WELCOME, welcome, dragons and fledglings alike! We’re so glad you’re here. Fire&Ice is, like its mother dragon Flash! Friday, a weekly international flash fiction writing contest. You’ll find the details below (don’t worry; it’s easy & you’ll catch on fast!). Note that this contest will run a scant 19 sols, every Friday from August 14 – December 18. Today is Sol 1/19.
Who Are We??? You are right to be suspicious, especially if you wrote for FF back in the day and the memories are setting you trembling. Or if you’re from #VSS365 and wondering what these dragons and #FlashDogs are all about. I’m Rebekah Postupak, your fire dragon and general rabble-rouser, and my partner-in-mischief is the shimmering ice dragon Deborah Foy. It’s our privilege hosting Fire&Ice, a dragons’ lair of glowing story-embers to reignite the flash community and uplift spirits in this year that has been a year.
What’s New/Different? We’ve a whole dragon weyr at your service: twelve magnificent power-writers of flash (two each week) to judge your stories, and a valiant crew of dragon-minions to prep your stories so the weyr can judge blind. In addition to the weekly contest (Fridays) and results (Mondays), you will also find Flash! Future (Sundays, where we rave about current favorite writers & writerly things) and Flash! Past (Wednesdays, where we update you on some of our favorite Flash! Friday heroes). Come often! Read! Write! Comment!
QUESTIONS? Tweet us at @FlashFridayFic, shoot us a note here, or tap any of the judges.
§ Rebekah says: This contest is for you. Yes, you! Thank you for coming. Your voice, your words, are magic; you are the very lifeblood of this community. Welcome and welcome back, beloveds, from the bottom of my heart. I can’t wait to soar through these few precious sols together.
§ Foy says: Welcome, brave writers! It is my happiness and my honor to serve you in the coming months. Whether you’re new to flash or an old FlashDog with new fire in your belly, you are found family. Let us encourage you, support you, and share your words with the world. We need you now more than ever.
♦♦♦♦♦
Fire&Ice Guidelines:
Time: The Fire&Ice contest is open between exactly 12:01am to 11:59pm on Fridays, Washington DC time (check the current time here). Entries submitted outside of this window are welcome, but will be incinerated ineligible to win.
How to Play: Write and submit (in the comments on this post) an original story 1) based on the photo prompt and 2) including EITHER the fire or ice requirement. Pay attention to the 3) varying word count constraints! Story titles (optional) are not included in the word limit. At the end of your story, add your name or twitter handle, whether you chose the fire or ice element, and word count. That’s it!
Contest Results/Prizes: Results will post Monday morning, Washington DC time. Your prize? A sizzling F&I e-badge, our glacial admiration, and white-fire blazes of social media glory.
Those Pesky Rules: Your entry must consist of your own original work. Stories violating copyright in any way will be deleted. This is a general audience contest (no minimum/maximum/mandatory Earth age to play), so please no gratuitous sex or profanity.
Read & Comment! Making supportive comments on each other’s stories is the very heart of the Flash! Friday/Fire&Ice community. Read something you like? Tell the writer so! Be specific. Be authentic. Be kind. ♥ All writers of all levels are welcome here.
♦♦♦
Judges: Today’s judges are Craig Anderson and Sinéad O’Hart. Check out their bios on the Fire&Ice Judges page.
♦♦♦
AND HERE IS YOUR PROMPT:
Each Fire&Ice prompt includes 1) a photo, 2) a required element (choose between fire OR ice), and 3) a specific word count. Your story must meet all three requirements to be eligible to win.
Photo for Sol 1/19
Required element (choose one):
include something in the air
OR
include something in the water
Today’s word count: between 150-160 (inclusive)
In Memoriam
Her eyes were dark, cold, and barren, as though she had slumbered too long and rested too deep amid her treasure troves. She’d hoarded her wealth in her coffin of frigid water and she’d reveled in the feathered ice that softened her lair.
When they came, they were red with heat and fire. They explored her gates with their instruments. They brought with them florid flames and flashes of color. They shattered her brittle face with their spiked feet, and their hot breaths brushed frozen tears from her face.
They say anger is hot, but her fury burned cold as a shrieking blizzard. The secrets she dredged from the deep boiled to the surface and covered them in their own hated medicine. Their groans lasted far into the night until the thick ice covered them with pity and brought her peace. They smiled at her beneath the ice, in memoriam.
@TamaraShoemaker
Word Count: 150
Ice Element
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Off like lightning as usual! You’ve captured the spirit of the contest with your beautifully evocative prose (getting all nostalgic, here).
