Howdy, folks, and welcome back to another rip-roaring, fresh-outta-the-box Flash! Friday! And speaking of out of the box, it’s my sincere hope that y’all will gnash your teeth at me over today’s totally cliched prompt. And then write about something else altogether. More than one judge has commented in recent weeks on their attention being consistently drawn by the stories that “stand out” from the pack. So I dare you to look past the surface, past the obvious, and write the story lurking offstage.
It’s a real pleasure to introduce you to the magnificent castle in Syria known as the Krak de Chevaliers (Qalat al-Hosn). This place is something else. Built into its present form around 1200AD it’s, yes, a Crusader castle, and invaders simply could not bust their way into this place (take a look at its walls!). And now, you are saying, please explain how you arrived at this glorious castle On This Day In History. –Well, I’m so glad you asked! On this day precisely 80 years ago, Bruno Hauptman was arrested in New York for the murder of Charles Lindbergh’s little boy. And that put me in mind of Agatha Christie’s Murder on the Orient Express (have you read that? love it), and suddenly I found myself in Aleppo at the Baron Hotel, where she wrote part of that disturbing tale (I’ll have thirteen orders of justice for takeaway, please). And now you have arrived with me at the Krak, where I will watch safely hidden in the curtains as you wend your mysterious way onward.
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Wending her way onward on a daily (offbeat) basis, because that’s how she rolls, is returning judge Betsy Streeter. Excellent flash, she says, is all about economy and detail. Read the translation of that curious phrase here.
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Awards Ceremony: Results will post Monday. Noteworthy #SixtySeconds interviews with the previous week’s winner post Wednesdays. I (Rebekah) post my own unbalanced writings sometimes on Tuesdays or Thursdays.
Now, grab a battering ram and let’s get to it!
* Word limit: 150 word story (10-word leeway) based on the photo prompt.
* How: Post your story here in the comments. Include your word count (140 – 160 words, exclusive of title) and Twitter handle if you’ve got one. If you’re new, don’t forget to check the contest guidelines.
* Deadline: 11:59pm ET tonight (check the world clock if you need to; Flash! Friday is on Washington, DC time)
* Winners: will post Monday.
* Prize: The Flash! Friday e-dragon e-badge for your blog/wall, your own winner’s page here at FF, a 60-second interview next Wednesday, and your name flame-written on the Dragon Wall of Fame for posterity.
***Today’s Dragon’s Bidding (required element to incorporate somewhere in your story; does not need to be the exact word(s) unless instructed to do so, e.g. “include the name “Lawrence of Arabia'”):
***Today’s Prompt:
Persistence
by JM6, 156 words, @JMnumber6
Relaxing on the bed, he had to admit: it was a hell of a view, an ancient castle as seen through a hotel room window. Then again, she was probably there when it was built and she’ll still be around long after it crumbles back into the dust and sand from which it rose.
Unless it already had. He couldn’t really be sure how much time had passed, here inside the bottle.
She entered from the balcony, as if she had been just around the corner, there but unseen. “Hello, my love. Have you reconsidered, yet? Will you marry me?”
He stood, pleading with her. “I’ve told you. I’m already married. Just let me go. Please.”
The djinn shook her head. “I can’t do that. I hold the key to your freedom, my love, and you hold the key to mine.” As she faded from view, she said, “You’ll come to see it my way, eventually.”
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Great story, and chilling. Love the Djinn!
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Love the twist with the Djinn. What a creative take on the prompt.
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Oh, this is great. As is anything that includes a djinn. Wonderful take on the prompt.
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I also love this – the djinn puts an interesting twist on it. Beautiful.
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Also, I like how you mention “he’s” in the bottle; something I hadn’t noticed at first. Hints to a backstory. Excellent.
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Cooo. Great idea and take on the prompt.
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I like this. Poor guy.
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Really clever idea, deftly executed. I love it.
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The whole focus changes with that one sentence..
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“He couldn’t really be sure how much time had passed, here inside the bottle.”
I’ve lost a few hours to the bottle in my time, but not like this! Great stuff.
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really enjoyable and intriguing approach to the prompt …
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Love this curious entanglement.
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I agree with everyone below – the djinn is creative and made this story stand out. 🙂
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like the magic in this
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I love this line,”Unless it already had. He couldn’t really be sure how much time had passed, here inside the bottle.” It gives it just the right ‘wait what?’ twist 🙂
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Josh Bertetta
157 Words
@JBertetta
“Aperture”
Life is a darkroom.
They say it’s not a black and white thing, that we can’t divide things and frame them is such neat and tidy ways. I thought they were right and in believing them I could capture some semblance of life. I thought I could develop my life into something worthwhile, maybe even contribute something..
But now in my hotel room, exposed to the war-torn streets, peering out my window toward a history no one will ever know, past a history that in time none will remember, I wonder, were they right?
Life is black and white.
Isn’t it?
I asked her a simple yes or no question. She said no.
Those outside don’t ask “maybe” or “I’ll think about it” questions.
They ask you yes or no questions.
If you say yes, you’ll live.
If you say no, you’ll die.
The guns fire bullets as fast as my camera shoots frames per second.
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Great story. You pack a lot of meaning and thoughts in such a small package.
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Thanks Carlos; much appreciated
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This is excellent. Love the black/white contrast, and how it aligns with the black/white photo. Very introspective. Love it.
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Thanks Tamara, I was hoping that would catch 🙂
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That was chilling!
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Glad to hear it. One of the effects I was going for.
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Perfect analogies throughout, Excellent opening – ‘Life is a darkroom. They say it’s not a black and white thing’… Really thought this was a great piece of flash.
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Thanks Avalina…Relatively new to flash…Seems like every week I’m getting just a little bit more of the hang of it.
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Wonderful take on the black-and-white. Well-done!
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Thanks Voima…Haven’t check the blog yet, but hope to see you on there.
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The title is the lead in .. Love it quick and gritty, truthful..
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Nice work, Josh. Keep it coming.
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Will do Mark, will do. Promise me the same
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I like that you focused on the ‘black and white’ part of the picture. That’s super neat. I loved your 3rd paragraph. So beautiful and thought provoking!
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Thank you Hannah, especially for the “thought provoking.” That’s what I strive for in all my writing. 🙂
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Love this. Great use of the prompts.
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really enjoyed the monochromatic binary and how that influences the pace and imagery of the tale …
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Thanks Image Ronin for the thoughtful comment.
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You say so much with such economy of words. I love the last line. Gives me chills.
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Thanks Sarah. Originally I had the last line first, then moved it. Think that was a good call.
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I agree with loving the way you interpreted the black and white photo. “Life is a darkroom.” So true!
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Lovely piece of flash with contrasting layers and woven elements.
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Kind of jives with your very “black and white” blog 🙂 Thanks for taking the time to read and respond.
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lovely analogy
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Love the use of black and white here on both levels. Lots of meaning.
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Thank you for reading and commenting Eliza.
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Wonderful visuals here.The last line really sticks with me.
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Thank you and I’m glad about the last line. Originally I had it as the first, but decided, just before I posted, to put it at the end.
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cool take. imaginative and well done!
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Kathy Maffei
151 Words
@elfenkate
From The Bed
“We still stand little man”.
His eyes caress the high walls. Looking for some weakness. Anything. He sees nothing. Only solid stone. And dust. Dust on everything. A slight breeze and it blows around and settles again. He turns from the window, looking to the plaster ceiling. It’s cracked and peeling in the corner. He looks to the table. His watch, a pack of smokes, a matchbook from the café across the street, several empty wine bottles and that hateful ring; shiny and mocking.
“No.” The cold word hangs in the air days later. The skin still feeling the brush of a last kiss.
” I would break those walls for you. Those impossible walls will fall. If you would just be
mine!“ He remembered gesturing over the city, pleading.
He looks back to the window. His eyes closing as he settles into the air vibrating with the laughter of dusty walls.
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Oh wow, you grasp and twist emotion perfectly in this piece. I can feel the heartache. Well done.
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Fantastic title. You really captured the idea of a slightly nasty and mocking wall of a woman.
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Amazingly vivid imagery for the setting. It really puts the reader in the piece.
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I got emotions of helplessness, insignificance, and despair. Great writing.
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My favorite phrases you used: “…that hateful ring; shiny and mocking.” and “I would break those walls for you.” I’d love for someone to propose to me and tell me exactly that if I weren’t already married. 😉
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Fantastic description of his surroundings and the captured emotions.
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The emotions guide this flash and the pacing carries it. Lovely read.
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‘feeling the brush of a last kiss’ – great line
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Thank you all for the lovely comments:) They made my day much brighter 🙂
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Then
When he was a younger man. That is what he thinks of now.
Years that burst with vivacity, fresh cracked pepper verve and sharp cedar lust. Years that allowed for leisurely, decadent hours spent in bed, thinking, composing a life’s song to be danced across the streets of every corner of the world. Decadent hours that belonged to him alone when he preferred and with company when he did not.
This man did not know how many hopes won’t bear fruit. He doesn’t know of whom he will fall in love.
Chocolate and tobacco. A scent so like his own and so different in its origins.
Secrecy and shame over something that feels like the essence of him. He knows that for them there is no marriage proposal, no family life there. The world he wants to see does not want to see them in return. So he leaves. And continues his bittersweet composition.
Now, a story, nothing more.
159 words
@CaseyCaseRose
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Such rich phrasing here. “…composing a life’s song to be danced across the streets of every corner of the world.” Great work!
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Very sad. My fav – ‘fresh cracked pepper verve and sharp cedar lust.’
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So, so beautiful. Great story.
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‘Decadent hours’ is such an apt description of youth. It really stood out to me when I read this. Excellent.
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This really stood out for me too. I used to have “decadent hours spent in bed.” Then we had children!
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Bittersweet composition… the ending of every story…..
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Such lovely writing and meaning. Especially liked “fresh cracked pepper verve and sharp cedar lust”.
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Thank you so much for all of the wonderful comments, especially from such talented writers.
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really wonderful, “Chocolate and tobacco. A scent so like his own and so different in its origins.”
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Your language is so compelling and visual. I loved the images of fresh cracked pepper verve and sharp cedar lust. Just excellent.
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The imagery you provide with your words makes this flash deliciously tactile.
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Just wonderful. I too love the descriptions that many have already pointed out. I both enjoyed and admired your writing.
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loved the 3rd sentence!
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Love the description and smells here–cracked pepper, cedar, chocolate and tobacco. Beautiful phrasing.
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So moving and sad.
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Your story brings out a lot of emotion in me. Dreams hoped for yet lost. Excellent imagery.
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Song of the Night Owl
155 words – @scturnbull
Bright sunshine bleached the castle white and painful to look at. Lilith turned to the wall.
Adam watched her, flinching as another mortar round crumped near-bye.
“You can’t do this. We’re married,” he said.
She remained facing the wall. Her voice was quiet, but firm. “We were joined. It wasn’t a marriage.”
“How can you say that?”
She turned back.
“‘Here, you’re married’ is a fait accompli, not a proposal. I was never asked. Never asked.”
“I’m asking you to stay married to me. Begging you.”
Gun fire rattled in the street. An explosion pummelled the air. The room shook, dust drifted from the ceiling. They looked at a dirty cloud rising from the castle and drifting on the breeze.
A corner tower was slumped down the hillside. The sun cast a deep shadow on the exposed interior.
“They bombed the castle,” Adam said.
“Yes.”
“Everything is being destroyed.”
“Some things were already rubble.”
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POOF! and just like that, the premature one’s vanished. 🙂 Welcome aboard!
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thank you!
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Ouch. “Some things were already rubble.” I can feel their angst; great job painting such vivid imagery!
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Nice lead up to final punch line. Great.
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Great to see you over here! Love the title reference to Lilith and how you incorporate the legend with recent events at the Krak.
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So chuffed that someone understood the sub-story. Makes me very happy.
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Moving. I admire how you avoided sentimentality.
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Great use of the form. I really appreciate the progression and structure of the story. There is this doomed sense before we even get to the last two lines.
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I thoroughly enjoyed you piece. I could feel the world vibrating around me with the emotional tension and mortar fire. Wonderful!
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great opening line
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What a fantastic last line! Haunting story.
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Who wouldn’t flinch at those words, “Some things were already rubble.” Amazing 🙂
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I love that this couple is having this discussion about their marriage crumbling while the castle is also crumbling around them. It makes the implosion of their marriage stand out. And the last line…wow!
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Freedom
151 words @lsunil
My princess will be now getting ready to meet me. I look at the tickets in my hand, tickets to freedom. Mom had asked me, “Is she a real princess? Why does she want to be free?” She isn’t a real princess, but she is the princess of my heart, of my life. I want to take her far away from slavery, get married, start a family.
Princess looked across the window of the castle at the swanky new hotel. Putting on her earrings, she looks at the mirror. She looks at the unused broom at the corner of the room. Today, finally she will escape from this castle. The curse will be lifted. The curse which said, “Only a man who truly loves you, can set you free”. She waited over 600 years for this day. She smiles demurely into the mirror. The image in the mirror laughs back wickedly.
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Ooh, intriguing. I’d like to read the rest of the story. 🙂
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Wow.. I love your comments. thank you so much.
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Back story! Back story!!
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I’m in the same boat, I’m fascinated by the idea of what happened before and after!
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Oh wow. I want to know what happens next. Cool story.
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‘she is the princess of my heart’ – lovely
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Very interest piquing. i want to yell “Run away! Don’t do it!”
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Those last few lines gave me shivers. What a surprising and wicked ending!
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Like a Dali Painting
Three months in the hotel and he hadn’t been inspired to write a single word. He spent the days lying in bed fully dressed, except for his oxfords which he kept by the door.
His fiancé frequently called, and he’d tell her, “just a few more days.” But the days turned to weeks and the weeks to months. He started forgetting why he’d come to the hotel. He’d proposed then promised to write her a vow that would make even the apathetic weep; that, he was certain of. But what he wasn’t certain of was why it mattered. He wasn’t even sure what his fiancé looked like anymore.
Replacing the memory of her was the vista; the long, languorous curtains, the sharp angled doorframe, textures of the distant castle, and the surreal curves of terrace guardrails. It was like a Dali painting. Lying there he felt forgotten by time, and he was content in letting forever pass him by.
@goldzco
159 words
#flashdog
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This is nice.
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Good take on the prompt. The guy on the bed would easily be a writer who gets carried away with his craft!
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You make time stand still in this piece. Your hesitant hero makes me want to know if he’s merely a procrastinator or if he really regrets his choices and is trying to escape. I’m sad for him. Beautifully written.
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Very sad, good work.
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Seduced by the vista… I enjoyed it, as Tamara said, you made time stand still.
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Lovely, controlled writing. I really like this.
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Yes, time transfixed. Beautiful and sad. Great job!
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It feels like I am right there with him! Stellar!
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Great work, Carlos. Last paragraph is wonderful. Good luck!
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Fantastic. All she wants to hear are three little words and he spends so much time searching for the perfect way to say it he forgets what she looks like. Well done.
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Lovely and atmospheric piece that really captures the writer’s curse …
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Beautiful. What is taken up and what is put down in the pursuit of making something beautiful.
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I like this. He comes to the hotel to write and then forgets his purpose. Good stuff.
