“Did we…”
“Did we…”
“Yes, I think we—”
“Did.”
“This is—”
“This is awkward.” Continue reading
Category Archives: Flash Fiction
Stories to intrigue, told in 2K words or less.
Flash Fiction: Only On The Screen
Salina Johnson’s camera captured something. Not that she was aware of it. But there it was, hidden between the desktop and the browser. In the pixels. Squirming through the hard drive, looking out, watching, with blinking, cold eyes. Continue reading
Halloween Flash Fiction: Washing Machine
The sound annoys. Irritates me. I can’t stand it. I shout for it to stop. I beg the air, I scream, and it does not stop. Clanking, crushing. Cracking. So much noise. It makes me want to take my skin and yank it down over my ears. Fill my drums with liquid until they pop.
I can’t stand it—I just can’t. The cabinet slamming covers the sound well enough. Back and forth under my forceful hands. Back and forth. Enough force to break something. The last push hurts too much, so I slam my hand on the side of the wood, letting the wet handprint slide down on the mahogany. Continue reading
Flash Fiction: Scammy
The email looked legit.
Hello sir or madam, I am happy to inform you that you have made so many of billions of dollars. Due to a ridiculous series of tax laws and reformatting of the entire currency system, along with the rising of a dark sorcerer, you are set to receive seventeen billion dollars in the next week. We only need you to enter your bank account data to make the transaction complete. Continue reading
Flash Fiction: Go To The Mountain And See
Though ruffled and abused, the map showed this was the place. This, at the top of the mountain, was the location I’d been told to visit. I spoke to the masters of all the arts, and they said, in one voice, to go to this spot and see what was there. That it would be the most memorable moment of my life.
It didn’t disappoint—except in almost every way possible. Continue reading
Flash Fiction: Party Girl
Her dance moves literally defied physics. She tapped both her feet on the ground at the same time and rose several inches. And drifted back down with a twirl which took her hemline and lifted it to her thighs.
And her arms hugged her body afterward, and she swayed as the surrounding air froze to the slow motion of the dance.
I stood, looking, staring, ogling, at her, and nearly dropped my drink. Nearly let it fall on the glittering tiles. Continue reading
Flash Fiction: Home Invasion
The door flew outward off its hinges without even a stutter to the motion, crashing into a wall and splintering.
All the eyes in the room darted to the open doorway. Someone’s grasp wrapped around a pistol, but hesitated to use it. The others: a woman, two children, and one teenage male, all remained quiet. Continue reading
Flash Fiction: You Are Hungry
Here is a story in the always tricky second person point of view.
I hope you hadn’t just eaten, because…
YOU ARE HUNGRY
You are hungry. You have this feeling in your head like you might fall over if you’re without food for too long. You desire the sweetness of meat, the richness of cream, and the salt and gristle of many things. Continue reading
Flash Fiction: Cog Work
The man’s metal arm moved in twitches. Picking up the pen and placing it on the paper’s surface. Rather than a smooth drag, it was a jerky motion, but each line came out well enough.
A different man, wearing goggles and a smock with more of its surface stained with oil than not, watched the first man work away at his craft. After a few stuttering passes, a picture of a tree appeared on the paper.
“Good, good, Mur, that looks lovely.” Continue reading
Flash Fiction: Outrunning The Storm
I will not bore you with the weather, but Goddamn was it something worth running from at the moment. My feet keep hitting the pavement with a rhythm. The rhythm of motion and of panic.
“Ride the bounce, ride the bounce,” I say.
And I do. It’s not so much running now as it is my feet hitting and rebounding. Newton’s Laws in real world use.
“Hey, where you going?” yells a girl as I pass.
I’m dumb: so I answer. She’s the type of pretty that makes guys like me stumble on our own words.
I do well enough though.
“The storm!” Continue reading
Flash Fiction: Gorehound
The book opened and laid on his knee. The paper was faded, old, and crinkled. A coffee stain on its binding from back when there was coffee.
“It says many things about what you described,” the man said.
“A ‘book’ does?” asked the boy sitting at the man’s feet. Off in the corner of the room a machine puttered along, producing heat.
“Yes. There was once a time when books told everyone all knowledge. We had one great book we used to read.” Continue reading
Flash Fiction: Our World Is Cold
Would you believe the insane trip that is the Cold Saga started with me just muttering while staring at a blank screen “my fingers are cold”?
Because, yeah, that’s how this all got going. Here’s the fifth one. You kind of need to read the others first, so follow the links.
1st: My Fingers Are Cold
2nd: My Feet Are Cold
3rd: Our Hearts Are Cold
4th: My Past Is Cold
And now:
Our World Is Cold
—
Our world is cold when we come out of the dirt. When we raise our heads above the ground. The warmth is still not upon it, the freshness still not taking hold of the last vestiges. Continue reading
Flash Fiction: A Secret Shame (Part 2 of 2)
As the titles states, this is part two. You can read part one here. Otherwise, let’s get going!
He sighed again and took his pinkie finger and poked around the inside of his ear. He looked calm, though, on the inside, his heart rate was jumping into the solar system.
“I was reading it. Do try your tea.” Continue reading
Flash Fiction: A Secret Shame (Part 1 of 2)
“When were you going to tell me?” she asked and stepped into the room. The man looked back in a panic, then swiveled his head back to her, and tried a smile.
It wasn’t effective.
“Well, you know, it’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you about—but you haven’t been over here in a while…so, you know.”
She looked around and crinkled her nose. “What is that smell?” Continue reading
Flash Fiction: Across A Year
I have no idea if the weight of two people on the hood of a car is good for it. But I don’t care. It holds us up in more than one way.
I stare out at them, the stars, and I think a lot of things. I’m told that’s a pretentious thing to say. I’m told we live in a world full of clichés and platitudes. And yet, like so many before me, I like looking at them, and wondering.
“You’re thinking again,” she says, and I like to hear that voice of hers.
I like to look at her too, even if it’s only this time for a brief sidelong glance. Continue reading
Coolerbs Writes 