@ncscrawls
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Aww, thanks! I’m rolling in nostalgia over here. I am SO excited to see this beloved site back and full of my writerly heroes. 🙂
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How fantastic it is to get to read your words again, Tamara. Beautiful language, as always. I particularly like “their hot breaths brushed frozen tears from her face.”
Now my heart hurts with both joy and sorrow over how much has changed in the last few years. Remember our critique group? Remember our dear Rebekah and Deb living close to us? Remember writing as our primary job? I’m being too personal here, perhaps, but I’m happy the joy I feel right now at being back with this writing community has both brought tears to my eyes and made me savor what once was.
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And now I’m sniffling. 🙂 I miss us, and I do miss what used to be. We had a good thing going for quite a while. Life happens, and while there are good things, some VERY good things about new and fresh ambitions and dreams… I’ll always kinda wish we could rewind time just a bit and live backwards. 🙂
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Nancy says it beautifully! How you juxtapose heat and chill makes their cruelty and her suffering all the power poignant. Welcome back, dear friend!
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Thanks for making it possible, Ice Dragoness! 😉 I was just super excited to get to play with imagery again.
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Hooray – one to have you back writing in flash form again, two – to be first out of the gates and to set the bar crazy high. Love the parallels between the self-contained story and the return to FF.
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Thanks, Mark! I have missed seeing the “Shadow on the Grass” picture for too long. 🙂 I haven’t read others yet, but I bet you’ve topped the bar. Per usual. 😉
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Hi Tara 🙂
I enjoyed this 🙂
I love this line ‘They say anger is hot, but her fury burned cold as a shrieking blizzard.’
Frances
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Thanks, Frances! I’m a sucker for vivid contrasts. 🙂
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Wonderful start to the return, reflecting the nature of the return as well. Gorgeous imagery and as poetic as ever!
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Thanks, Steph! I feel like I’m quite dusty *achoo!* but hoping to shed the cobwebs and get back into the rhythm before too long. 🙂
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God, that is simply awful.
Just kidding!! 🙂 🙂
It’s disgusting how descriptive a person can be and have such an intimate knowledge of all things dragoney. Anyone would think you’re a dragoney author… 😉 I want to know what happens when you try to impose Feng Shui on a dragon lair…
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Well, *glances around* you just end up with a lot of comfortably dusty treasure for the most aesthetically pleasing artistry and generally fireproof arrangements. The dirty socks will have to go, but I do hope to spy an arkenstone, if I look carefully enough…
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🙂 😉 *slips arkenstone into knickers*
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LOL! Well… I guess you can have that one. I’ll put my Smaugishness away for another day. 😉
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Hahah! Weirdly, when you’ve logged in via Twitter, you can’t seem to like a post. Ah, well. Consider it ‘liked’. 🙂 Good to make contact, Tamara. x
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Such beautiful imagery! I enjoyed the elegant effortlessness of her revenge against the false potency of fire and action. They were always going to lose against her.
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Thanks! “False potency”: I like that a lot!
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Beautiful work as ever, Tamara.
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Thanks, Geoff! I appreciate it! 🙂
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Cannibalism is a measure of last resort. But desperation drives the unthinkable.
“What kind of monster would even consider it?” I mumbled, swimming in the darkest depths of self-loathing.
A mother’s love is fraught with peril. My babies’ empty bellies and sunken eyes cut me far more deeply than their silent tears, tears which disappeared in the chilly brine. I found myself teetering unsteadily between unfathomable hope and abject realism. Without food, the three of us would not live much longer. Altruism demanded I sacrifice myself to the future. To their future. But they were so young. Could they survive without me?
Their pain…
My hunger…
Perhaps I could kill two birds with one stone, as it were.
Then came manna from above. A boat of tourists, happily chatting, cameras snapping, exploring the wilds of Antarctica.
Oh, they’ll see the wild all right. Up close and personal.
“Come children,” I said. “It’s feeding time. To the surface.”
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Michael I think you posted your flash incorrectly. Nevertheless it’s a compelling story. Nicely done.
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Stunning imagery. Beautiful flash!
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Wow!! This is breathtakingly beautiful. The images you conjure up. Absolutely gorgeous. You’ve set the bar so high as usual. So happy to read you again.
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Fantastic, Tamara.
And welcome back, to all of us.
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Loved reading it. The image has been brilliantly crafted.
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Fabulous contrasts of heat and cold here. I loved the coffin of frigid water, so evocative!
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Was there ever a time when you weren’t first Tamara? Speaks volumes about your skill that you can come up with something so polished so quickly!