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Great story. The last paragraph really brings it all home, and the reference to the Dali painting is such a great fit.
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Thanks everyone for the great comments and feedback. Really means a lot to know what people are thinking about my writing.
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another great tale Carlos 🙂
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‘long languorous curtains’ -wonderful!
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Like the title so much. Time melts in Dali, so it really fits with the ennui the narrator feels. Fits so well with the picture prompt.
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After three months I would wonder if it was a lack of words or a lack of passion for what the words are for. Nicely written..
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A strong piece of writing where I see the man spiraling into despair and maybe even depression. Maybe even becoming delusional after so much time alone in the hotel?
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Dream Wedding
160 words ….@lsunil
‘Why for god’s sake do you want to get married in this castle?’ Jim demanded.
‘I have always dreamt of a castle wedding?’ Gina reasoned.
‘It’s costing me $50K!’ he shouted. ‘Are you listening?’ he followed her.
‘Don’t you love me honey? You said you will get me the brightest diamonds, the most expensive gifts when you proposed. I am just exercising my rights.’
They hurried to the wedding room setup in the castle among family and friends.
Jim hesitates as he suddenly hears a booming voice in his head. ‘You will be a poor man in 3 years’. He calls out to Gina. ‘Sorry dear, I can’t marry you. I can’t let you spend my money like this’, he gets into his car and drives off to the nearby hotel.
Gina smiles and thinks, ‘Good riddance!’. She marries her true love Tim at the castle and sends the wedding bill to Jim. Anything to make a dream come true!
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Haha! Good one. You show him, Gina… 😉
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Thanks Tamara. You maybe knowing this, ‘Tamara’ means ‘Lotus’ in Sanskrit. Or does it mean something else?
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Oh, I didn’t know that. That’s really neat! I do know that it has a Hebrew base (Tamar), which means “palm tree.” I kind of prefer “Lotus.” Beautiful blossoms, are they not? Thanks for letting me know. 🙂
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Sneaky :)) Love it!
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This was great! At first, I felt sorry for Jim, then Gina, and at the end, I was happy for Gina and Jim, lol! 🙂
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A Fairy Tale Prince?
Ian Martyn (@IBMartyn)
158 words
It was so simple when we walked hand in hand along that golden beach our hearts warmed by the tropical sun. She was my princess and nothing in the world would keep our love apart. But then I hadn’t seen her stepfather’s castle. What’s more these sheets don’t feel that strong to me. I could plummet to my death just climbing down from my window.
We were carried away by the romance, the story that would begin our fairy tale lives together. A knight of old carrying away his lady fair against the wishes of her evil guardian. However, I hadn’t appreciated the height of those walls and no doubt there will be guards, armed guards. Yes, I want to be in arms of my beloved, but dying in those arms tonight is less appealing. No, no, I’m no coward, but there’s no point in being a foolish, dead hero is there? Hey ho, win some, lose some.
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I enjoyed this. I’m a sucker for fairy tales in all shapes and sizes and I like the hero’s hesitant tone. 🙂 Nicely done.
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Thank you – a pragmatic hero.
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Nice inner dialogue, works well. Enjoyed it.
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The head overrules the heart in this case…
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Gotta love a realist! 🙂 Enjoyed this hugely.
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love the sentiment in this piece
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Prince Lets-Not-Get-Crazy-Here to the non-rescue. LOL!
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@pamjplumb
#flashdog
94 words
‘Love Hurts’
She left while he wasn’t looking. Head turned away, overlooking the city, pondering the history and its people, forgetting her momentarily; he never even heard the door. Focused on the wedding white walls of the castle, he hadn’t listened properly.
Now, in the silence of her wake, all he could do was listen; listen to the echoes of his own vacuous promises of love, of marriage that she rejected with each shake of her head.
She left nothing of herself, no tokens of a lost love, only the precarious digital imprint in his camera.
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Love this. -Quick reminder that to be eligible to win, however, it needs to be 140-160 words. You’re welcome to edit & resubmit if you like. Up to you!
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oops! forgot about that bit – been too busy after entering to see the message (hence the delayed reply) – but thanks for the kind comments guys. I’ll remember next time!
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‘In the silence of her wake’ is beautiful.
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‘She left while he wasn’t looking’ I love that line.
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Good work Pam, I really like it as it is, so much with 94 words. But it would also be a shame if you weren’t in the running.
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Shame about the word count! Really liked the final line – lovely idea.
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What a sad story. Beautifully written. Glad you shared it.
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Such a sad tale. Everything is ending and he’s not even paying attention.
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‘Til Death Do Us Part
(158 words)
His favourite shirt. His favourite trousers. His favourite view. The process was almost complete.
He proposed to me on the balcony of this hotel room that he had carefully selected.
A well travelled, history buff who knew all there was to know about sport, and an artistic, scientist who knew all there was to know about film: we were a match made in quiz team heaven.
He’d tell me I was all facts and hourglass figure. I’d tell him to whisper in my ear the dates of historical battles while we made love.
I knew from the outset I could never bear losing him. I’d never find anyone else this perfect for me.That’s why I started studying the ancient art: an insurance policy of sorts.
Once satisfied, I swung open the balcony doors allowing the odour of the formaldehyde out. Finally, I perched between his fingers the last cigarette he’d dragged on – a little breath of life.
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I love this, as usual, Marie. It’s my new ambition to become ‘all facts and hourglass figure’ – what an excellent turn of phrase! I adore that ‘the ancient art’ isn’t what we think it is, and I love the way you handle the big reveal. Masterful, as ever. And, of course, very funny. 🙂
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Lol. Yeah, it’s my new ambition as well! So glad you think the reveal works. Thank you for your lovely comment.
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Wow, this whole piece is excellent. I was especially struck by the stark irony of a cigarette as a little breath of life – as the last memento of his, that was so powerful.
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Thank you. I really appreciate it.
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Creepy! 🙂
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Thanks!
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Excellent writing as usual! So much to like – ‘we were a match made in quiz team heaven.’ and ‘I’d tell him to whisper in my ear the dates of historical battles while we made love.’ Such a compelling read. Bravo.
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Thank you so much! ‘compelling’ is such a great compliment.
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Very clever structure. I like this a lot.
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Thank you. Really glad you liked it.
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You know I’m a fan – so I always enjoy your work. Dark but light. Captivating and tense. Great use of imagination on the prompt. Top stuff.
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Thank you, Mark. That’s brilliant! Your two stories were fab as always.
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Very Hitchcockian. I like it a lot.
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Wow! Thank you so much.
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Very creepy, beautiful and warm in equal measure … fabulous
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I really appreciate it. Thanks very much.
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What an exquisite character. Fascinating.
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So glad you thought so. Thanks.
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Love this. Excellent writing and such a creepy unexpected ending!
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That’s so kind. Thank you!
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great story – original
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What a creative take on the prompt! I love the cigarette as “a little breath of life.”
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@avalina_kreska
(160 words)
Crusade
Martin’s gaze fell on the castle, still standing after 814 years.There was something about its grandeur, its fortitude, its refusal to crumple and fall. It was a difficult decision to make. On the darkened desk in the corner lay the proposal. Did he want to take a leap in the dark despite his inner warnings? No different from a marriage, once you’ve signed the contract there’s no going back without a heck of a lot of heartache and paperwork.
England and Scotland have been divided before. The old wounds still suppurated in secret, the haves and have nots, divided hearts never sit well until someone demands the surgeons scalpel. Shouts rise. Hammers fall. Neighbour stands with fists, ready for blood. Oil flows between us all.
Martin walked to the desk and picked up the pen. Momentarily his hand wavered. Shaking, he ticked the ‘NO’ box. He placed the vote in the envelope.
‘The castle stands and always will.’ He thought.
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This is quite timely. What a wonderful take on the prompt. Excellent.
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Yes, timely–and timeless. Well-done!
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This is really awesome for so many reasons. Lovely writing. I was also toying with a Scotland take but it would have felt wrong, especially as it has real meaning for you. Timely and personal (clearly). Oh, to be on a remote Scottish island. Well done.
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This is really neat! I like how you applied it to current situations. Very clever. =)
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Very topical. A great piece. I love the poetry in these lines: “Shouts rise. Hammers fall. Neighbour stands with fists, ready for blood. Oil flows between us all.”
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A really clever take on the prompt … and wonderfully written
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Great take on the prompt, especially now. Well done.
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Thanks everyone for your comments – means such a lot to me – I was very pleased the final referendum vote turned out as a NO – far too many unknowns especially with the current world situation – so, our sleepy island carries on, well, sleeping…
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Great take on the prompt. I loved ‘Hammers fall. neighbour stands…’ A heartfelt piece, I sense. I am a little flat from the vote myself. But I think you captured the immense responsibility we all felt during the process. Well done.
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I did think of you Marie in the run up – I tried to find you on Twitter to have a chat – but the nest marked Marie was empty.
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Oh, sorry! I’m rubbish with technology. I keep promising myself I’ll improve, and then I don’t!
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great topical take on the prompt!
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Creative and timely take on the prompt, and beautifully written–nice line “oil flows between us all.”
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From the Window
145 words
@MicroBookends
They met in the Baron Hotel again, in the beautiful suite with the view of the castle. They lay entwined on ruffled sheets, the breeze from the window cooling their sweat-slicked bodies and carrying the sounds of the market below. He ran his fingers over her copper skin, never seen by another man let alone touched.
“Marry me,” he said.
“Stop.”
“Come back to England with me and marry me.”
“Please stop. You know I can’t shame my family.”
He turned away, the illusion was broken. He felt her rise from the bed and begin to dress: to hide her beauty from the world.
“Will I see you next week?” she asked from the doorway.
“Yes, I’ll look for you from the window.”
Now he waits in the Baron Hotel, in the detestable suite with the view of the castle. Will she ever come out?
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A tragic thing when culture divides people. A beautiful if sad little story.
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Good dialogue! I had a similar idea for my story. It’s sad how some ideas of duty, religion, culture, etc. affect love and marriage.
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Nice mix of crisp description and dialogue in here. Good job.
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The descriptions are great. I really like how you end it – ‘detestable’ because she’s not there, and the question showing his longing.
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great description – ‘copper skin’ is lovely
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Castle of the Kurds
@Making_Fiction #FlashDog
160 words
They come on horses, numb from the weight of armour. They carry swords stained by the red liquid of life, extinguished. They come on tourist buses, dragging their wheeled suitcases, bang-bang-bang over my cobbled streets.
But…it is I that watches them.
I stare at them through my battlements adorned with ancient text. My towers of worship and pain scan the streets and hotel rooms, peering in; looking for him. I’m tired of crusading knights; driven by obliteration and the glory of their god versus all others.
Yet, one day he came to me. T .E. Lawrence, Lawrence of Arabia. He was worthy. A knight who rejected the glory of knighthood. The embodiment of charisma, passion and bravery. He knows forbidden love, as do I. He gazes at me, and I at him. A proposal of marriage, we’ll be entwined by prose and verse.
Immortalised in ink; scribed the on thin pages of deadened trees. Our love, eternal, will never die.
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To this day, Lawrence of Arabia is still a fascinating figure to people. I can’t help thinking of Rudolf Valentino when I hear the name, however. Probably I’m not the only one who first learned of Lawrence of Arabia via the Valentino film.
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Apparently there is an unpaid bar bill of his on display in the Baron Hotel.
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This, this is why I look forward to Fridays every week. You’re an artist, Mark. This is beautiful. I love the ownership in this: “…over my cobbled streets… my battlements adorned with ancient text. My towers of worship…” Gorgeous.
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nice.
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I particularly like the first paragraph.
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Gorgeous piece.
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“It is I that’s watches them..” Beautiful story.
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Incredible imagery and themes as always dear chap … fine work
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“Immortalised in ink”- says so much about the characters and we the word-pushers.
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Mark, I don’t know what to say… oh, ok I do… This is just… well… you just…hmmm… you nailed it. Bang bang bang over our flashy hearts. xx (super flashdog)
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Wow! That’s just wonderful. Your writing is beautiful. The first paragraph is so clever, and the story builds into such a poetic piece. ‘their god versus all others’ succinct but a statement of great magnitude. Excellent.
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wonderful choice of perspective!
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Love the “thin pages of deadened trees.” Mysterious and anything with T.E. Lawrence is always a hit with me. Great stuff.
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Just wanted to say a massive thanks for the very kind comments. It might seem a random combination, but I promised myself that I’d use the non-prompt this week and hence TE Lawrence appearance, and after research he had a connection to the castle, to love and to knighthood, so that’s how it developed.
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Such beautiful, magical and timeless writing. Well done, as always.
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@avalina_kreska
(158 words)
#flashdog
Cavalier
Martin’s gaze fell on the castle, still standing after 814 years.There was something about its grandeur, its fortitude, its refusal to crumple and fall. It was a difficult decision to make. On the darkened desk in the corner lay the proposal. Did he want to take a leap in the dark despite his inner warnings? No different from a marriage, once you’ve signed the contract there’s no going back without a heck of a lot of heartache and paperwork.
England and Scotland have been divided before. The old wounds still suppurated in secret, the haves and have nots, divided hearts never sit well until someone demands the surgeons scalpel. Shouts rise. Hammers fall. Neighbour stands with fists, ready for blood. Oil flows between us all.
Martin walked to the desk and picked up the pen. Momentarily his hand wavered. Shaking, he ticked the ‘YES’ box. He placed the vote in the envelope.
‘What have I done?’ He thought.
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I just recently heard about this vote for Scottish independence from the U.K. (I live in the U.S.) I am now interested to see what will come of it.
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The vote went narrowly to the No campaign. Aside from that there will be many aspic smiles from politicians; many claims that maybe not everybody won, but at least nobody lost; the poor will still hunger; changes will be politic; less people in Scotland will vote next time.
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Alex Salmond can’t call for Independence again, well, at least not in the near future. Maybe a few more golden handshakes?
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I love both your pieces. The topicality makes them even better!
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Clever!
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Loved it. Was this your friend in the video clip? 🙂
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Oh don’t talk to me about that!! I’ve calmed down now. Do you realise that Murray actually cut off his internet a week before the voting started and swore to me that he wouldn’t vote yes ever!! And the cheesy swagger!! Geez – anything for the limelight!!
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Ram
It’s my fault.
After less than a day, her skin turned pink and her hair started clinging to her neck in sweaty loops, but she was still beautiful. So beautiful.
It’s my fault.
We’d eaten. There’d been wine. I just asked her, right there, by the side of the road. One knee, and all, but no ring. No ring.
She said ‘yes’, and everyone around us clapped.
It’s my fault.
She spotted a junk-stall across the road. Tourist tat, souvenirs, that sort of thing – and rings, plastic ones with fake gems. A modern woman buys her own bling, she’d laughed as she dashed out.
She forgot which way to look.
It’s my fault.
Now I am the besieging army, and I am the fortress wall. I shore up the cracks as quickly as I make them, but the assault never stops. It can never stop. I will not let it.
It’s my fault.
It’s my fault.
It’s my fault.
@SJOHart
160 words
http://sjohart.wordpress.com
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What a great take on the prompt, and how tragic. I can feel the angst. Very well done.
