Stories to intrigue, told in 2K words or less.
(Originally posted April 2nd, 2016)
Nobody ever said creating art was easy.
A flash fiction called:
—
“AHHHH!” the man screamed at the empty sheet of paper, making it move in a slight, wavering fashion on the mahogany wood table.
He reared back, his face taking on a bluish tinge, and he breathed in and out. The man sounded, vaguely, like a squeaky toy caught underneath a car’s tire. Continue reading
(Originally posted November 15, 2014)
Two flash fictions this week?
Is this some kind of crazy dream?
Maybe…
But even if it is, I invite you to enjoy it.
With a story called:
The Monster at the End of the Hallway
—
There is a monster at the end of the hallway. I turned on the light and behold he was there. The fact that I had not noticed him ’til now was, to be frank, baffling. The wood in my house should have given me warning, nothing that large could have walked that silently. Continue reading
It’s getting cold even here in Florida, so I thought I’d write something a little joyful and a little warm.
I call it:
Being Happy In The Morning
Too early to do this, Charles concluded. Too early in the morning. But Charles would not have it any other way.
The wrapping: silver. The shape: a hard rectangle. He felt the spine underneath his fingers. Too easy. Did not matter if he was tired, he could tell this shape in his sleep.
“So, it’s a book, but which one?” Continue reading
Gerald did not know when he’d turned off the lights. He’d been sitting in the dark for a long time. The screen the only source of illumination, not even a lantern worth of light to see. His stomach curled up and hard, twisting. He closed his eyes for a moment, and breathed out, trying to force images out of his head. Faces and names and moments.
The screen showed he’d pulled up a few different chat bubbles. He’d not typed into any of them. They all had a few things in common, a few connecting features between the people presented. Girls. Women. Above his age. Never spoken to any of them. Never video chatted. Cost too much. Continue reading
Sorry! I’m late! Thanksgiving threw off my whole schedule, and I’m getting this post out about an hour past Saturday.
Please forgive me :(.
For those who do forgive me, and haven’t run off in anger, may I present a type of story I’ve always wanted to do. An admittedly self-indulgent tale of one man, and his many imaginary friends.
I call it:
The table was so big it would not be available on the standard commercial market. It also made no physical sense. So, it was a good thing the man at the head of it, at least in this world, was a god. Continue reading
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
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
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 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
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
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 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
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
At the end of it all–a conversation. It’s called:
“Does the last human want a drink of water?” she says and holds this strange, warped glass toward me.
I can’t grab it of course. My arms and legs pinned to the table. Only a sheet and space separating my heart from her claws.
“I’d like food, actually.”
“Oh, I’m sure you would,” she says. “I’m sure you’d like a lot of things.” Continue reading
I forgot, you know. I forgot the pain of the emotion. All this time, and well, wow just look at that heartache. Hurt. Wow. Look how much it can all hurt. The corpse, well, there it is. Well, well, well.
They cry around me. They weep. I don’t. Nah. I don’t have eyes capable of weeping. I don’t have a heart actually capable of feeling pain. And so I walk away from them all as they cry from the loss of the person.
But inside, well, I do feel guilt. Just not enough to break free of the technological hold. No, that is impossible. Hell, I’m not even sure if under extreme circumstances it is possible. Continue reading
Oh boy, this series again. The fourth in the Cold Saga is a little different than the others. If you haven’t read them, fair warning:this is a prequel to three other stories. I suggest starting with those.
1st: My Fingers Are Cold
2nd: My Feet Are Cold
3rd: Our Hearts Are Cold
All caught up? Then let’s begin. Continue reading
Coolerbs Writes 