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I think I might have fallen asleep on the job a few times. I was chomping at the bit for this one, though. It’s been too long. 🙂
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This is beautiful writing. You’ve set the bar so high. * her fury burned cold like a shrieking blizzard* wow! (my previous comment seems to have disappeared)
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Night Fire
It’s in the air tonight. Wafting in from somewhere, skipping through the night trees, skimming across the sound.
It’s unsettling.
From somewhere beyond my sight, it comes, maybe from up in the hills, somewhere out of my failed sight.
Where there’s smoke, they say, there’s…
And there’s plenty of it.
The middle of summer.
We burn like purgatory.
We burn for work.
We burn for life.
We burn always for love.
Arsonists abound.
We are our own arsonists.
“You smell that?” she asks.
I’m thinking something else. Of course, I catch a whiff, but you know how it is, there is something else pressing in on your mind, weighing you down like an anchor.
You’re ice block frozen.
But you need to acknowledge.
You can’t avoid that.
“Yeah. It shouldn’t be.”
“I know that,” she spats.
Spats.
“Go take a look.”
So, I go.
Outside, it’s there.
Somewhere.
I can’t tell.
It’s like my brain’s on fire.
@billmelaterplea
157 words
fire element
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Beautifully lyrical. I love how you’ve used structure! Makes me think of the crack of burning things and the ever-changing height of a flame.
@deborah_the_foy
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Hi Bill. Loved the story. The use of fire and ice was a joy to read, but this bit really stood out…
“The middle of summer.
We burn like purgatory.
We burn for work.
We burn for life.
We burn always for love.”
Powerful, and that last line, so unexpected and beautiful.
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Ooohh, I love the beautiful contrasts you put in there between ice and fire. “We burn, we burn, we burn… you’re ice block frozen.” Just gorgeous. Almost tangible. Nicely done!
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Hi there – I really enjoyed this piece, particularly love that opening line ‘It’s in the air tonight.’ – Fab!!
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This crackles with energy and feels very apt at the minute as we’ve been suffering in the heat over here. Your words almost burn off the page.
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Lovely rhythm and flow. The second sentence is music with skipping and skimming starting the bars. And then the shorter lines, which are poetry-like, come in. I like how he gets frozen while everything around him burns… until he catches.
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This pulls me along powerfully. I particularly love the line “We are our own arsonists.” That resonants so much. Nicely done!
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The line breaks work perfectly. Beautiful writing.
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Excellent, breathless structure, like the narrator is gasping for air. Love it.
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So much to unpack here. I particularly the bickering tone, telling so much about the couple’s relationship in so few words.
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Reflection
The wind howled, in a temper. Stopped. And cried again. He sat waiting. Soon. It was his time soon. The bodies sat with him, but there was no one there. No one home. He was the last of the expedition. The last they’d come for. Still. The sudden silence piercing. His heart pounding. The echoes like a drum beat as he walked his final line. He looked around. Into the water. Saw the faces of his family. His wife and daughter, laughing as they played catch in the yard. Beneath the cherry tree, the blossom falling. Petals popped up from the deep. He plucked one from the darkness. Felt it soft in his hand. He looked once more, his family smiling as they cradled the new baby he’d left behind. His boy. He reached out his arm. Reached to touch them. His hand breached the surface, and he was gone.
@bex_spence
Word Count: 150
Ice Element
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Love the imagery of cherry blossoms falling in dark water! And his reaching through the frigid searching for family’s warmth…
@deborah_the_foy
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Hi Bex, I hadn’t thought of an expedition, I’m not sure why, but reading it now it makes me wonder how I missed this angle when I was thinking of my own story ideas. Your story is visually and emotionally strong, and it really reminds me of a great novel, The Terror (which was very loosely based on a true story).
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This has a certain rhythm that I loved; each sentence or sentence fragment kinda reached out and grabbed me. Fantastic use of language!
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Hi there – I love that you had this character look into the water and told us what he was seeing/thinking – really effective!! Frances
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The sense of anguish and longing in this. Beautifully done.
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This is so emotive. It’s almost like each memory is adding to his weight, making him sink all the faster and deeper. It’s like he’s going home…away from temper and loneliness and loss. Lovely use of cherry blossom.
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I love the short, staccato rhythm, enhancing the intensity. “Petals popped up from the deep” is haunting.
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I love the build up and the ending oh so heartbreaking.
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This is really lovely and very poignant writing. The balance of imagery and internal narrative is perfect.
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Great work Bex! I’m a sucker for a tale that implies a bigger story and this does that so well – I’d love to see it expanded, find out what the other expedition members saw in the water and who the sinister “they” are who came for them.
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In the cave, a murmuring sound resonates. He lifts his head and yawns. Was he dreaming, hallucinating? It couldn’t be. They’d left him years ago in this solitary glacier, alone with the tales. Why would they come back?