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Thanks. I’m glad you thought it made good use of the prompt. That was the aim! 🙂
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Really enjoyed this. Wonderful idea of her now being the besieged castle – fantastic.
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Thanks – I’m glad to get your feedback and perspective. I intended it to be him (the narrator) who is the besieged castle, and the ‘ram’ is his guilt, but it’s good to see another way of reading the story. Thank you.
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Oops, I meant him – sorry –
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I thought the structure and use of italics really complimented the piece. The repetition worked really well too. Powerful use of voice. Well done.
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Thanks, Mark. I’m glad you thought so.
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lovely structure that you’ve implemented in the context of the narrative wonderfully
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Thank you – that means a lot.
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Oh, this is so powerful. For anyone who has ever felt guilt over the death of a loved one, this rings so true. Really moving.
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Thank you.
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The extended metaphor you use for guilt is stunning. That constant battle the mind has with itself is so expertly captured. Goodness, you made me care so much in such a short space! So well done.
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Thank you. I’m so glad to know you thought so. 🙂
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sad but well written – repetition is effective
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Thank you.
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As a Good Man Does
@ymberlenis
149 words
Please forgive me, Antonio, my love.
I know this is all my doing. In my fervor, I discounted your warnings, your pleas. I believed better of them. But of course you were right. You always were, amour. They didn’t understand, didn’t want to, didn’t try.
I was naive, the trance of a blissful future only broken by the flashes of torchlight against their blades. And for that, I am alone, whilst here you lie, wed instead to the earth that covers you.
I have been hiding for days, waiting for this moment to be alone with you one last time. I will leave tonight, to find another village, another home, another existence. Someday, I will find a wife, as a good, upstanding man does, and we will have so many children no one will question again. This is all I can do to repay the debt of your blood.
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Tragic. Also tragic that in this modern age there are still places that will condemn a person to death simply for loving someone of the same sex.
I’ve been very lucky to find more support than not, but it took me until I was in my middle years to come out. It was tough growing up ashamed of who I was.
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“…wed instead to the earth that covers you.” Powerful image. Nice job.
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So well-written, but so sad.
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Very moving. I really like the ‘voice’ in this. It’s hard to do this effectively and I think you really pull it off.
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So tragic and pwerful. Really well done.
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Powerfully moving and some beautiful language; as the others said, I love the line ‘wed instead to the earth that covers you.’
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‘wed instead to the earth’ -great line
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Dwayne III’s Bargain
May 8, 2149
Corporal Dwayne Charles Hicks III lay in bed, gazing upon a land that appeared not to have changed in thousands of years. Just a kilometer away from this tableau out of the Arabian Nights sat the mighty spaceport controlled by the United Federation of the Middle East.
A little over two weeks from now, Dwayne would be on the planet Cronos 7, which was near the constellation Taurus. He hoped his team would find nothing, but he couldn’t help wondering if the sinking feeling stomach was something more than acid reflux caused by the awful fare served up by the Military.
“If I come home,” Dwayne bargained with whatever deity might be listening, “I’m going to propose to Stacey, and I’m going to retire from the Military. Don’t know what I’ll do for work, but it’ll be better than making her worry every time I go away.”
150 words
Thalia from @UndeadNether
Also published at http://hickswyliedna.blogspot.com/2014/09/dwayne-iiis-bargain.html
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Wow, a futuristic take. I love the end, the uncertainty– “If I come home…” Great job.
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I hope he made it, but I feel like he didn’t…
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This is great! Best kind of s-f, timeless and true.
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Really enjoyed it. I’m a big fan of SF and its so hard to do with a 140-160 limit. Well done.
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I liked the futuristic take – but it’s an age old ‘bargain’
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This is what I love about this group–so creative. Fascinating take on the prompt. Wonderful!
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A World of Waiting
John shut the curtains on both view and sun. They were for later. It had seemed simple at first. So few words to create; a minute – micro – task, really. Instead, he was staring at the current blank page, sitting in silence, wishing he were anywhere but shut away from distractions, waiting for the whispered words to rescue him, crumpled papers mounting in the bin by the bed. They were slow at it, though he knew they would be there. They always were, somewhere, hidden away. Until then, he and the room were wed together; the simple proposal – proving anything but – accepted on opening the door. He would not leave his world of waiting until they were documented. Only then could he consider other offers. Tempting though they might be, he would prove himself faithful. He hoped they would hurry though. He wasn’t keen on the concept of a forever commitment, vow aside. He liked life outside four walls.
(160 words)
@FallIntoFiction
#FlashDog
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“Until then, he and the room were wed together; the simple proposal – proving anything but – accepted on opening the door.” What a great twist on the marriage proposal. I felt like I had to hold my breath while I read this . . . John made me wait with him.
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Thanks very much!
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Hah! Lovely idea. I like the idea of being faithful…
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Thanks – yes, the idea of being faithful appealed to me too and seemed to fit with the word prompt in context this week. Glad you liked it.
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liked the alternative take on the prompt
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Interesting take on the prompt–“he and the room were wed together; the simple proposal. . .” So many ways to interpret that picture! Good descriptions here.
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I also agree with the other comments on the fact that the faithful element of the piece adds something unique and the final sentence says so much.
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Bishop to Castle Four
by A J Walker
The Count was doing it all as it was supposed to be done. Nice meal, champagne, flowers and then down on one knee. He was thoroughly delighted when, after an appropriate pause, she agreed to be his wife.
Julia had looked down on him, as he struggled to balance his knee on the stone rampart floor, thinking how pitifully small he appeared in the moonlight. All the clichés, quite endearing and yet embarrassing too.
The Count couldn’t believe his luck, the elegant woman had come from nowhere, stolen his heart. Everyone in the town was enchanted by this mysterious beauty.
Across the bay from the castle Malcolm lay in the hotel room wondered how Julia’s night was going. His wife always seemed to close the deal, but there was inevitably an element of doubt. His phone buzzed on the pillow, the message simply read, ‘I’m getting married, again.’
Malcolm smiled and reached out for his wine. The con was on.
@zevonesque
(160 words)
#FlashDogs
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Oooh, shivers. No fair that it’s only 160 words. I want to read the rest. Fascinating beginning. 🙂
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Great story! Like the opening to a thriller…
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Nice twist!
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Like it.
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This needs optioning as a film RIGHT NOW. Love it.
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Very nice.
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Wow. Great ending!
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boom, killer last line … loved it
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Great story. I loved this!
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great title – story’s not bad either!
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Clever twist. Quite amusing the way the tale unfolds.
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So good AJ. The build-up was great and the ending fantastic.
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Tamara Shoemaker
@TamaraShoemaker
Word Count: 159
Castles of Air
I’d known her since that time I pasted mud across her face, when we made pies in the gutter and called them chocolate. Her pigtails morphed to ponytails, and then her hair swung low across her back. I proposed marriage to her in the apple orchard when we were nine.
She baked apple pies for the reception instead of the traditional wedding cake. We made plans, she and I, for the honeymoon—a trip to Europe, to walk the old ways through history as we tour the ancient architecture, visit graves and smile at the Beefeaters in London’s Tower.
Fate called her before her time, left me to walk alone, to finish the pages of this book we’d begun. The pictures blazed in full color until she went; now their edges are tinged with brown.
I went to Europe anyway, painting the chapters with washed-out colors, gripping my aching brush to render the unfinished stories, building castles in the air.
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That was lovely…but now I want an apple pie.
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‘Tis the season. 🙂 If you’re anywhere in the Shenandoah Valley of Virginia, I’ll be happy to oblige. 😉
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Lovely! Fits the mood of the picture perfectly 🙂
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Thanks so much! 🙂
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Lovely time lapse of her hair – I wafted off with this story Tamara! Very nice.
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Thank you, Avalina! 🙂
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This is a lovely voice, too. Hard to get this kind of stuff right; it can sound sentimental, but you tread that line really well.
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Thanks so much! I wasn’t sure if it was overly sentimental or not; I’m glad it didn’t come across that way to you. 🙂
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“to finish the pages of this book we’d begin”- lovely imagery.
My mother baked an apple pie for her second wedding so you plucked a personal heart string for me.
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Thanks, Casey. What a great idea for a wedding; pies are way better than cake (in my book). 😉
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Lovely. So soft and sad. Beautiful word pictures.
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Thank you, Sarah. 🙂
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This is so lovely and heartbreaking, especially: “Fate called her before her time, left me to walk alone, to finish the pages of this book we’d begun. The pictures blazed in full color until she went; now their edges are tinged with brown.” Great job, Tamara!
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Thanks, Annika! I appreciate it. 🙂
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Lovely details here, and the way you move time with images makes the nostalgia feel real to the reader. Great take!
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Thanks, Grace, for the lovely compliment. 🙂 Much appreciation. 🙂
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This was really moving. Well done.
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Thanks so much! 🙂
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Beautiful. A very touching story. Loved it.
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Thank you, Marie, I appreciate it. 🙂
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fantastic – really poignant
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Thank you muchly! 🙂
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Leaves me sad and wistful and wanting apple pie. Such a large story you have written in so few words. I’d like to know these characters better.
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Aw, thank you, Eliza. I appreciate it. I may or may not have been craving apple pie while writing this… 😉
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Great entry. The last line was stunning. Thanks so much for all the reading and reviewing you’ve done for everyone – A #FlashDog shout-out didn’t seem like enough.
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Thanks, Mark! Glad you enjoyed it. I had a little extra time this weekend that I don’t normally have, and I loved the prompt and the creations that were inspired from it. It was a pleasure. 🙂
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The Crusader
365
The stark light of the mirror betrayed the price. Line etched eyes, echoing the slashes Elijah had scarred into faded grey walls. Counting days in a life outside time, insubstantial to the staccato world lying beyond the bars.
730
An existence spent subjected to threats, propositions and fears. Strengthened only by cherished memories of Krak Des Chevaliers’ twilight interior. The caress of interlaced fingers, of shared pulses racing. Walking in shadow, the pain of longing giving them courage. Seeking escape, seeking their true self. Stolen clandestine moments, lips entwined, shared breath.
That fateful morning, whispered promises of a future, a ring slid onto Elijah’s finger.
Walking outside together, apart, the police waiting in the morning light.
1095
Elijah rested his elbows on the railing of the balcony. Chavaliers lay before him basking in the afternoon light. The hotel door opened, Firas entered, older, hurting, still beautiful. Wearing those very clothes he wore three years ago.
Fingers interlacing.
Together.
1
160 words
@imageronin
#flashdog
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Great use of number sequence. Very nicely done.
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thanks Tamara, a different style/thematic approach for the writer who lurks deeps within me ..
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or in other words … meh
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really enjoyed your tale btw … “edges tinged” wonderful imagery
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Thanks! 🙂 And your writer doesn’t lurk so terribly deep within you – it peeps out with some stunning images each week. 🙂
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Very clever structure.
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thanks A, not quite sure it worked but wanted to try something different …
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I think it works really well.
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Really fine story. Beautifully written.
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thanks V, pale in comparison to your work, will be thinking of yellow butterflies all day I reckon
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Beautiful and haunting. I always love your images. Your writing is so visual and lovely. It always remains with me.
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Wow thanks for those kind words Sarah, really appreciated ..
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Really enjoyed the structure, it’s easy to lose count of days since any one thing, no matter how life changing, so to keep such a count speaks of dedication and importance.
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Thanks Casey, have really appreciated all the comments made by the FF collective re structure … and pleased that the significance for the narrator came across in terms of time .. thanks for reading and commenting IR
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Very different. It works – but somehow I’m not sure why! It reminds me of something I heard about a student studying the famous psychoanalyst Lacan – the student said to his teacher
‘I feel excited and I don’t know why.’ The teacher said, ‘yup, you’ve understood Lacan.’
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Excellent analogy (especially for someone who grappled with Lacan for many a year) … thanks for reading and your comment, really appreciated …
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I love the detail of the count resetting to ‘1’ at the end. This was moving and beautifully written.
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Thanks S, an odd way to end a tale but it just happened as I wrote, as if Elijah himself was resetting the narrative (the best explanation I have to be honest) … really delighted you found it moving and thanks for the comment IR
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How clever! Love the structure. I think it did work very well. Beautiful writing, too.
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Thanks Marie, really pleased you enjoyed it … as always the work of others at Flash Friday makes me strive that little bit harder each week and learn that little bit more … thanks for reading and commenting, really appreciated … IR
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great use of dates to encompass the passing of time
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Fascinating use of time. I kept reading this one over, marvelling at how much story you wrote in 160 words. Wow. Good stuff.
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thanks E, not sure I got that much in but the idea was one of those that forced itself onto the page, therefore really delighted you enjoyed it … thanks for reading and comment IR
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The Fairy Tale
She defeated the cab driver, who drove away cursing. She put her trusty smartphone back into its case and gazed up at the soaring tower. Just inside, the concierge pinned her with a fierce glare. Undaunted she swept on. She’d try every door if she had to. Mounting the staircase she made for the top floor. She guessed where he’d be – he’d always built castles in the air and dwelt among them. In her bag, the phials of precious liquid clinked.
The scent of him drew her along the passage ‘til she paused, hand on heart, outside his room. Inside she slipped through the shadowy quiet to stand by his bed. His eyes did not open but his lips curved. When he’d asked her to marry him, all those years ago, she’d thought that he was rescuing her. Slowly she bent and kissed his damp forehead, removed the empty syringe from the cover beside him.
156 words
@clenpen
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Chilling! Great job. 🙂
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great last line
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Scheherezade’s Dream
160 words
@van_demal
That’s the view he likes best, he tells me – that specific perspective. The foreground obscured, truly a castle in the air.
That’s reality, I want to tell him. Ancient stone constructed on the firmest of foundations. We are the fairy tale in this modernity. That’s what I want to tell him, but I won’t. Why disabuse him? I need him to be the romantic, the dreamer. How would it work otherwise?
He maintains a parody of relaxation, his chiaroscuro mood. How they like to be in control, for it to appear effortless! His jaw keeps flinching, chewing my question over.
My proposal.
It makes it sound like a business proposition. Makes it sound like what it is. But he doesn’t need to know. Let him see the fantasy, let this rich man dream of rescuing maidens and living in castles if it buys his name. What’s a name to me? Just a breath of air. Names are easily disposed of.
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This is beautiful. And intriguing. And disturbing. And, and, and. So well done. “What’s a name to me? Just a breath of air. Names are easily disposed of.” Loved it!
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Wonderfully sinister. Nice.
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Such a lot going on here. I want to know more about these characters.
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Beautiful and sinister.Great writing.
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Wow. That’s super interesting. That last sentences really got me!
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Lovely and mysterious. Your writing also seems effortless. I love the line, “He maintains a parody of relaxation, his chiaroscuro mood.” The image of him chewing the question over. It’s so visual.
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great use of language
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Thanks for the comments all. I’m glad you enjoyed it so much!
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Crusading on a Sunday afternoon
@Making_Fiction #FlashDog
160 words
She’d left him, again.
She’d be back.
He’s a catch.
Sure, she moaned about his bedroom and the Power Rangers bedding. She complained about the once-white socks now covering the floor like permafrost. She wore gloves while picking up the radioactive coloured half-eaten cheese-puff packets.
