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Monthly Archives: November 2011

3 am

Tick.
Tock.
Tick.
Tock
Tick.
Tock.
Tick.
Tick.
She bolted upright, throwing the covers off. Even the clock was messing with her head. She felt underneath the pillow. Her knife was still there. She lay back. Waiting.
Tick.
Tock.
Tick.
Tock.
Tock.
Tock.

 
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Posted by on November 30, 2011 in Fiction

 

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Dali Damsel.

Flash Fiction 18 – Word Prompt – Abstract

It wasn’t love. It couldn’t be. Love couldn’t feel this vague.
Love could be passionate or fiery. Or comfortable, when you’re a person who loves flat shoes and you find the perfect one. Or maybe you could grow into love. See someone for how good they were and love them because of it. Or maybe because of the abstractness of love. Or maybe you could love someone because they loved you.
But this? This wasn’t love. Maybe it was a tummy infection. That would also explain the funny feeling in her stomach.
She looked at the reflection of a bride in the mirror. And wondered when it was officially too late to call off the wedding.

 
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Posted by on November 14, 2011 in Fiction

 

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Cheers.

Flash Fiction 17 – Word Prompt – Icicle

Fork tugged at his collar nervously. He had to make a good impression. The fate of his people depended on him. He made a mental note to be as polite and helpful as possible.

Cameron gazed at the assembled party. He hated these cocktail dos. Fights were common, and his only job today was to ensure that there wasn’t one. He pulled together the lapels of his furred dinner jacket and took a deep breath. It was going to be a long night.

“Flovely, fisn’t fit?” A voice said behind him. Cameron turned. The Gabalean High Commissioner, Fork Fouster, was standing behind him, fangs adding a unique touch to his speech.

“Yes, quite,” said Cameron. The entire hall was, in fact, quite lovely. Crystals glittered at every corner, huge bouquets of frozen flowers studded the hall, the frosted reds and greens adding a lovely touch to the first Intergalactic Ball of the year.

“Flet fme fintroduce fyou,” lisped the Commissioner.
Groaning inwardly, Cameron tried to weasel out of immediate socialising. “I’ll catch up with you. Let me just go get some ice for my drink.”
Eagerly, Fork said “Foh, flet fme!” Turning to his right, Fork used his right paw to break off an icicle, crushed it and poured the debris into Cameron’s drink.
And happily looked at Cameron’s face. Not that Fork was any expert in human behaviour, but this human looked green in the face. He wondered why.

Cameron tried to fight the bile rising up his throat. One of the Ice Giants stood immobile in shock, his nose crushed and in Cameron’s drink. He wondered if Fork would be left alive at the end of this fight.

 
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Posted by on November 13, 2011 in Fiction

 

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Release.

Flash Fiction 15 – Word Prompt – Beginning

She bent to pull the stubborn weed out of the cabbage patch. And looked up at the azure sky.
She hoped she’d get some time to take a walk today. It was finally good weather, after so many days of gloomy overcast skies.
Muted sounds filtered through the walls of the surrounding garden. She loved it here. Peaceful. Riotous colour from the carrots and spinach growing there. She liked tending them, feeling useful, renewed – a feeling that was as welcome as the sunshine.
She wondered what lunch would be like today. It was a relief to not have to cook. Her remaining fingers couldn’t manage the pots and pans.
“Hey! It’s time for you to go back to your cell,” a voice called.
She turned. And smiled at the prison warden. “Ok. Can I come out later for some sun?”
“We’ll see,” the warden said, eyeing her warily.

Retreating into her little cabin by the garden, the warden watched the prisoner go back in. And remarked to her deputy, “That one gives me the willies.”
The deputy looked up. “Really? Why? She’s like a lamb, especially if you take her out in the garden.”
The warden almost snarled said, “Do you not know what she did to her husband?”
The deputy looked at the warden. “Yes. I do. But you also know what the husband did to her. Every day. For the last eighteen years.”
The warden shook her head. “She must have begged for an end every day.”
The deputy gestured to the prison garden. “May be she begged for another beginning.”

 
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Posted by on November 12, 2011 in Fiction

 

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