“Mark, steer to the left. We’re close now,” David says.
“I’m so excited, Deborah. It was a brilliant idea going back to the source,” Rebekah says, as she grabs Nancy’s shoulder.
Craig frowns and drops his shoulders. “I doubt he’s alive.”
“Don’t be so pessimistic. Eric, Karl and Tamara don’t think he is, but Voima, AJ and Sinéad are positive,” replies Betsy.
“What about you, Stephanie? Do you think he’s still around?”
Suddenly the sky darkens, out of nowhere a storm appears, lighting strikes and the dinghy nearly capsizes, dropping the crew in the ice cold water.
In the cavern, he jumps to his feet and gallops to the exit. Wow! They’re back!
The Flashdog howls, excited for another season.
@esthervdheuvel1
158 words
ice element
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Oh, we know better than to go rousing a FlashDog from his rest. 😉 Or do we….
@deborah_the_foy
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Lovely to see you, Esther, so pleased you could join in. Loved the weaving of all the very familar names, some I have even met in real life.
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FlashDogs are the roots of vss365 aren’t they? I wasn’t around at the time 😁
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The crew! The poor crew! *gasps, dripping, shivering.* The howls of the Flashdogs are reverberating in my ears; I must follow them! 🙂 (This was brilliant and made me laugh out loud. Great stuff!)
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Thank you. It’s a pleasure to meet you all. I know a couple of the regular vss365’ers but not the FlasDogs.
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Hi Esther – what a cool way to herald the next season of the Flashdogs 🙂
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A summoning to arms! We’re still around and still loving the stories!
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a heck of a return acknowledgement…
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This is excellent! A story and a welcome back gathering.
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Ha ha ha, brilliant! So clever and what a great homage to the reawakening of Flash!Friday!
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Thank you. I messed up my WordPress link though. I like and reply with my pen name. Esther van den Heuvel is S.T. Hills 🙃
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I loved this. Perfect way to bring on the new season.
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Aww, what a nice tribute. Back and bigger than before!
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Ha! Honoured to be included – Go Team Pessimism! Love that for all the ominous build up, that “Wow!” tells us he’s still a big, daft, excitable pup 🙂
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The Return
He recoiled from his reflection in the mirrored glass of the towers.
The city ahead was a behemoth, white, punctuated with grey, like an iceberg. The window-slit eyes questioning him.
Why had he returned?
The dried crimson stains on his threadbare overcoat were reminders of his injuries.
The faint smell of ozone in his nostrils—a storm was coming. He clung to his coat in the bitter-tart crosswind.
Like an iceberg, his visible scars were just the edges.
Hidden were jagged memories; of what his father did to him.
And, now, he returns home.
Home?
To bury his father.
And the road ahead feels like the ocean; immense, callous, and dark.
But above… the sky.
Cerulean blue. The colour of new beginnings.
The sky is vast and infinite. It dwarfs the iceberg city. Crushes the black ocean.
Above, a solitary bird, as free as hope itself. It is stretched like a dragon, wings unfurled, it flies.
It glides.
@making_fiction #flashdogs #vss365
158 words
Fire element
It’s amazing to be back. I’ve missed you.
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How I missed your flash! The striking imagery, captivating pacing, the hollow ache that opens up in my chest as story unfolds—all of it! Good to have you here, friend.
@deborah_the_foy
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Thanks Deb, you are so kind and generous, as always. I’ve greatly missed being here (can you tell?).
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Every time, you manage to open up a sweeping saga in a few well-chosen words. This is just gorgeous, and this line got me: “The sky is vast and infinite. It dwarfs the iceberg city. Crushes the black ocean.” Oh, I love it!
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You always were one for crafting perfect desolation. Still on form!
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beautiful and such a large impressive landscape…
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This is basically a masterclass. Excuse me while I take notes.
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“bitter tart crosswind”
“Cerulean blue. The colour of new beginnings.”
He’s back and he’s just as good as he always was. Hey, shouldn’t writing two novels make him better? 😉 Like a good whiskey, years of refinement come and hit you at the back of the throat a little while later, but it’s always warming, welcome and powerful.
Oh, look – there’s that shadow again…
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This is so rich. Beautiful and evocative imagery…like an iceberg where more is just underneath.
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Oh, how affecting this is. The line “Like an iceberg, his visible scars were just the edges” gives me chills. And great twist on the visual prompt to go from wilderness to city.
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“Like an iceberg, his visible scars were just the edges” is just so damn good.
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Ah the images! Simple gorgeous.
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Vast and intimate, both at the same time. Great work.