She even nagged about the lack of intimacy, caused by his mum’s sonar hearing and the subsequent banging on the door, “Geoffoooorrey! No more hanky-panky.”
Geoffrey (or Pug_Face9 as he liked to be called), wasn’t born for this mundane existence, or stressy girlfriends.
He was a crusader. A king of lands. Master of civilisations. Destroyer of beasts. Creator of worlds. Minecraft pioneer.
Who needs glass windows, when you can have a flat screen TV? Any view you like at the touch of a button.
On the screen, the creation that had taken months. The castle of Krak des Chevaliers. And in the sky, clouds that spelled “Will you marry me?”
She looked.
She ran.
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Stunning. “…once-white socks now covering the floor like permafrost.” For some reason, I kept thinking of Sheldon from Big Bang Theory while i was reading this. It made me smile. It made me sad. So well done, as always.
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He sounds charming!
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Brilliant, very enjoyable – I laughed heartily at the ‘Minecraft pioneer’ – great ending too.
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Very witty 🙂
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Loved this.
It’s like reading about my younger self. And if she can’t handle his Power Ranger sheets and digital block building abilities then he’s better of without her.
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Great images. I love the socks covering the floor like permafrost and the cheese-puff packets in radioactive colors. I’d run too. Terrific.
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I can see it all so clearly. Fan-freaking-tastic.
Always love a Power Rangers reference.
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absolutely my favourite…. laughed out loud at the power rangers bedding……great tale actually reminds me of several ‘boys’ I work with 🙂
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Loved the characterisation and detail in this, and I felt the burn at the end. Great story. 🙂
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Hilarious and a bit scary. Lol! The characterisation is so good. Love that title, too.
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really enjoyed this! great fun
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Brilliant. I can’t believe how much you did with the word budget. So clever making the castle Minecraft. Great work.
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Mea Culpa – Judge’s Entry, Just for Fun!
Margaret Locke (@Margaret_Locke)
160 words
He’d been promised glory and honor, a place in history as a defender of the true faith. What he got was mind-numbing boredom. An impregnable castle and months of nothing but marching and stewing and raging at the enemy.
So he’d impregnated something else. Not on purpose, of course. The market maidens had been a welcomed distraction for lonely nights and lonely knights. How could he have known Marisa’s father was a sorcerer, a practicer of dark magic?
He’d done the noble thing. He’d asked her to marry him. But that had not been enough to appease Ahmad.
Eight hundred years into the future, Ahmad had thrown him.
The women in the marketplace still cast surreptitious glances at him, appreciation for his face evident in their eyes.
He never noticed. He only had eyes for the castle. Besieged by remorse, by loss, by the sense of what might have been.
“Forgive me, Marisa, for I have sinned,” he whispered. Daily.
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Great job, Margaret! You excel at time-travel stories… 😉 Wish you could flesh this out and make it into a book. I’d love to read it. 🙂
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It could happen! Although of course I’d have to come up with a happier ending, being a romance author and all…
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You could definitely handle it. 🙂 And I do love me some happy endings. 🙂
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Oh, this is so sad. Great job evoking emotion in your reader! 😦 I am a huge fan of time travel stories as well! Keep them coming, please…
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super -the last line/word says so much
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The Vanishing Wedding
Evan Montegarde
160 words
It was to be a quick proposal and immediate wedding, choreographed to accommodate a Wall Street schedule, Krak des Chevaliers seemed the perfect place for the ceremony; until it became clear it contained a roaming wormhole. Brando proposed as scheduled on the ramparts then vanished when Sheila merely turned away to add blush. The entire Mariachi band imported from Guadalajara for the reception was missing, only their fabulous sombreros left behind. The tussled Mother of the Bride insisted she had just made ravenous love to Benjamin Franklin in a colonial Inn behind Independence Hall.
Only Shelia’s Dad Alastair seemed unfazed as he staggered to the highest tower of the castle, He opened the ancient wooden door there and walked through. Seconds later, he walked out clutching a dark green bottle capped in wax.
“Now that is well-aged single malt,” Alastair exclaimed as he opened the plug and drank deeply from the bottle Rob Roy had handed him a minute earlier.
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Fantastic! Deft humor and a wormhole. Loved it. 🙂
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Thanks, I’m glad you liked it.
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Bloody fab. Just fab.
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Thanks Avalina.
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I uttered several ribald shouts of laughter at this. Very good job indeed.
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Thank you.
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I know Rebekah wanted us to think outside the box but wormhole?
Awesome! (Wonder where that band ended up?)
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Thanks Brian, I had a lot of fun writing this tale.
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Too funny. Now that’s a wedding!
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Weddings are stressful enough as it is…..add in a wormhole and the stress level goes cosmic. Thanks for the nice comment.
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Now this is something else all together! Fantastic.
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Thanks! I am really happy you had fun with it.
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just lovely, thanks for a really enjoyable read
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Thanks for the great comment, I am really glad you enjoyed it.
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This might be your best story yet! Hilarious
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Also I love all the names
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Thanks Taryn, I had a blast with this one. Sort of want to keep writing about it to see where it leads :).
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loved the mix of characters from history
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This is awesome – funny and witty and with a great ending.
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Wrong Motives
@_HannahHeath
160 words
Mira liked history, otherwise he wouldn’t be here. Walking out to where she stood on the balcony, he stared out at the massive castle walls. So huge and beastlike, they scared him even more than the plan formulating in his head. And Mira wasn’t exactly calming, either. Squinting through her glasses, chattering about how priests had been martyred at those very walls. Of all the things to talk about.
Abruptly, he grabbed her hand. “Do you want to get martyred?”
What? No! Wrong word.
She stared at him, the reflection from her glasses almost blinding. “What?”
Ready to puke, he corrected himself, “Do you want to get married?”
He regretted asking as soon as he uttered the question. He knew what she would say. It wasn’t fair to have asked.
A huge smile. “YES!” she nearly shouted.
Crap. Now he’d done it. But she was a good cook and he was so very tired of eating his own burnt food.
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Lol! I burst into uproarious laughter at “Do you want to get martyred?” What a great ending line, too. Well done. 🙂
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Creased up here. So very funny Hannah, all of it – (you are becoming one of my fav writers here).
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Thank you, Avalina! That means a lot to know that you enjoy my writing. =)
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Ha! You led me up the garden path, here. Very clever.
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Now that’s a marriage of convenience.
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Thanks people! I’m glad you all liked it! I had a ridiculous amount of fun writing it. =)
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Very funny….now some would say marriage and martyrdom may mean the same thing. Loved the last line.
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great comedy!
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“Do you want to get martyred?” Bwah ha ha! Best. Line. Ever!
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Haha! Thank you!
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Grooming
@accidentobizaro
149 words
The proposal took me weeks to write. You don’t often get the chance to apply. As soon as I saw the ad, I chased referees, called in favours, bartered wildly. Anything to escape the drudgery.
Life in the palace: that’ll be different. You’ve got status, as a husband. Perks. French cuisine. Library card. You can just go for a run, outside, whenever you feel like it. I mean, look. Even this holding room’s got a window. That sun. It’s so bright.
It’s been a while, now. I wonder how the assessment’s going. They’ll be in again, tomorrow, the two of them, on those chairs next to the fridge. They ask the weirdest questions.
I think I’ve done OK, so far. The next round’s practical. Tasks, tests, group work. I should be all right, as long as I keep my eye out. Can’t have anyone pushing me down the stairs.
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Great take on the prompt. Love the details: “They’ll be in again, tomorrow, the two of them, on those chairs next to the fridge.” Excellent work.
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Thank you!
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‘French cuisine. Library card’! mppgggghhhhhh! Really en-joyed this – (I also creased up at your Twitter name) 🙂
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Oh thank you! 🙂
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Haha! This is good. I wonder if they will accept….
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really lovely, library card would definitely be a clincher for me …
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haha! Thank you 🙂
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Your tale got me at “French cuisine” and a “Library card”. The two joys in life indeed. Very entertaining.
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Haha, thank you! 🙂
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I loved this. I too found ‘Library card’ just wonderful! A clever and witty piece.
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Thank you very much!
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great sense of menace
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The Newsroom
@voimaoy #flashdog
160 words
I wanted to be here. Outside the window, the City of the Butterflies. The Crusaders fortress. The calls to morning prayer.
I had an assignment here. I was covering a war.
She stood framed on the balcony. My muse, here. Kim. Asian cheekbones, black hair, photographic genius. We could work so well together.
But she wasn’t my partner. She was with Jeffrey. At first I thought they were father and daughter, but they were a couple. Why?
“Wake up, Rick.”
“What a sight to wake up to. Marry me?”
“Stop it. It’s time to get up.”
“I’m serious. Marry me.”
“I’m serious, too. Jeffrey sent me. We have to go now.”
We headed downstairs to the newsroom, typewriters clacking away. Jeffrey handed me a cup of coffee. “Here, drink this.”
“What’s up?”
“Butterfly migration. Look out the window.”
Yellow butterflies were everywhere, swirling over the towers. Kim started snapping pictures.
“What’s that about?”
Jeffrey smiled. “An omen of peace,” he said.
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More beautiful stories Voimaoy. Compelling dialogue and such a magical end – I was really there with the clattering typerwriters, coffee and butterflies. You flashdog you.
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Thank you, Avalina!
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Lovely!
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Thank you so much!
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Another beautiful story. Sad that is feelings aren’t returned.
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Thank you for reading, Brian. Maybe, when it comes to love and war, you never know…
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Such beautiful images. I love the butterflies at the end. Lovely story.
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Thank you!
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such evocative imagery as always V, for a moment I was lost in yellow … thank you
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So glad you enjoyed. Thank you.
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No matter the mood I always want to be in the worlds you create. Always such lovely things there.
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You are so kind to say so. Thank you.
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What a lovely story.
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Thank you so much, Marie. Really appreciated.
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great imagery and lovely last line
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Thank you so much for reading!
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I want to go to the City of Butterflies. You make it sound fantastic.
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Thank you,Tamara. Much appreciated.
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Broken Window
@hollygeely
156 words
Jim threw open the blinds and took a deep breath of fresh air. They were finally on vacation! He knew Steve was going to propose somewhere romantic. He hoped it would be on the beach –
He blinked.
“Was there a castle yesterday?”
Steve set down his book and came to the window.
“What the crap?” Steve said eloquently.
Jim closed and reopened the blinds. The castle was gone and in its place long-necked dinosaurs ate leaves off of tall trees.
Impossible, real-live freakin’ dinosaurs.
Steve’s eyes were wide.
“This window is teleporting us through time! We could see history unfold before our eyes! This is amazing!”
Jim pulled the cord twice more.
Outside, a T-Rex devoured the castle from earlier.
Twice more.
A pterodactyl dressed as a clown threw a pie at the window.
“On second thought, I’m going to ask for our money back,” Steve said.
Jim thought that was probably for the best.
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Brilliant. The pure disappointment when something amazing doesn’t live up to their expectations.
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I love the changing world beyond the window and then the decision to leave when the pterodactyl turns into a clown. “Jim thought that was probably for the best.” Such a great close.
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Thanks! 🙂
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This is such a fun entry. Well done. 🙂
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Great story – I love how calmly they accept what’s going on outside the window (and how quickly it becomes blasé!) I hope Jim gets his proposal, too. 🙂
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I’m sure he did 🙂
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Quirky and fun. I love, ‘a T-Rex devoured the castle from earlier.’ and their attitude to it all.
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Thanks 🙂
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lovely comedy and great imagination
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Thank you!
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Love this. Well done.
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Thanks! 🙂
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I Take Thee
160 words
This isn’t a ‘Death Be My Lover’ kind of tale. Not that he hasn’t tried – he has, on his terms. Then, one irrational night when I was sad and scared and sought comfort in his embrace, I knocked on his door.
“Elope with me,” I begged.
He turned me away, saying, “It’s no fun like this.”
So, now Death and I, we have an agreement. His promise of forever I will accept sweetly only after a life of hard running. He’ll give me chase over land, sea, and air; I will taunt him as befitting my nature, because no creature mocks Death as well as I.
He will laugh, indulging my hubris even as he haunts my mortality, and I will run for so long when he appears for the final time my first instinct will be to run, again: even as I’m grateful; even as I’m tired; even as I say yes to forever.
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Bittersweet, I like it.
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Thanks!
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What a twist on the proposal. Unique. Excellent. Great job.
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Gracias, Tamara 😄
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love ‘indulging my hubris’
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Thank you, Pam. The story might seem a bit flippant, but I did attempt suicide a long time ago. After failing, I decided not to ever make my passing such an easy conquest, again – no matter how tired I may be, the beauty is in the fight. That’s what inspired this piece. I’ve had this interaction with Death a million times in my head, might as well put finger to key and expel it onto the internether.
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I really enjoyed this – so unique, and it drew me in right away.
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Thank you, Margaret! Really happy to read that!
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A Dangerous Game
John Mark Miller – 150 words
@JohnMark_Miller
“Madame, would you do me the great honor…of becoming my wife?”
Evelyn’s cheeks had glistened with soft tears as she whispered, “Yes…my knight.” Her radiant eyes had warmed his soul, and with a shock, he realized that he had fallen hopelessly in love with Evelyn Devereaux.
But it’s a dangerous game, courting a thief.
Now he lay in the hotel room for a long moment, gazing at the impregnable walls of the old castle and savoring the memories locked within them. A few feet away, in the hotel safe, lay the heirloom diamonds he had quietly lifted from Evelyn’s dresser.
Hot tears scalded his face. He had slipped through Evelyn’s defenses, but had not emerged unscathed. Her heart was surely broken, but his was forever lost.
It really is a dangerous game… courting a thief.
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Love the last line.
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Love it! Reminds me of To Catch a Thief! Love the line: Her heart was surely broken, but his was forever lost.’
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I’d like to think he goes back.
Great use of splitting the story with the framing of the “courting a thief” line.
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A most dangerous game indeed to court a thief. Well done.
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I love your use of repetition… “it’s a dangerous game, courting a thief.” Really punched it home, the opposite emotions he’s wrestling with. Great job, as always.
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Ooh! Nice twist. The repeated line really drives it home.
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Nicely done! Great depth in your characterisation.
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great ending and repetition of phrase is very effective
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The Crusade
Henry was kneeling when Marion made her proposal, scrabbling in the dirt beneath her furious gaze.
“I want a divorce.”
He ignored her, eyes down, brushing away at the curved edge of a drinking bowl.
“Did you hear me? I’m done with your stupid quest!”
He tugged at the rim of the cup, forgetting his archaeological training in his need to not hear. His fingernail tore on the metal and his blood splashed into the plain looking cup.
And then he knew.
“Henry?”
Marion stepped down into the pit, crushing priceless antiquities with her thoroughly unsuitable shoes. Henry stood, swung the bloodied cup and added a fresh jet to the draught it already held.
He buried her in the dig site, then returned to their room, overlooking the Templars’ last redoubt. He was lonely, but he knew he needn’t stay that way.
Not anymore.
“Marion,” he commanded.
The blood in the Grail shivered to the sound of her answering laugh.
160 words
@Karl_A_Russell
#FlashDog
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Woo hoo– bloody marvelous!
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Fantastic spin!
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Well done – creative! Sinister and creepy, too.
