.
  • Most of you are old hands at this, but in case you're new, here's a quick refresher on who we are and what we're about.
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"What is Flash Fiction Month?"

FFM is an annual community writing event, run during the month of July, in which participants write one piece of flash fiction between 55-1000 words every day for a whole month. Like a bite-sized NaNoWriMo, but with a format for improving your craft, and a supportive community of writers giving you daily feedback and support.
Each day we post prompts, and the occasional (optional) extra challenge, and though it may seem daunting at first, we guarantee you'll have a good time, meet some new people, and learn a thing or two about writing along the way! If you'd like a chance to stretch your creative muscles, and push your fictional prowess to the limit, Flash Fiction Month is the event for you.
  • Need more info? Check out our shiny FAQ for all the details
All Daily Prompts and Challenges will be posted via @Flash-Fic-Month (so make sure to +watch us asap), but this group journal will serve as a general FFM News depot for collating journal links and announcements on the @FlashFictionMonth group as the month progresses.
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Please use the following quick-links to skip to the relevant section:

Basic info and links relating to Flash Fiction Month 2021
Go here to find the latest daily prompts.
Go here for general updates, or to find the Weekly Journals where you canshare your challenge stories for judging at the end of each week.
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Handy Links

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FFM 2021 Challenge Winners & Golden Mug Awards!

  • FFM 2021 Golden Mug Awards! (Coming soon!!!)
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News, Announcements, and Weekly Challenge Journals

  • Flash Fiction Ahoy! - Pre-FFM Announcements, including an explanation for the reason why we aren't just posting Journals to the group as well.
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Daily Prompts & Challenges

We will add links here as they are uploaded.
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:iconfyoot:
fyoot Featured By Owner Aug 16, 2020   Writer
<3
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:iconflash-fic-month:
Flash-Fic-Month Featured By Owner Aug 24, 2020
:lovely:
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:iconmaggiefromspace:
MaggiefromSpace Featured By Owner Jul 31, 2020  Hobbyist
I will have you know that dA is currently being a something I shall not name to spare your delicate eyes, so I haven't been able to submit the last bunch, but I have completed all 31 flashes of the month :hooray:(I hope it'll sort itself out sometime soon. Otherwise I might try and find a workaround. But I had to share my triumph :P)

Thank you, hydra, for the good times, again!
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:iconflash-fic-month:
Flash-Fic-Month Featured By Owner Aug 1, 2020
Ah, we were wondering what happened to you there. Congratulations on a successful FFM!:la:

Also maybe stick around awhile? We have a special announcement coming up  that will apply to all participants. ;)
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:iconcassidypeterson:
CassidyPeterson Featured By Owner Jul 9, 2018  Hobbyist
:la: Sent my first DD suggestion in from FFM 2018 today!
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:iconflash-fic-month:
Flash-Fic-Month Featured By Owner Jul 10, 2018
That's lovely! :eager:
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:iconmmbaird:
MMBaird Featured By Owner Jul 7, 2018  Professional General Artist
Is it just me or did I read somewhere there was a Discord place for FFmers? Am I hallucinating from all the years of coming into contact with the Hydra's toxic fumes?
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:iconflash-fic-month:
Flash-Fic-Month Featured By Owner Jul 8, 2018
Toxic hallucinations are a side effect of our presence, but in this case you are correct. ;)
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:iconsalshep:
salshep Featured By Owner Jun 29, 2018
I love you people.

That is all.
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:iconflash-fic-month:
Flash-Fic-Month Featured By Owner Jun 30, 2018
Our queen. :worship:
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