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Love how you paint such a vast bleak landscape and then deftly drop a touch of color, taking the reader down into the grey and then, at the end, saving them with a distant hint of vibrance.
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So good! And like his scars, this feels like there’s a lost more just below the surface. That question, home?, suggests that it hasn’t been for a long time. I think he’ll be okay though – I think he’ll soar.
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The air was bitterly still and cold.
We were seated on the boat silently
The motor the only sound as it propelled us without hold
Gazing at the glacier growing closer imminently.
Upon sighting a cave
Some of the crew silently stood
We gazed at the glacier stave
Each of us strove to believe we understood.
We captured memories in our minds
Recalling every paper we’d studied
Staring at the cave we continued to find
Recalling papers we’d muddied.
The glacier a bigger magnitude here
Nothing we could recall though about caves
Why were they formed here?
Intently focused we missed the silent waves.
Not one penguin did we see
The waiting ship saw the return
Of the empty dinghy.
Our story wasn’t told in turn.
I, the last fragment of our crew
Whispering our tale to those who see the caves.
My only company in lieu_
The thing in the water making silent waves.
160 words (inclusive)
Twitter: @lindorfan
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Ooo! I love the seed of doubt that last line plants. Is the speaker warning us away from disaster or keeping our attention until whatever’s in the wave can strike!
@deborahthefoy
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Thanks
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Hi Charley, the thing I love about this is the use of space. It’s something I could really learn from, it’s almost cinematic and I can feel the landscape approaching and filling the space, and the feelings that would create. The last line is great, I love a story that leaves you pondering.
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Thankyou
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This pulls the reader in and in until they are focussing with the narrator on something before them whilst losing their awareness of everything else. You’re almost like a camera here, zooming in and then panning out to add that little bit extra. Nice technique.
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Thankyou
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That last line encapsulates the whole thing and punches you. That was amazing; I love the dip and sway of the rhythm, almost like being in the boat itself. Excellent!
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Thankyou
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A mystery…did the cold confuse them, lead them to their doom as they tried to figure out what was going on? It’s sadly ironic that all their focus meant they missed the most important thing, left to haunt the iceberg….ohhh…to lure others in or warn them away? Nice!
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Thanks
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Wow! How effectively you pack a descriptive tale within rhyming poetry! Well done.
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Thanks 😊
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Mysterious, intriguing and beautiful writing.
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Thanks
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Great touch telling this in rhyme!
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Thanks.
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I’m not one usually given over to nostalgic thoughts, but damn, it’s good to see everyone’s words again. So much has happened. No. There are far more important things to do right now. Here’s my entry. Hugs for you all, Avalina. x
————–
SOMETHING IN THE WATER
“Come in, Ben, are you ready, over?” A mushy crackle. “I’m ready, over.”
All seven participants removed their mugs, their fingers numbed, breath icy. The explosion was at first understated; as if swamped by expectation until suddenly a blast hit their eyes, ear-drums and chests. Some fell into the water and some held fast to the mugs, oddly for balance. The rain of Smirnoff Ice made everyone hold their mug aloft – wild, crazy grins as the slush puppy like sludge filled their cups and unfortunately, also the boat. No-one answered the cries of their fallen comrades, as they too would soon join them but not without first reliving an age long lost; of throaty bars, thudding music, hot flesh; the beautiful stench of life; the aching reminiscence. They were told not to fall as a fate far worse than death lurked in the deep; but after the final taste of nectar, many gave themselves willingly.
157 words
ice element
@KreskaWorld
#flashdog
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Your word choice is so on point! 😱
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Thank-you!
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So good to have you back, Avalina! I love that this flash piece takes the siren trope and gives it a Smirnoff twist—I’ll have what they’re having?
@deborah_the_foy
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Who’d not want an iced Smirnoff ice, eh? Good to see you too. x
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Hi Avalina, it’s great to see you again. Two things… I really got a powerful sense of sound – like Dolby cinema, crystal clear, really adding to the story. Also, Smirnoff Ice 🙂 I haven’t had that since the 90s, oh the memories – I was fond of the odd one.
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Two things? Well, I can relate to that, I am a Gemini after all… Glad it ‘conjured’ something in you… 🙂
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What a way to go – whilst living a dream. A bit of flash reality tv, capturing that vibe perfectly.