Could you please enlighten me as to what this #FlashDog tag is I’m seeing on so many entries today?
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Great supernatural ending.
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Creepy. I love it. Nothing like shivering blood.
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nailed it again Mr R, fabulous piece of writing …
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Wow, great take on this. Enjoyable.
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Wow! Wow, that’s amazing. I got so lost in the first paragraph or two, I forgot it was ending in only 160 words, and I hit the end like a brick wall. So, so good. I want to know the rest of the story. Surely, that’s not all. 🙂
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Really like the twist on a marriage proposal, a fine and compelling read (as usual) really chuckled over “Did you hear me? I’m done with your stupid quest!” –
What woman would miss the chance to go on a quest?
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All I could see reading this was Harrison Ford and Karen Allen having one of their ‘spats’… great work!
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great story but best bit is ‘thoroughly unsuitable shoes’!
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Cardboard Castles
I unpack my suit and shoes, and lie back on the bed for a rest.
So, this is it.
I position my gaze out of the window while my mind’s eye wanders restlessly. I smile, suddenly remembering the day when she asked me to marry her. She was rather indignant when I declined- in fact, I just laughed, of course, and laughed.
But today, she will become the princess that she always was. Her transformation will be complete; this is the end, the happily ever after. The girl that I remember will be gone.
“Hello there!”
She pops her head round the door. “Found your room okay, then?”
There is already a tiara twinkling in her hair.
“You look so…so grown up!” I whisper.
She just laughs, of course, and laughs: “Well, I am twenty-six you know, Dad!”
My memory is clinging to candles and cakes, to fairy-tales told, to cardboard castles built.
I don’t want to give her away.
160 words
@Donnellanjacki
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True magic.
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Aww. This is so sweet and touching. Good job!
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Really lovely. Very sweet.
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Perfect.
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really lovely …. thank you
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Beautiful. I admit to a few surreptitious tears after reading it; my throat aches thinking of my own children and their fleeting years. Loved especially, “My memory is clinging to candles and cakes, to fairy-tales told, to cardboard castles built.” Gorgeous.
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Lovely,lovely,lovely! And the title is just perfect.
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Thanks for the kind and supportive comments and for taking the time to leave them. So very much appreciated!! 🙂
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Aw! This is so sweet. It reminds me of my dad on my own wedding day. Beautiful work.
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absolutely lovely
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Oh, this is very sweet. Well done! I like it!
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I don’t expect to win anything for this, really. It was more for my satisfaction than anything else. Twistless fluffy stories are usually outside my range…
The Glory of Gloria
A glorious day it was, and he lay on his back, basking in the sunshine that streamed in through the wide, open window of the castle… thinking, as always, of Gloria.
She permeated every fibre of his being, every second of the day. And it had been so for years. Many warm years, since he had fallen completely and irrevocably in love with her.
Today was a special day, and today he thought of her more than usual, which was saying something. Four years ago, on this very day, he had proposed to her. It had been a grand affair, with a ballroom full of rose petals and himself down on one knee, gazing into her tear-filled eyes with such love shining in his eyes that a mother’s love for her daughter would be rivalled.
On this day, four years back, he had asked her, ‘Gloria, will you marry me?’
The answer had been glorious indeed.
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This is nice, the glory of requited love.
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At first I thought your comment was part of the story!! Nice sum up in the final line.
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like the use of Gloria/glorious
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Fairyfail
160 words
Dear suitor,
Hello! Thank you for your engagement application. This is a task many a man would die for. First and foremost, physical fitness needs are paramount in order to be successful, and as such, we urge you not to give up based on a few pesky hurdles.
Requirements are:
-Travel resilience
Must be able to ride or walk for days at a time
-Shrewd judge of character
Lately, pirates have been seen on Twitter (#showmethemoney) bragging about tossing passengers overboard to keep the fare and avoid the island.
-Be Species Conscious
Knowledge of endangered Draconis Occidentalis anatomy required for sedative suppository to be effective
-Peak Reflexes
See previous requirement
-Fireproof clothing
No waking the Princess while singed naked
-Good time management
Must get in, get out, and get off the island before sedative wears off
Let us know when to expect you,
Sincerely,
The Queen and I
Your Highnesses,
Nope, nope, nope, fuck you, and nope.
Sincerely,
Prince Charming
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Funny. Great take on the the prompt! I love the prince’s reply.
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Haha, thanks!
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Very creative take. Funny comeback on the prince’s part. 🙂
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Hehe, thanky mucho, Tamara!
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LOL! So much to like here! Engaging and compelling read.
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Thanks Avalina! Glad you enjoyed it!
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Haha! Too funny. I loved this!
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Haha, score! Mission accomplished 😀
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original and funny!
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Thanks Pam!
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Awesome use of the prompt. I love not only that Prince Charming might use “fuck you” but that he’s perfectly justified in doing so.
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Haha, thank you. That’s exactly where I was going with it. Glad you liked it!
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Tourists vs. Ex-Pats
by Nancy Chenier
@rowdy_phantom
159 words
Tourists vs. Ex-pats
The first time Ari visited, I pegged him for a tourist. He clutched his mother’s hand when Mina nosed his pockets. No native kid from here to sunrise was intimidated by goats. I linked fingers with him because we shared an age and an incongruity.
“Deema, leave them alone,” Ommah said, rolling out flatbread.
“But they’re like us.”
She sighed. “They are and they aren’t.”
###
Ari returned at the time of conquest, when a citadel crouched over the shepherd camp. Bolder, he clambered up the slopes to stroke the coarse hides of the animals. I greeted him, startling him, our shared language emerging from my sunbaked face.
###
He visited one last time, when bombs crippled the walls that centuries never shattered. Goats abandoned, I took cover in the village.
“I came back for you” he called, leaning from the hotel balcony.
The ground growled under my feet.
“We’re alike,” he said to my hesitation.
“We are and we aren’t.”
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This really tells a whole story, which is fascinating given the flash restraints. Nicely done!
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Thank you! “Restraints” is a good word for it.
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Love the use of adjectives in this piece: sunbaked, coarse, many others. Nicely done.
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Thank you!
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Wow, this packs a lifetime into a few paragraphs. Great use of dialogue, repetition: “we are and we aren’t.” Very well done.
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Thank you so very much.
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The beautiful way you captured the backdrop of their location and that sense of wanting to belong is wonderful. I would have loved to have read more!
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nice sense of time and distance
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Really liked the title -so much packed into this flash – very clever writing – clever use of “We are and we aren’t.” – “They are and they aren’t.” – very enjoyable indeed.
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I love the parallels you worked in as you somehow told a complete story in fewer than 160 words. very impressive! 🙂 Nicely done!
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lovely sense of the years passing
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The Curse
@okiewashere
157 words
My brother Frederic used to be a loner. He wasn’t looking bad – he was just shy. He rather stayed at the hotel to read than going out with me.
This changed when we got off the plane in Syria. A beautiful girl was there to get us to our hotel. Frederic was as smitten with her as she with him. On the fifth night, he asked Sariya to marry him. She looked at him with big sorrowful eyes.
Sariya told him about her family’s curse. Whenever someone proposed, the family member was catapulted back into the thirteenth century – exactly 13 minutes after the words were spoken. If they touched at that special moment, both would live together happily ever after. Frederic held her hand, ready to change his life. He sneezed at the wrong moment, and Sariya was gone.
Frederic never forgave himself, staring hard at the Krak des Chevaliers, grieving for his lost love.
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How imaginative! Poor Frederic, and Sariya. We need another 160 words to repair their poor lost lives.
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Undone by a sneeze! Poor things.
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Way wrong time to sneeze! Great idea.
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what a sad story
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True. The lad in the picture inspired my story.
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LOVE, NO MATTER WHAT
Brian S Creek
147 words
@BrianSCreek
Michael pulled the diamond engagement ring from his trouser pocket and lay down on the bed. He squeezed it tight while looking out the open balcony doors towards the majestic stone structure across the river.
He yearned for the day when the ring would end up where he had always intended; upon the tender finger of Sarah Chevaliers.
If only he knew how to break the curse that had ruined their lives. If only he could get his hands on the mad, jealous, toad of a sorcerer.
Michael wondered if Sarah could see him from this far away. Did she even have eyes in her new, larger, stone form? Were her legs now the battlements? Were her arms now the mighty towers?
He sighed. Until he could find a way to undo the spell he was just a man who loved a castle.
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I like your take on the prompt! Poor guy. You made me hope that somehow he finds a way to get her restored. =)
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Maybe one day he does.
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This is wonderful story. A man who loved a castle. I hope he does find a way to bring her back…
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Loved this. Great job. Maybe he can stick the ring on the point of a turret somewhere – she might appreciate the gesture. 😉 Love the imagination that produced this piece. 🙂
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Fantastic work! Really great take on the prompt! That last line…fab
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I loved the concluding line. So funny – yet so sad, too. Great!
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great – you can feel his longing
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Thank you for such nice comments.
So chuffed people like this piece. I wondered if it might be a bit too weird. I noticed how the guy was staring at the castle with such longing and the closing line was the first thought I had. I just built the rest around it.
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Correct formatting should be:
Optimism Rei(g)ned
“King Arthur will return to save the people,” the prophesy had predicted.
Yeah, right.
How those few words had energized, encouraged, and sustained me for years upon endless years—like a long-promised marriage proposal that never materialized. I’d trekked long and terrible miles in war-torn and soul-broken cities, searching for the catalyst, for that convergence of earth-shattering events mighty enough to re-awaken him from eternal slumber.
I’d walked among the wounded, helping and healing along the way, positive that the power of their anguish and pain would beckon him back.
Nope.
I’d forayed into famine-stricken lands, bringing sustenance and words of hope, assuring people that Arthur’s arrival was imminent.
Nothing.
I’d mediated the divide between peoples, despairing that political differences could create such cruel hearts. This, certainly, would summon him.
Not a chance.
I’ve grown tired. Immortality really sucks. I should keep searching—perhaps visit the scene of some new Hell-on-Earth horror?
Nah, I’m good here. Nice view.
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This is really nicely done, Annika. You do a great job of capturing the feelings of futility throughout his immortal life; even threw in some alliteration too. Loved it! Especially the line, “Immortality sucks.” Well done. 🙂
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Merlin! I love me some Merlin! I really enjoyed this story, from the cleverness of the title to your descriptions of all Merlin has done to try to bring about the return of the Once and Future King. And then to imagine him saying, “Nope, done, just gonna chill” was perfect.
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I love this one, the jaded retelling of a crappy immortality, while preserving some of his early hope. The man in the picture now has this voice for me.
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Thanks! I’m a huge Merlin fan, so the picture just screamed present-day Merlin to me. And he looked extremely comfortable. 🙂
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Ooo, I really like this. Great take on the prompt and smooth add-in of the proposal.
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Thanks! I *might* have forgotten to look at the “word of the day” until the last minute so I had to find a way to make work that in at the very end. I’m glad you thought it was smooth. 🙂
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Unfolding Love
158 words
@priyanka14
He considered himself the luckiest man once. The love of his life had said Yes. He earned decently. They wanted to live together forever.
Gazing out of window of the hotel room all Philip could see was astound fort that seems to have been alive since ages. He had known it from more than 20 years now. The view hasn’t changed a bit. He is lying placidly on his hotel bed for hours now. He kept hearing laughter of his heart. Can anyone be second time lucky?
He had met Ida in the same city and never knew he would be visiting this place ever after she left. But he had to rush in back because of an email. It could be a joke. But he is waiting for the history to repeat.
She left unannounced when all he wanted was her. Mean, she was, he thought and looked back at the letter, signed by Miriam Ida Philip.
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Nice job!
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Thanks for reading and liking 🙂
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lovely title
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Thank you so much for reading and appreciating 🙂
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Actually, Rebekah, I don’t know how to do formatting in a comment. But every second paragraph should be ital. Can you tell me how to do it, delete it, and let me resubmit as well? Thank you.
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Sure thing! to start italics, insert an i between < and its opposite. To end italics, bracket /i with the same < and its opposite.
Sorry to be a bit vague here, but WordPress doesn't let us explain it more clearly.
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Rebekah, in honor of National Talk Like a Pirate Day, “Ahoy! Thank ye matey for a fixin’ ma mess. Arrr! Dragonesse!” I hate that I complicated your day & I greatly appreciate your patience and help!
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Arrrrrrrrrrrrgh! a pleasure!
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Ty again!
Obstacle
@5ahara1
166 words
Reclining, he considered his proposal. The thought of her lips curving into a smile at the sight of the ring made his heart pound.
His fingers still burned raw from where he had scrubbed. Blood really does stain; even skin.
He inhaled, imagining her sweet fragrance. He imagined caressing the length of hair he guessed – no, knew – was hidden under her scarf.
The task hadn’t been difficult. A means to an end. An end that would be joyous. Fitting.
He smiled as he went over the words he planned to say. “I know we just met…” But he knew she loved him. Her chocolate brown eyes would warm at the sight of him.
The husband was a “chill wind” in his desert sun. He hadn’t even uttered her name as he died. She deserved better.
He rose, impatient to find her. He longed to hear her honeyed voice say, “Yes.” On his way to the door, he kicked aside the knife still glistening with warm blood.
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I like the interplay of emotion with action. I think the alternating italics and regular text is a good strategy in emphasizing how compartmentalized these two aspects of one individual is, until the last paragraph brings them crashing together.
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(That’s in response to Sahara.)
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This is so disturbing. But great writing. Thanks for sharing!
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Ooh, Sahara, that is creepy. Well done – I like the interspersal of the italicized and regular text; it heightens it all.
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Ooh, creepy! I love the opposite extremes paragraph by paragraph. Love, hate . . . this reminds me a little of Macbeth’s wife (out, out, damned spot), but without the guilt. He seems very un-sorry, yes? 😉 Great job.
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A Good Show
160 words
By M. J. Kelley (@themjkelley)
The sheets folded like cream across the mattress as she rolled through them, twisting her body to avoid the morning’s light.
As she cocooned, the sheets uncovered his body. He awoke.
His head lay at one end of the bed and hers at the other.
Her eye shadow had bled, lipstick smeared–her face like a child’s watercolor–hair still in an elegant rope braid.
He gripped her foot. “Let’s get married,” he said to it. He kissed the big toe. She muttered in French and gently pulled away.
“She enjoyed you last night.” A voice came from beyond the reach of light.
It startled him. A figure sat there.
“I don’t remember.”
“A good show,” said the figure.
He got out of bed and clothed himself. “Who are you?”
The figure laughed like a donkey.
“Leave by the balcony,” the figure said.
“But there’s no stairs…”
Her eyes fluttered open. She stretched. “You’ll have to fly then,” she said.
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That’s chilling. Well done.
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Thank you. Appreciate the feedback.
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Wow. Starts of dream like and happy then suddenly it’s so chilling. Dark stuff.
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Thanks for reading. Appreciate it.
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Something tells me he’s about to get tossed from the balcony. This snippet really makes me want to read more. Nicely done, and you didn’t even break any rules! 😉
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Haha, thanks, Jess. I squeezed by with my implied themes. I think you’re onto something with your balcony prediction 😉
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Wow, your vivid detail is really good. Talking to her foot, kissing the big toe, her face like a child’s watercolor. Great job.