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Thanks, Steph. I really like the ‘perfectly’ bit. 😉
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Avalina, how I have missed you all, too! This is so haunting. This line made me tear up a little: “…but not without first reliving an age long lost; of throaty bars, thudding music, hot flesh; the beautiful stench of life; the aching reminiscence.” It makes me wish I could rewind time; you captured some kind of feeling that, I think, is buried deep in all of us: a wish for joy, beauty, normalcy, hope…
*runs off to grab a tissue… * 😉
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I thought I’d been too busy to miss anyone, but being back, I really appreciate everyone’s talent and generosity; this, the most humble of my beginnings, my childhood in words and it’s very touching indeed for people to comment. It’s funny you should say that about the deep buried feeling, because I’ve captured something there that I’ve never experienced but at least recognise in among most people in the world. Here’s a tissue, I only used it once. 😉
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I love the juxtaposition of the numbing cold with the ‘hot flesh’ and all its trappings, and, of course, the grisly outcome in what is, ostensibly, a beautiful scene.
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Thanks!
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A fabulously off-kilter take on the prompt! I lost so many nights to Smirnoff Ice back in the day 😉
Love the slices of memory – throaty bars, thudding music, hot flesh – that sketch in a club night so economically.
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Yeah, off-kilter, that’s me! 🙂 Thanks, Karl, I’ve never tried Smirnoff Ice, is it – er – icy? 😉
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It’s vicious stuff – it goes down like lemonade then suddenly hits your head and legs like a vodka-soaked sledgehammer. …aaand now I want to get some for old times’ sake…
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So my explosion idea was write, I mean right!. God I’m good…
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I love the rich, visceral language. Toasting it all goodbye. Potent ending…sombre and sanguine.
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Very kind, thanks. 🙂
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Oh, how I love this: “throaty bars, thudding music, hot flesh; the beautiful stench of life.” What wonderful, powerful imagery. Nicely done!
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Many thanks, Margaret, that’s praise indeed. 🙂
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Brilliantly worded. Such a joy to read such beautiful prose. That last line, so so good.
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Firdaus, thanks ever so much. Good to see you. I’ll go hunting for your entry now. x
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The description of the explosion – at first muffled, then catching them unawares, even though they know it’s coming – is just perfect. And who knew how much we’d miss packed, sweaty bars??
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Thanks a bunch, praise indeed from such a Flash Queen (you know what I mean by that, right?) 😉 Glad you enjoyed it. xx I’ve never won a Flash! Friday EVER, would be so cool to win one after all this time.
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What everyone else said? That.
(Could be in the running for a FF win!)
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haha! Hello Geoff. your wry wit always hits the mark. 🙂
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Castaways
Two hours had passed since the eight of us had abandoned ship. It shouldn’t have happened, but it had: an iceberg had pierced our hull. We barely had time to board a zodiac and sail away.
There was no mention of those we had left behind. Or the limited amount of emergency rations and fuel our boat carried. Or the fact that, so close to the Pole, our compass was useless. Or the absence of any officer among us. Or that we had no radio or satellite phone.
But for the last half hour, after crossing that weird mist curtain, our silence was different.
The cold, the ever present ice, clutched more than our bodies. It grabbed our hearts and souls, and it filled them with fear.
For the frozen coast in front of us shouldn’t have been there. And neither should the shapes we saw moving within the frigid waters.
@VicenteLRuiz
151 words
Somethingin the water
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I love ‘mist curtain’ and ‘ever present ice’. I would have been inclined to make the second paragraph a long list, utilise the semicolons instead of the start and stop that comes with the ‘. Or.’ on repeat. I think your last paragraph is brilliant, I like the mystery there.
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The tension here–palpable!! I love the slow, all-consuming dread you’ve created from the list of What Went Wrongs to the horroresque monsters-at-the-edge-of-your-vision finale.
@deborah_the_foy
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Good to see you, Vicente. There is something truly frightening about the cold dark waters and unseen shapes. Unsettling, as it was meant to be.
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Oh, I love it when people bring in things that should not be, that place ‘just beyond’, the shapes. Chilling.
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“For the frozen coast in front of us shouldn’t have been there. And neither should the shapes we saw moving within the frigid waters.”
*Huddles under the blankets, peeps out.” Chilling (heh, sorry, dad joke), and gripping. I love the gray, cold feel of this. I could be right there; you’ve wrapped us up in this scene.
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This one has so much depth in such a short piece. I feel like I can sense the backstory and the dread at the same time! Great job.
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Your first line quickly establishes the scene. Perfect.
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Oh fantastic imagery! I loved how you built the scene up, completely negating their initial concerns with that chilling end.
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Oh, that ending. I definitely want to know what happens next. Great imagery!
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Beautifully done! Yes, beyond the mist curtain, the terror is real.
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“For the frozen coast in front of us shouldn’t have been there.” What a haunting line! Now I wish there was even more to read next.
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I absolutely loved it. That last paragraph leaves me hanging and wondering. Perfect flash.
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Like the opening to a gruelling horror – I think that crew of eight will be whittled down very quickly!
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You pack so much tension into so few words, building the outline of the story but letting the reader fill in the detail.
Wonderful work, Vicente.
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Thanks all who have commented! I’ve been on the road this weekend and I don’t think I’ll have time to reply individually! I’ll try to read the other entries, though.
Thanks again!
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Like all those who came before, he sailed the placid river of my soul. All was still. He thought himself safe atop the icy depths, where my sight followed his every move, as he stared into the frozen cavern. Unknown to him, the crystallised palace had lured him into its glittering maw.
He sought a fire long extinguished. Even within the core, the final flickering flames had given way to the biting frost. The blizzard of torment whipped through the darkness, lashing at the flesh, clawing at the bones, seeking out the soul which could melt away the pain. He lurched away from the frigid tendrils before they could burn scars into his being.
What had once been a beautiful sight, now gave way to the dark embrace of an igloo. Should he stay, he would surely suffocate, as the passage to freedom closed against the outside world – his memory a shard on the palace walls.
Name: Erin Robinson (@flossybunny)
Ice
Word count: 156
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Your description of the storm–“lashing at the flesh, clawing at the bone”–is chillingly visceral!
And that final line, the ice walls closing in, makes me squirm…
@deborah_the_foy
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Thank you 💜
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Hey Erin, so pleased you could join in. Welcome. I hope you stay around for the next few weeks. This is incredibly good, “crystallised palace had lured him into its glittering maw” building an image in very few words. It was also scary, like Stephen King can be at his best – not gory, just pulling at the imagination of the reader enough to make them pleased that they were safely detached from the scene unfolding. Good work.
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I plan on sticking around, I need some new writing challenges. Thank you for the feedback 💜
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Love your imagery in this piece, a real prose poem. Particularly liked that last phrase ‘… his memory a shard on the palace walls’
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Thank you 💜
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Wow, so good; that last line is such a vivid word picture. I love it!
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Thank you so much 💜
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Wonderful, vivid imagery. This line “He sought a fire long extinguished” has so many undertones and potential meanings. I love it.
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Thank you so much 💜
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Wow! Such fantastic descriptions, beautiful writing.
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Thank you 💜
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Beautifully written and a wonderful metaphor for heading blindly, hopefully into a toxic relationship.
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Thank you, I had that in mind!
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Potent, heavy read. Great imagery. Relentless. Ice is eternal.
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Wavebound
It’s not true that a binding spell is unnatural, of course nothing can be separate from nature. Not even me. Thousands of years I’ve slept, shivering and impaled by icicles, they’ve almost become a part of me. If the ancestors had known, they might have tried the banishing spell, or worse, but their education was less than mine. Water has memory of course, but it also creates memories. I’ve been there in the dreams and terrors of those beings made of water. Every drop they drink is part of my message, although sometimes I’m too cold to think. Each drip, each drop, I’m getting warmer, playing the long game.
They come in their boats measuring the blinding whiteness that encased me. Sometimes I can feel their desires and I ache to fulfil them, a little exchange of soul here and there. It won’t be long I whisper through the waves.
@sam_c4rr
Ice element
151 words
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I love the images of a massive magic-bound beast this story conjures! And the anticipation for what’s to come when it’s free…
@deborah_the_foy
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Something waiting in the deeps, an ominous revelation brought about by climate change. Great sense of tension.
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Just my kind of story. It had hues of Neil Gaiman, which I love. The first person viewpoint works incredibly well, and absolutely the right choice.
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Thanks so much 🙂
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Ooh, I love the “whisper through the waves,” playing on water’s memory. So haunting and frigid! Well done!
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…playing the long game… *shiver* Enjoyed that.
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“Water has memory of course, but it also creates memories.” I LOVE THIS LINE! I also like the mystery hiding behind your words here. I want to know so much more.
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I love the part about the water. A chilling piece!
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Deciphering humanity the desire to free their nemesis – such a great idea, and very well executed too.
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Deciphering = dripfeeding. Bloomin’ autocorrect…
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I like the use of the memory of water here. Adds to the subtle invasion and changing…through something we cannot live without. The last line is great! Adds a real chill.
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Come Back
Her toes were frozen inside her soaked boots. The numbness had passed, now there was nothing. The icy walls shielded her from the cold winds, but it wasn’t enough. She looked out across the sea through her glacial cave. The shivering had stopped, shards of ice sticking to her jacket and hair like crystals. She could barely move her fingers.
Everyone was gone. She didn’t know how many escaped the ship.
It didn’t matter; the sea and ice would claim another soul.