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Compelling and disturbing. Great piece of flash.
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Erk. This is disturbing! But I like it. 🙂 Great story!
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unexpected ending and a great last line
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Ooo, intriguing. I like how you set it up as if he were the one in control of the situation (with her as disheveled as she is), but then the tables turn with that last line.
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@jujitsuelf
160 words
Cacophony
“Do it for me.”
His voice was honey over silk, sliding across my skin. I buried my head in my pillow.
“Dear writer of mine, come out and play.”
I didn’t write him with the ability to make everything an innuendo.
“Give me the castle, make Katrina propose to me and I’ll leave you alone.”
Like he’d left me alone last time when I’d promised him his own spinoff from my novel.
“Fine,” I mumbled.
He smiled. I know he smiled, it slipped down my spine like ice water.
“I’ll write whatever you want but get out of my head.” I was pleading, no shame left.
“Why would I do that?” He laughed, smooth and wicked. “This is where I was created. You’re stuck with me. Now, get your laptop and get writing.”
I did as he said. It was the easiest way. Maybe he’d let me sleep if I gave him what he wanted. But somehow, I doubted it.
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Fortunately my characters usually are trying to find a kinder writer rather than trying to make me make them happy. But man, I’ve been there at times. Well done!
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Scary how accurate this is. How many times have I had power struggles with the characters in my books? LOVE the word play: “…honey over silk, sliding across my skin.” Also, “it slipped down my spine like ice-water.” One of my favorites thus far.
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Great idea – really adored “Dear writer of mine, come out and play.” – you captured this torture so well.
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Love the concept! It can be so true. Pesky characters. =)
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‘like honey over silk’ – wonderful
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A smile that drips like ice water down one’s spine–such a great image, and so telling (as great imagery tends to be). I love how you externalize this creative struggle
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Her Eyes. 154 words. @LucciaGray
I’m back in the same hotel, overlooking the same Medieval castle, and lying on the same bed where I begged her to marry me and start a new life in another continent.
I met her when I was an international exchange student in Homs, preparing my PhD in petroleum engineering. I felt the unexpected thump of love at first sight when her supple fingers sunk into my stunned hand, and her warm honey eyes melted into mine.
My tutor, who introduced us, proudly announced that his only daughter was shortly to marry his brother’s son, her first cousin. I failed to dissuade her, and left, alone.
Too many years later, I read her letter one more time:
‘Although you are always with me, it’s time we meet again. Please come for me. Now I can leave’.
I looked at the picture in the envelope and sighed.
A child smiling at the camera.
Her eyes.
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I like this.
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Oh, so much story behind the story. Would love to read a fleshed-out version of this. Well done.
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Beautiful!
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This was lovely. Well done.
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Thank you for reading and commenting:)
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lovely – you packed so much in
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Thank you for reading and commenting 🙂
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I like how you set up that their separation was all her doing, but then the letter reveals a missed opportunity on his part.
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Yes, perhaps he left too easily… well, he was young, in a foreign country, with deeply rooted and strict custums… still they have a second chance now 🙂
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Because (148 Words)
Because she said no, I find myself adrift. I am wanderer in a strange land where all life’s vivid colors have turned to shades of grey.
I still hold all of those dreams in my memory, my castles in the air, forever lost. They linger, mirage-like just beyond my window.
But I lie in the cool dark, her words a burning tattoo on my heart. “We cannot be. We are too different. I am promised to another.”
She swept away in a whisper of jasmine and bergamot, and I cursed the differences that fracture acceptance.
“We are too different.”
And yet we are not. Does she lie on her bed and think of me? In the deepest night does she call out my name?
When morning comes, I’ll move on once again, but tonight I’ll dream. I’ll hold her in my arms again and pray to never wake.
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Very poetic and contemplative.
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Thank you!
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“I am wanderer in a strange land where all life’s vivid colors have turned to shades of grey.” Just wonderful, thank you for that enjoyable tale
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Thank you so much.
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Love the use of language, it’s very captivating. And the imagery is amazing. I especially love the last line. Great job!
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Thanks, Mary. 🙂
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Beautiful writing. Thank you.
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Thank you!:)
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Beautiful. “She swept away in a whisper of jasmine and bergamot…” Such lovely imagery.
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Thais, Tamara. Much appreciated.
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‘burning a tattoo on my heart’ great line
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Thank you!
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I’m always swept up by scent imagery–and bergamot and jasmine is such an intriguing blend. Also, the grounding the concrete imagery offers strikes a god balance with the abstract nature of the speaker’s internal struggle.
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Thank you for your lovely comment!
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A Letter Home
Gawain sorted through the photographs, deciding which to include. The family who posed for him had thought it a joke when he asked them. He wiped his eyes. The last letter from his mother had been in someone else’s handwriting.
Dear Mother,I have wonderful news. Marion said yes to my marriage proposal. We will have a small ceremony here before returning home to you. I’m including some more photos. Now you know that I will not be alone once you are gone. I could not be happier.
He finished the letter and sealed it in an envelope with the photos. Postage was as close as he could come to paying for a ticket home. Most days the life of his letters was the only thing that kept him going.
The phone rang when he was already asleep on the bed.
“Gawain? The hospital just phoned me with the news. I’m so sorry.”
Words : 156
@CarinMarais
http://www.hersenskim.blogspot.com
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Oh, lovely. Sad. Beautiful. Well done.
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So sad, but such an oblique take on the prompts – really impressive.
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good alternate focus on the prompt
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My heart aches for Gawain, yet my optimism holds out hope for him in the identity of the caller at the end…
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Tom Smith
@sunderland101
Ever After – 158
The Prince stared at his castle. Is he still alive? The “he” was the king, who remained bed ridden.
It had been weeks since his arrival in that room with that woman asking him that question day after day after day. She was obsessed with becoming Queen. He wished he had never met her.
The performer enchanted the Prince. She stood juggling three apples when she looked like she ought to eat them. “No!” She dropped her props, the crowd, angry at her unprofessionalism, dispersed. The Prince helped her pick up the apples, happily eating one when offered, that’s when things got a little hazy.
He couldn’t believe what he was doing, but he had to. “Yes!” He wanted to see the King before he died.
“Really?” He nodded. I’m going to be Queen. “You won’t regret this”
You might, the Prince thought, that arsenic took too long to kill the King, I’ll use something else on her.
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Ooh, chilling. Nice job. 🙂
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a good take on the fairytale
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Differing Views
The words were out of my mouth before I thought about the consequences. Closing my eyes I tried not to think about wedding dresses, who could sit next to Great Auntie Dora and whether liquorice all-sorts in little net bags were naff or not as wedding favours. Maybe she’d let me come here every year on my own to recharge my batteries. No she’d want to be with me all my waking time and even in my dreams. God I feel like I’m suffocating.
Why oh why did I say yes, it must have been the drink. This place is amazing the view across the bay is breath taking. Wonder if he’ll let me come here every year with my friends.
That girl downstairs with her friends looked nice
That man on the balcony looked nice.
Returning year after year, same week, same room; we’ve had a good life together. It’s not an affair; it’s a match made in Krak.
(160 words)
stellakateT
#Flashdogs
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Lovely last line. Great job. 🙂
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I liked the switch in viewpoint
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Thank you so much for sharing your story! A reminder that while all stories are welcome, it needs to be between 140-160 words to be eligible for winning. If you’d like to edit and resubmit, I’m happy to swap them out or delete this one. Just let me know.
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Blast! I knew that, and don’t know where my mind was at the moment! (Right now, I’m getting to pin everything on pregnancy brain, so perhaps I’ll use that.) Oh well, next time. I more just wanted the challenge/practice and feedback
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Oh, and the last comment starting with “Blast!” was in response to Rebekah. Everyone – thank you for the feedback! I was afraid the subject would be trite; overdone. I’m glad it still spoke to people.
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The only way David could judge the time was by the slowly dimming light around Arla’s castle. It had been three days since he’d asked her to marry him, the three longest days of his life. He’d knelt down at the royal banquet and pledged his troth, swearing fealty to the kingdom with which he had waged furious battles for so many years. But once he’d met Arla, he could no longer see monsters across the battlefield.
She’d loved him too, or so he’d thought. Arla didn’t have an answer for him at the banquet. Nor did she have one on the first night, or the second, and by the customs of his people, he could wait no longer than sundown tonight.
Just before dark, a shadow rose from the castle. Even in the dim light, David knew Arla’s form from the others of her kind, and as she flew towards him, he knew that peace had come at last.
160 words
@drmagoo
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Enjoyed this. Great job.
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Great story, and a punchy ending.
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good ending
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I love that not only is his heart at stake, but so too is peace between the kingdoms. Nice transformation of the line “no longer see monsters”! I love the reveal with “her kind” then the confirmation with her flying.
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@jujitsuelf
158 words
Homecoming
“This is where we’ll be landing?” Adrianna stared out of the window. “Ingenious. How long has this structure been in place?”
“Many of this planet’s years,” Seyeq replied.
“And what do the natives call such constructions?”
Gods, she was beautiful. No other being in the universe had such delicate lilac skin.
“Castles.” Why was he croaking? Idiot. “I’d…er…I have something to ask you.”
Adrianna smiled faintly.
“Marry me?” Why had he blurted it out like that?
She kissed him before his panic attack bloomed further. “Of course I will, fool. Now land this thing.”
Seyeq bowed. “The planet is ours, a gift from my father.”
“Remind me to thank him later.” She slipped her arms around his waist and kissed his neck. “Much later.”
Seyeq shivered but concentrated on settling their ship onto the landing plate, only relaxing when the castle walls rose past their windows and blotted out the alien yellow sun. They were home.
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Love this. “Why was he croaking? Idiot…” Make me laugh. Excellent work.
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What a great idea – a planet as a wedding gift. Really enjoyed this!
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good angle on the prompt
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Gluttony
Committing a deadly sin is an experience of the damned.
When it ends with the words ‘Marry me’, you might as well hurl yourself into the inferno and save Lucifer the bother.
She targeted him from the moment she saw him standing in the lobby. Catching his eye, she smiled and as she sashayed past, whispered in his ear ‘Room 621’.
A Pantone 7427 fingernail pushed the elevator button and, to heel, he followed her inside. Like the pro that she was, she halted the elevator and, somewhere between the third and fourth floor, she owned him.
In her room, he feasted on her; gorged himself until his stomach ached and, fire in her eyes, she fed him. When there was nothing more for him to take, she drew out the words from his bruised lips.
When he woke she was gone. The air was putrid with her scent and he longed for redemption.
154 words
@_sarahmiles_
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Love the title in relation to the story. The images are striking: “… he feasted on her; gorged himself until his stomach ached.” Great writing.
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dark – but good!
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Very striking use of language. Love it.
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‘Godisnjica’
160 words
David Shakes
@theshakes72
Congealing blood has settled in the folds of our unkempt sheets. His face is pale alabaster, the angry slash below source for the pools; his undulating form landscape for tributaries to feed them.
He’s found a peace neither of us knew in marriage.
He’d proposed in this room – such an offhand way to ruin a life.
He was on the balcony, cigarette in one hand, coffee the other.
“Of course…we should marry,” he’d said – his back to me.
I was lying supine, a light breeze playing across goosebumped flesh.
We’d been here two days – known each other three.
I couldn’t resist the tortured artist …until he began to torture me.
So many “sorries”, too many “never agains.”
It was his suggestion to come back here, to recapture what was lost.
I can’t get those years back, but my dignity is restored.
I kiss his cheek; leave a tip for the maid and head out to the square.
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just wow sir, imagery leaping off of the page … bravo
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Wow there is so much here to love. Nearly every sentence jumps off the page and throttles me: off hand way to ruin a life, tortured artist torturing the lover, the twist on getting back what was lost. I like the murder up front and center with a more gentle send off.
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Wow. This is just excellent. Chilling.
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Simply stunning.
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Your imagery… amazing: “…his undulating form landscape for tributaries…” Beautiful writing.
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“I was lying supine, a light breeze playing across goosebumped flesh.” I really like this line. Amazing imagery and fantastic story.
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Very real. Very believable. Great, great writing David. ONE of my fav lines is ‘He’d proposed in this room – such an offhand way to ruin a life.’
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Fantastic flash!
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Brilliant. Well done! This was such a great story of long-deserved revenge.
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super – ‘his undulating form …’ is great
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Wow, what vivid descriptions in that first paragraph, and they work horrifically well. “Such an offhand way to ruin a life” – nice.
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Yearning
The words stuck in my throat as she turned to face me. Ever since we had left the markets, senses filled with spice and humidity the clamouring voices had beguiled me. Teasing me with exotic temptations. Yet I had pressed on, always in her shadow, till the guide had led us tourist cattle into the quiet twilight of the castle.
Her steps echoed, clack, clack, clack. Gunshots that split the twilight, I followed, intoxicated, enraptured heart pounding. Her blonde hair cascaded over her shoulders, her floral dress, a realm of roses, clinging to an hourglass silhouette.
She stopped, examining the eroded hues of heralded invaders. Preoccupied, ignorant to my presence. My heart in my mouth, I reached into my pocket, feeling for the declaration of my love. Reaching, searching, fingers enclosing.
Her breath quickened at the sight, hands extended, lips parted. Words tumbling, pleading.
It mattered little, my blade silencing her fear.
I adore love at first sight.
Gabor Z
160 words
Authorial declaration:
Currently visiting Image Ronin (someone has to apparently) and this first ever flash fiction venture is all due to him plying me with red wine and rum into the early hours hours after arriving … so blame him.
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Bravo, Image Ronin for chasing another writer toward the dragon fires. A good one, too, it appears. I love the tone in this, the final line that wraps it up. Chilling and excellent. Thanks for contributing.
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you can blame him but he can’t take the credit – great sense of place
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Well, then, thank you Image Ronin for the plying because this one was great. I love how there is a hint of his stalker-ish-ness throughout, enough that the blade doesn’t come out of the blue, and yet not so much that the blade isn’t still a surprise.
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Every Picture
@geofflepard 160 words
Bastards.
He’d done their bidding. Helped draft the script. Let himself be filmed with a knife to his throat. He knew they’d pay the ransom.
‘We get the money, she’s yours.’ The girl lowered her eyes. His bride. She was beautiful. Demure. ‘She’ll marry you; you live like rich man.’
Why did he believe them?
‘Big wedding. Here.’ They’d showed him the castle.
It hadn’t been easy, persuading his family. He knew what they thought. They’d told him of their ‘shame’; but he knew they’d pay.
He was elated when they said, ‘The money’s come.’ Like the biggest high.
‘We go to hotel. Big secret.’ The blindfold was a precaution, they said. Why did he agree?
When the door closed he ripped off the cloth. Yanked back the curtains. How they must be laughing. A bloody picture. Four walls and a picture.
He lay on the bed, thinking about his fiancé. He knew she wanted him. She’d save him.
Bastards.
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Nice way to round out the story, beginning and ending the same. Enjoyed the twist; only a picture. How disheartening. 🙂 Great job.
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Funny that, a similar thing happened to me on my wedding night… 🙂 Nice idea. The things you do for lust (sorry) LOVE. I like the repetition ‘bastards’.
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good use of dialogue
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No.
He was about to lose consciousness on the bed, his hands pressuring his abdominal wound, when the ambulance and the police arrived in the street, the shrill sound of their sirens shouting through the open hotel room window and bouncing off the ceiling.
Quickly he rehearsed the words: “She said she surprised me in this romantic hotel room with a view on the Krak des Chevaliers for a reason. Then she asked me to marry her. I said no. She got furious. She completely lost it, officer. She grasped the butter knife from the breakfast tray and stabbed me right here. Luckily she missed any arteries. I had to fence her off and pushed her over the balcony. I had to, officer.”
Suddenly voices screamed behind the door. It exploded, shards of wood flying everywhere. He was too far gone to feel surprised.
Through slowly closing slits he saw a big blurry stain of blood coming at him.
158 words
@bartvangoethem
#FlashDog
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the butter knife bit made me squeal/flinch … fab tale
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I love your writing. Just brilliant.
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Well done sir! The butter knife is brilliant…
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A butter knife!!! OUCH! May as well use a spoon–it’s about as sharp. 🙂 Nicely written, enjoyed it. 🙂
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“I just had to push her off the balcony!” Love it!
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Written in true ‘Bart’ style! You are never quite sure if you’ve missed something… lovely
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HA! She wasn’t done with him just yet. I like this new, Dark Bart. And the humor survived the trip. I am happy. 😛
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This took me a couple of reads to ‘get’, but when I did, it was worth the effort. So clever, and dark, and I loved it. Well done!
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good ending
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Bottle of Beer
159 words
@stellakateT
The painting was an abstract of red paint. Like one of those magic pictures you stare at for ages and then you see a famous landmark or an animal. Three figures of men; one was wearing a bowler hat, one had half a face and the last one was just a smudge. She ate her cereal thinking about the red shoes her husband loved her to wear. He would enjoy this just as much. It was an investment for their future.
Arriving in Krak he realised why his mate Freddie was always going on about it. The views were spectacular over the bay. Taking a cold bottle from the fridge he swallowed it quickly. That picture was the last straw, at first he thought he’d slash the canvas but that would be vandalism. Her blood splashes greatly improved it. Now she was a work of art and he was free, no extradition treaty. God he loved being a widower.
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And I love this story! What a great last line, too.
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Ouch. Great final line. Enjoyed this. 🙂
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Great idea, I could visualise it. Really liked ‘Her blood splashes greatly improved it.’
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Wow, wasn’t really expecting that ending. Great write! I always enjoy when one element can be carried throughout a flash piece and your use of the color red, did just that.
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Thanks for all your kind comments 🙂
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creepy but good!
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“The Proposal”
by Michael Seese
160 words
True love always prevails. Or so Richard hoped.
His associates scoffed at his plans. “Marry the princess? You?”
Who’s laughing now? he thought.
Richard lay on his bed, staring at the castle, waiting for the signal that his proposal had been blessed. The imposing insular walls no longer seemed unscalable.
The King had staged a tournament to determine who was to be his only daughter’s suitor. Archery, jousting, and other barbaric pursuits. Having been born outside of nobility, Richard could not compete. Instead, he circumvented the charade, and homed in on the girl. Moving with the swiftness of an arrow, he swooped in, courted, and wooed her. Within a week they toasted their betrothal with wine.
Wine laced with poison.
Richard’s proposal was simple: give me her hand—and the throne—and I shall give you the antidote.
He knew the King would acquiesce. For true love does prevail. And no love is truer than that a father has for his daughter.
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Great job, Michael. Richard is a very bad man. 🙂 I like how you begin and end with true love.
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Clever! This made me laugh, and I really enjoyed it. Well done.
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good twist!
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Ooh, nicely done. Seems simple enough of a story, but that only showcases your talent in rendering it so.
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Last Chances, Second Glances
@mishmhem
159 words
Cora watched as the man, Captain Wright, dozed. She had treated his injuries, but she knew that there was more to his suffering than physical pain. He had been sole survivor of the shipwreck that had taken his peoples’ lives.
He was the last of his kind, as she was hers.
She did what she could to make him comfortable, giving him a view of familiar scenes rather than antiseptic steel-gray walls, but even so– he was still prisoner to his isolation.
As his dreams turned darker, she called to him soothingly. “Captain … you are safe.”
She waited as he shook off the last of his dream and stared at her. She saw his expression fall as he muttered, “Only a computer…”
She paused, the sky in the window darkened in response. “And you, are only human, we all have our burdens to bear.”
“Figures,” he sighed. “I meet the perfect woman, and she’s a computer… Marry me?”
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I enjoyed this. Vivid writing, nice twist. Great job.
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Excellent twist. Well done! Great story.
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great title and good ending
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@blackinkpinkdsk
160 words
Free Verse
The bare walls breathe poetry as he exhales his sins. It’s all about angles and slopes, though he daydreams in stanzas. The timing of life rings the same: right conditions, obtuse people, acute diagnoses, negative reactions, positive assholes, zero purpose, no hope. Angles and slopes easily become reality lived.
Architecture—that’s his thing according to the fancy certificate displayed on his meager office-wall back home. Roughly 6,000 miles from where his head now rests. He should know the exact figure, number, measurement but it’s all become meaningless to him. Out of habit, his mind is still listing things, grouping them together.
The foreign monument mimics the weight of her memory. Her vast presence that’d fill a silent room without a word. Her inky fingertips tasted of poetry as she’d trace his mouth before they’d kiss. Her eyes replied before “yes” left her lips, but he couldn’t contain her chaos. He reneged and cancer slipped its ring on her finger.
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Gorgeous imagery; heart-wrenching ending. Great job.
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Thank you.
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Powerful ending, and so sad. Great work.
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Thank you.
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‘…though he daydreams in stanzas’ – just stunning. So moving. Excellent.
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Thanks a bunch.
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love the line ‘It’s all about angles and slopes’-
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Thank you.
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Such lovely, seemingly artless turns of phrase. Haunting. Love love love the mixture of architectural and poetic terms. This would be on my short list for sure.
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Thank you, kindly.
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Sacred Vows (160)
He had vowed never to set foot near the Krak again. But here he was, the Templar fortress looming outside his hotel window.
The vow had been made, before the Grand Master himself. He had kissed the spot on that white tailbone, right above his buttocks. Repeated all his lines. Sworn to fight to the death. Was it his fault he couldn’t die? Surely it was the hand of God.
In a thousand years, Louis had tried hundreds of ways to end his life. Others had been eager to help. Even the Saracen sword that severed his neck had somehow failed, as the executioner watched in horror while skin and bone fused back before his eyes, leaving only the faint white circle that necklaced his throat.
After being celibate for a thousand years, he’d decided to risk everything. He was going to propose to Mira. Would he live or die if he broke the vow? The Templar graveyard lay ready.
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Wow, what an interesting story – I want to know what’s going to happen! Ack, you can’t leave a cliff-hanger like that! 🙂 Love this; reminds me a little of Groundhog Day – that whole trying to die without actually succeeding thing. 🙂
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I enjoyed this. I’m fascinated by the history of the Knights Templar, and I think you did a great job capturing their mysterious power here.
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lovely mix of history and myth
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Love this – love the celibate angle and how creatively unique that is.
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Unrequited
by Laura Carroll Butler
143 words
The Grand Tour: afternoons absorbing art and architecture and nights in search of cheap entertainment and companionship. In Florence, the first night, wine-sodden Michael, his arm around Davis, kissed him. Not the first time, but different. Friends since childhood, Michael was the one who held a sobbing Davis the day he found out his mother had died. For Davis, the feelings grew, but the friendship came first.
Davis was in bliss. A week later, in Venice, Michael left the bed early, distracted, anxious. Hours later, Davis heard him outside. He had two women, their faces covered in hideous masks.
“I’ve a headache,” Davis begged off. It would be many hours before Michael returned that night, if he returned.
When he came home to England, Davis would find a proper lady and marry her as was expected. For now, he watched the night pass.
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Some powerful images in this one, especially liked your alliterative first line: “afternoons absorbing art and architecture.” I love Florence. Great job.
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Thank you!
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Bittersweet story, and a great take on the prompts. I feel sorry for Davis, and for everyone who had to hide their true selves in a similar way throughout history. Moving work.
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Thank you.
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Love the imagery in that first paragraph. Nice. This reminds me a bit of Brideshead Revisited – I just watched the film a short while ago.
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sad …
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Another fascinating take on the prompt, and such a big story for the word budget. You could write a whole novel from here.
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Rejection by Mary Cain (Word Count 148)
The distant sirens and the fine wine could not drown out the answer she gave him. That simple word, bitter and cruel, mocking him like a sick tune.
No.
His fist tightened, and without a second thought, he slammed it against the thick wall, swearing through gritted teeth. Blood trickled from his knuckles and the skin turned blue.
No one ever said no to Sebastian Law. Yet, she did.
“Stupid woman!” He flung himself onto the bed, staring out the open balcony door.
He didn’t need her!
He clenched the small jewel black box and clamped his eyes shut.
He didn’t need her. But all he could see was the way her green eyes lit up like candles, hear her quick witty tongue that always rendered him speechless, feel her kiss, so gentle he could still taste it on his lips.
“Come back. Please.”
The silence answered, “No.”
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I love the untold story here. He gets his rejected for his arrogance yet he’s also a bit pathetic. Well done.
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Wow, you make me really feel his pain here. So sad, the anger covering the heartbreak. Well done.
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A great closing line and a well-executed, gripping story overall. It seems to me that the unnamed lady had a narrow escape, though…
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I agree with Sarah – nice showing of his character, rendering him pathetic in his arrogance.
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good line ‘mocking him like a sick tune’
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Sir Erik the Western Star- Hero of Erelia
(158 words)
When Erik first told his parents about his other life they’d smiled in that “we know better” way parents do. But what was once childish imagination became “delusions”, even “disease”. Doctors came full of promises but Erik made sure they left with nothing but frustration.
Here he was Erik Weston, 19-year-old loser extraordinaire. His parents had long since given up, but he didn’t mind. If they knew him in his real life, they would be proud. Every night when normal people went to sleep, Erik went somewhere else. He couldn’t say how he’d discovered the passage to his other world, but the people of Erelia were sure lucky he had. Without him their world would have been lost a hundred times over. It was no wonder Princess Myra had accepted his offer.
As Erik felt the world of bills and ramen noodles slip away, he awoke in his true body.
Myra rolled over, “How’d you sleep, my love?”
~Taryn Noelle Kloeden
@tnkloeden
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He “felt the world of bills and ramen noodles slip away,” is a great line. I love how the worlds are reversed–our real world is his sleep. What a great twist. Nice work! 🙂
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Thank you!
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I completely agree, such a simple line yet with profound meaning. I loved the idea and story, very intriguing.
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Ooh, I’ll take his second world over his first any day. Great job, Taryn. 🙂
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Great story. I love the line about doctors leaving with ‘frustration’, and I wonder how Erik manages to do this. Clever take on the prompts!
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Great story…. really liked this one….
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original and interesting
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The Proposal
148 words
@FictionAsLife
He had introduced himself as Paul. What a lovely, traditional name, Jennifer had thought.
They chatted amiably as they rode their rented bicycles over the cobblestone streets to the end of town. Conversation died when they reached the dirt road up the mountain. Anticipation of the winery at the end of the ride was all that kept Jennifer going. They stopped to catch their breath on the steps of a parish church near the top.
The surprise of their presence stopped an olive-skinned grandmother stopped in her tracks. She spoke animatedly as she asked a question in Arabic. When it became clear that they spoke as little Arabic as she spoke English, she pointed to her hand. She slipped her fingers over her fourth finger and looked questioningly at Jennifer.
“No, no ring,” Jennifer said, suppressing her laughter.
The woman walked away, shaking her head and muttering.
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Lol, nice marriage proposal. I got a good laugh out of this one. 🙂 Good job.
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Thank you!
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good sense of place – I could feel the heat
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Tamara Shoemaker
@TamaraShoemaker
Word Count: 140
Waking
What dreams may come to he who waits,
Baited upon the silvery string of moonlight’s beams—
The tryst with darkness and dawn
A sacred revel of dancing shadows and fancy flights,
A brief marriage between slumber and waking.
Here, he can play the knight who rides to the castle,
Who bows before king and country,
Who woos and wins fair maiden.
Here, he rides, tall, strong, to meet the enemy,
Who returns in triumph, the honored hero.
Here, the limp is merely a distant memory,
The withered hand but a legend, folklore, fireside chat over wine.
Here, no one sees the ragged strips of flesh that cover the side of his face,
That partially blind his right eye.
Here, he is no monster.
Here, he is loved.
Here, he is whole.
Here, he proposes marriage.
But the dawn brings divorce.
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Wow, poor guy. I love this, Tamara! Nicely done!
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Poor guy indeed. Thanks, Annika! 🙂
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Gee whiz, woman. The lyrical quality to your poetry, its dazzling word choices and flow – how do you do that? I really like this. Except for the last line, which makes me incredibly sad. Nicely done.
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Umm, I think I do it the same way you do it. Your pieces always astound me, so wherever you get your creative genius from, I’ll claim that as my source, too. 🙂 Thanks, by the way. Glad you enjoyed it (sorta, except for the last line). 🙂
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I adore how you used marriage proposal here (and then followed it up with the crushing concept of divorce). Your words really make me feel for this man.
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Thank you so much. I feel for the poor guy, too. As the author, I should take better care of my creations… 😉
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This is lyrically lush. Had to give it a reread. So I could keep this one with me.
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Thanks, Grace, I appreciate it! Glad you liked it.
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wow – loved the second line esp.
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Thank you, Pam!
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Sublime
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Thanks, Dody! 🙂
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The Princess in the Tower
@EmilyJuneStreet
160 words
Marketa crouches, her pale hair pooling around her. Long ago her step-mother had feared she might escape by letting down her hair and convincing a man to climb.
“Only a marriage proposal will break my curse.” Step-mother’s provision rings in Marketa’s ears along with evil laughter.
Marketa has been trapped for 700 years. Each day a basket arrives by rope. Someday the villagers will forget her legend, and the offerings will end.
They have given basil, rose petals, an apple. She draws a sigil around the gifts in her own blood.
She works the dream-sender spell, repeating the incantation seven times as she braids her hair.
Magic blooms from her chest. She soars through Dreamtime.
How changed is the world! Yet she cannot marvel—she must hurry.
There! A likely man rests not far from the castle.
Marketa’s dream-wraith hovers above him, braids brushing his cheeks. “Come to the castle!” Her spell is fading. “Ask me to marry you!”
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Ha! I read this one after your second one–that one is a lovely stand-alone piece. I wonder if I had only read this one if I would feel like something is missing. They make a great pair. I like the shift between perspectives. I like the Venusian emblems used to work the spell.
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My stories last week were puzzles pieces, too, but they were so far apart in the line up that I don’t think anyone caught it. : )
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Yikes, I read from the bottom up, so I read your stories in the wrong order. But I’m so excited that there was more to the story – I’d love to read a fleshed-out version of this. Such a great concept. Very well written. Great job!
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Whoops! I read your second story first (I am reading from the bottom up). Excellent story – I love a good cursebreaking fairytale. Well done!
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Oooh! I like the connecting stories. That’s a really good idea! Poor Marketa.
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‘magic blooms from her chest’ – great line in a lovely take on the fairy tale
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Not a Prince
@EmilyJuneStreet
160 Words
Alex’s first view of Krak de Chevaliers stuns him. Magic taints the air surrounding it. He would walk up there now, but travel has left him exhausted. He collapses on the bed, staring at the castle as he drifts to sleep.
Stars flicker on the indigo sky like gems on velvet. A beautiful woman brushes him awake with pale braids. “Come to the castle! Ask me marry you!” Her dark eyes are desperate.
Alex wakes. The castle pulls him with almost magnetic force. In the village he finds a wrinkled man selling jewelry.
“What you want, sir?”
“An engagement ring. For a local girl.” He knows it’s crazy. She was a dream.
The peddler frowns. “Muslimahs wear no such rings.”
Suddenly the air loses its magic. Alex blinks and laughs at himself. He returns to the hotel for breakfast.
******
The villagers shudder at the mournful cry on the wind.
“It’s Princess Marketa,” they whisper. “Another man has failed her.”
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I love how vividly you craft the world with such an economy words, both the dream image and the village. I end up feeling for poor Marketa.
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Loved both perspectives of your stories. So sad he failed her. Until the next one comes!
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Ooh, this sounds like a book I want to read. Love the concept. Great rendering, vivid detail: “Stars flicker on the indigo sky like gems on velvet.” I love it.
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Cool! I wonder what Princess Marketa needs a husband so badly for… great hints at a larger story world while telling a complete story in itself.
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another great story!
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Posting the link to my entry-
https://eloisedesousa.wordpress.com/2014/09/19/flash-friday-the-beginning-of-the-end/
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Thanks for writing–I’m delighted the pic brought inspiration! To be eligible for winning, however, you’ll need to post the story itself here. Still plenty of time to do so. Thanks!
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Thanks for letting me know. Here it is…
“Run!” I scream until hoarse. Retreating footsteps stamp through my waning consciousness. The room shows traces of life; neatly laid bed sheets, empty chairs and droplets of blood scattered like rose petals, just out of sight. My ragged breaths catch on dry air wafting through soft curtains. Eyes drift over the view. I came here to marry her, not watch us die…at the Krak des Chevaliers.
“Open it!” I squint, focusing on the memory of a small velvet box.
“Would you marry this punk?”
She nods, eyes dancing with excitement. Our kiss is soft…lingering. Diamonds sparkle in the hot Syrian sun.
I look down at my hand covered in blood. Screams outside draw my attention. Silhouettes dance across the hot stone. Rifle shots splinter, then silence.
Visions of holding hands, returning from dinner. Three men waiting. Hot fingers ripping us apart; terror screaming in my ears.
“I love you” stifled in solid stone walls, forever.
Word count = 157 words
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Oops forgot my to add my twitter name : @mello_elo
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Wonderful! thank you so much for joining the crazy party!
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Wow, this is really well done. Some of your imagery is sooo good: “My ragged breaths catch on dry air wafting through soft curtains.” This is action filled and emotion-grabbing. In less than 160 words, very, very well done.
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Everything after “Open it” really sparks for me, all those vivid shards of memory illustrating a horrifying loss. I particularly like “rifle shots splinter” and “hot fingers ripping us apart”.
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Thank you 🙂
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really enjoyed this
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Thank you 🙂
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Since there’s still time:
Re-inspiration
@rowdy_phantom
160 words
The blank pages glare at me. I slam my pen across them and stomp out to the balcony. The citadel broods on its spur. I try to breathe in its stony history, but the walls remain impregnable.
I spent my advance on this trip. Bastiel had promised another bestseller. However, the last I’d seen of Bastiel was ten seconds after my refusal.
He lingered in the outside glare, dark wings flaring like a mantle.
Oh, those dark truffle eyes, that merlot mouth—and, oh, the worlds he’d delivered to me!
As he departed in a gust of heat and heartache, his parting words lacerated me: “It would’ve been your best.”
“It still could be,” I murmur to the machicolated towers.
Machicolated—a term from the last novel he wrote through me. I still know it.
The turrets wink at me through the twilight. I brandish my pen and assault the notebook.
From now on, I’ll be my own damn muse.
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I think the muse was with you when you wrote this piece. 🙂 Hopefully, he was a little more agreeable than the one in your story. Great, great take on it.
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This was great – I loved your description of Bastiel, and I love the positive note the story ends on. Who needs Muses, eh? 🙂
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Oh, I like this unique angle. Well done.
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‘a gust of heat and heartache’ – great line
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Thank you, everyone! You comments are wonderfully encouraging. I’m so falling in love with Fridays.
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Raymond rotated his head towards the window and every neck muscle locked into place. His clothes were drenched with sweat and the sheets underneath him soaked.
“It’s a magnificent view,” William said as he hurried to gather his things. Raymond tried to speak and his lips trembled, but his mouth was frozen.
“’Why yes it is, Billy. That’s why I brought you here. Because I’m a big dolt,’” William said, cackling as he imitated Raymond’s deep voice.
Raymond’s mind screamed but his body would not move. His limbs hardened and soon his heart, lungs and even the little synapses in his brain would solidify from the poison.
William held up Raymond’s briefcase and kissed it. “I’ve never been good at breaking up soooo… thanks for the love, the companionship and all of your secrets.” He kissed the briefcase again.
Raymond’s vision darkened as his eyelids grew heavier. “Oh, if you were looking for an answer, it’s definitely no,” William said.
160 words – @hlpauff
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I like the set-up here. You had me wondering what was up with Raymond, his odd robotic movements in the first paragraph, and then each paragraph after that drew me in. William’s parting words are a gut-punch.
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Oh dear, poor Raymond. Great job portraying William’s treachery.
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Oh, poor Raymond. What fools we are for love… Great story.
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Nicely done.
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ooh – creepy
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Till Death Do Us Part
I always watched her.
There were two thousand soldiers stationed at the castle to fend off the back-to-back enemy attacks. Pitiful soldiers with pining wives left behind to tend the wailing children!
From the day I laid eyes on Marina, She belonged to me. I proposed within a week.
She walked with the grace of a dancer, with her delicate neck precariously balancing her fine face and her head full of curls! I always worried about her heart, so naïve. I vowed to watch over her.
Every day from my perch at the guard tower, I watched her. The soldiers eyed her with lust dripping from their eyes, but she naïvely continued to bring them food and medicine. She was setting herself for the disaster.
Disaster did strike when I saw her with Aman.
Now, from my prison bed, I watch her tomb in the castle.
I was duty bound to protect her honor. I had to fire my rifle.
Pratibha
@needanidplease
160 words
(Yeah, another twisted tale! 🙂
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I like the sense that the narrator is projecting his own weaknesses on the other soldiers (“lust dripping from their eyes” as opposed to his “watching over her”). I also like how he has convinced himself that he is the noble one and that she is at fault for “setting herself up for disaster).
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Thank you necwrites.
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Oh, well done. I agree with necwrites’ comments. Your line “Disaster did strike…” sets up your twist well.
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Thank you Margaret.
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Oh, this gives me shivers. I really want to read the full-blown story. Great job.
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Thank you Tamara.
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I really hate your narrator, which is how I know your story is effective and well written. Great job.
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Thank you, SJ.
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Another fantastic write you share here. Always enjoy your words and the twisted tales you spin.
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Thank you Grace. I am glad you are a regular reader. 🙂
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good ending
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Than you Pam.
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Qalat al-Hosn, Syria
Dear Caroline,
Opening the lens cap on my SLR camera brought back myriad memories. Would that it could have been that easy.
The aperture opened up a past full of fast-moving shots. Danger within dangers chronically raised the hair on the back of my neck. And you walked into my focus radius to assuage the horrific cruelty my SLR captured: man’s inhumanity to man.
I focus on you within the milieu. And I realize, we shall share our past, present and future in those shots; as well as in our beliefs and memories. I decrease the shutter speed in my mind, and our shared aperture on the world takes in the full panorama of what will be.
I don’t have a dark room, Caroline, but we both have plenty of shots. Will you photoshop with me forever?
Love,
Frank
*************************************************************************************************************************** Minneapolis. USA
That would be a perfect long time exposure for me, my Dear Frank!
Love,
Caroline
WC = 160, excluding title
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Really interesting set-up. Love the letter-style, and the photographic theme. Awesome.
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Thank you!
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I like the format – interesting!
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Thank you!
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Jacey Faye
150 words
@jaceythefaye
“Reflexes”
It’s cold here at night, and the streetlamps are far too bright and outshine the stars.
I imagine you a world away, somewhere warmer, with nothing between your skin and the air. (Maybe now there’s someone else’s hands, of course, but I try not to think about that.) Somewhere with no artificial light, only the white flash of your teeth under the moon.
In truth, I don’t know where the hell you are, and probably that’s for the best these days. I couldn’t trust myself not to drop everything and run, whether you were minutes or hours or lifetimes away.
I can’t trust myself at all, when it comes to you.
But if our paths ever cross again, if I someday pass you on a crowded street —
I hope you’ll understand why I pretend not to see you and walk away.
Otherwise, I might reflexively drop down to one knee.
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This is beautiful. Absolutely beautiful. I want to read it again and again and again.
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Oh, this is gorgeous, liquid, lovely. You do such a great job of layering the pain beneath the words. Wow . . . I just love this.
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This was beautiful, and the last line was so perfectly bittersweet. Excellent, controlled use of language.
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Lovely melancholia.
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lovely but sad
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A Bedtime Story From the Post-Invention Age
(160 words)
Ken Moore, weary beyond reckoning, arrived at the hotel in the hills next to the old castle. The gaping hollow that was his abdomen ached as if stricken by sad memories.
He found his friend, equally aged, equally weary, equally battered by summer heat, tending the hotel garden.
“We weren’t wrong,” Ken said while admiring the castle vista. “People can still build things.”
“Everything possible to be invented has already—”
“I know. All that’s left is combining extant things, like we tried.” Ken paused, seeking emotion in his friend’s weathered face. “Try it again.”
The old handyman glanced at Ken’s nonexistent midsection.
“Join me to the refrigerator. I’m dying; our lives can’t have been for nothing.”
So it was done. The mini-fridge unplugged and fused into Ken Moore, who gasped on the workbench for hours until death.
His old friend opened the refrigerator door and took out a frosted bottle. “Cherry Coke. I remember when these cost a nickel.”
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That last line is such a fitting wrap-up – loved it. Poor Ken. It makes me a little sad. 🙂 Great work. 🙂
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A sad Sears moment. Funny take on the prompt!
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very original
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In Good Times and Bad
[157 words. Judge’s entry, just for fun.]
Few Americans would call Syria home, but that’s life in the Agency. I can navigate Homs better than DC. That castle across the way is five hundred years older than my hometown… and Annapolis was founded by Puritans.
My only regret is all those nights that Christian spent alone, while I was here spying on some unpronounceable terrorist group. I was stunned when she agreed to elope. Maybe she was just happy that I proposed.
She was less enthusiastic about the honeymoon destination, until she saw the view from the hotel room. Working for the Agency has its perks.
For example, through the Agency I learned of the alien invasion fleet approaching Earth.
That castle’s stone walls may not stand up to whatever weapons the aliens may wield, but I bet it lasts longer than the White House.
Christian approaches me from behind, and I smile.
“I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”
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Enjoyed this one. You do a great job of including a lot of history in a few well-placed phrases. Love the ending line as well: it begs the question, just how long will that life be with an encroaching alien invasion? Excellent.
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this would be a contender for the winner if it wasn’t a Judge’s entry 🙂 …. great story with a twist in the tale
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Keep the Change
by Alissa Leonard
@lissajean7
159 words
Jon squirmed at the transformation of his colleagues from chairs in the corner to creatures with tentacles, green skin, and eyes made for nightmares. He didn’t like using them, but only they could exploit the weakness he’d found into the castle and get the jewels.
Woirgnof walked, squelching, to the balcony, ignoring Jon’s disgust. “We need to leave now to be in position.”
Jon stood, all business. “You remember the blueprints? The timetable? The rendezvous?”
“Of course.” Boirhnta’s face, lacking both eyebrows and lips, was impossible for Jon to read.
Woirgnof, however, could feel her emotions vibrating through the air. They dove into the water below. He joined a tentacle with hers and thought, “Soon now. We swim for freedom, not some human baubles. Once we have released our people from their prison, marry me.”
“Of course,” she thought back. “But let’s grab Jon’s baubles while we’re there anyway. It may bring him comfort during the changes to come.”
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Kudos on such an imaginative entry. I never in a million years would have gotten tentacles from the prompt. Great rendering. 🙂
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Thanks so much! It was fun to write…not so much to edit down to word count! 😀
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So clever! And I love the title. 😀
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Thank you! And I’m glad you love the title, I do too!!! 😀
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Jennifer Ricketts
@pearlofagirl30
160 words
Contemplative in the silence, I knew this moment of peacefulness wouldn’t last long. I wondered when she’d come bursting in with guns blazing. I gazed out the balcony door, grasping the last moments of sanity before everything blew to hell.
The door burst open, vengeance rolling in waves from this woman I loved. I sat up, the box safely tucked away in my pocket, knowing I might not need it after all.
“How could you, Robert?” Her words hung in the air, stabbing me like a knife.
I sighed. “Vic, your life would have been in danger. Now we know – we’re both assassins. What are we going to do about it?”
“You should have told me there was a hit out on me!”
“I never would have gone through with it.” Down on one knee, I opened the velvet box. “And this is why…I love you. Would you do me the honor of becoming my partner in crime?”
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Ha ha! Great Mr./Mrs. Smith feel – and I love the last line!
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Thank you! That’s exactly what I was going for! 😀
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Ooh, nice double entendre: her words “stabbing me like a knife.” Very nice. Mr./Mrs. Smith is a favorite movie of mine. Nice hat tip. 🙂
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Thanks so much! The idea just came to me. 🙂
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This was charming, like a classic movie. A very enjoyable story.
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I was thinking classic, too, because the photo is in black and white. Thanks so much! 🙂
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“Rejected”
Elisa @AverageAdvocate
WC = 160
He had melted into the bed for an hour by now, surely. Actually, it could have been hours, thirty of them. Those decades had passed in a blink, would he know if the hours had played the same game?
The sun was a hazy ball on the horizon. He felt his gaping chasm acutely, head pounding from the ache where his heart had laid.
To pass time’s lack of essence, he listened to the refrigerator’s tinks. A whole colony of miniatures lived there. With top-hats, tails; frilly dresses and bonnets– holes cut for ears.
He heard the minis scurry up and down the railings, the stairs and the elaborate castles they build in the mound of cooling rejected pastry. They had made exquisite pillars of the champagne bottles.
He considered folding himself into a jerky square, hiding in the frozen room. He imagined delighting in their revelry almost as much as he hated himself in this eternal moment dragging on.
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What gorgeous language. I love your line about “the hours playing the same game.” I love many of them, actually. “Time’s lack of essence” is wonderful.
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What an imaginative take. Love some of your phrasing: “Those decades had passed in a blink, would he know if the hours had played the same game?”, and “They had made exquisite pillars of the champagne bottles.” Excellent job.
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Yay! Thank you!
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