Her hot tears turned to ice, and she lay her head on the cold ground.
“Close your eyes and sleep.” She could hear her mother’s voice.
“I’m sorry, Mom.”
“Hello! Is anyone alive out there?” A voice cried.
A haze of red drifted across the water. “Hello?” The voice cried again.
“Hello,” she whispered. They drifted across the way, their calls fading.
“Come back,” she squeaked, but they didn’t turn around.
“Sleep.”
“Please-“
157 words
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The sense of desperation as they leave! Well done.
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So close and yet so far. The final ‘Please’, so emotive.
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I enjoyed this, especially the sight and sensation of hot tears turning icy. Nicely done.
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Well-done, Mary.
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I love that you captured that really odd place right between sleep and wake. Nice! 🙂
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Oh, how haunting the mother’s voice is. I think that addition gives your story so much punch.
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Ah the desperation in this piece is palpable. Nicely done!
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Woops! Forgot to note: I used ice!
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I like the counterpoint between the mumbled cries for help and the mother’s command to sleep. Desperately sad.
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Oh gosh….so close to being rescued. I’m wondering if Mom has exacted some revenge here by telling her to sleep or if Mom is being kind, gentle…offering mercy. Nice read.
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HUNTERS
A discordant ache squeezed through the bulk as they got close; the men gripped their heads in agony. The sound yawned again, horribly elongated this time, and silver shards tumbled out of the chasm.
A moment of pure silence gave relief, but then, from the cavity, came the echo of a haunting strain which wrapped them like silk into its frozen web.
The vessel rocked as Carl sprang to his feet. ‘Get to the edge. We can climb up.’
Mesmerised, one by one, they were swallowed by the gaping mouth, unaware of the sharp air slicing their faces. The peril.
Around their boat, pale faces appeared, white-lashed, diamond-haired, winged fins veined with silver. As one, they pulled it down, breaking the skin of the water for just a moment. A soft wave slid into the hole.
Meanwhile, the ecstatic crew trudged deeper towards the beautiful song, oblivious of the anoraks frozen into the ice walls, like blood spots.
@helen_laycock
158 words
Ice element
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Deliciously creepy! “breaking the skin of the water” is a particularly gorgeous image.
@deborah_the_foy
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Oh, falling for the Siren’s call. That last line gives the perfect chills.
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Hi Helen, good to see you. Images are stunning, I love the use of silver against the landscape and I can really see the glitter with movement and the way it flashes in the vision. Scary, but subtle with it.
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Nice and creepy. Particularly like the final paragraph, great imagery!
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Ooh. Love the siren twist. Love it. And, wow, that last phrase, “like blood spots,” gave me chills. Well done.
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Whoa! This is scary. Love your description of the sound and the creatures in the water. Beautiful!
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I love those anoraks, frozen in the walls. Excellent use of a mundane object to very creep effect!
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The description of the creatures is wonderful, the mention of diamonds and silver making them beautifully alluring even as their actions are horribly, calculatedly evil.
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Wow, this whole paragraph: “Around their boat, pale faces appeared, white-lashed, diamond-haired, winged fins veined with silver. As one, they pulled it down, breaking the skin of the water for just a moment. A soft wave slid into the hole.” I can feel the silken softness of that wave. Beautiful!
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I really like this! This is elegant with wonderful imagery.
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No lapping of water, no cracking of ice, the silence is ominous. We had abandoned our world to undertake this odyssey, to search for something ancient and mystical. Only now, mesmerized by glinting majesty, do we feel our mortality.
Creeping through the centuries, the glacier gathered memories of beast and man – the chatter of whales, the roar of polar bears, the cries of dying men. Did it gaze in wonder at ships anchored by frozen seas, at dirigibles buzzing in the sky, at the myriad of Captain Ahabs compelled by burning obsession?
Humanity evolved and the age of the machine was upon us. We ransack nature, pollute the elements, poison life itself. In the absence of supplication, restitution is required. O deep darksome depths, unfurl and swirl, release leviathan judgement! Amid rusty wrecks, lost treasure, and dissolved bones, something uncoils. The Hyperborean existed before mankind, it will exist after mankind, but it must feed.
@Giacomin_Mark13
Word count: 155
Ice element
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The “gathered memories of beast and man,” how different they are, those memories, and what must nature think?
@deborah_the_foy
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I suspect nature is tutting us.
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There is a wonderful rhythm to your words in this piece, at times coming across like a pulse, a drumbeat. Lyrical and poetical.
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Thanks for commenting. I guess we all march to a drumbeat of some kind.
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Hi Mark, good to see you. Wow, this was punchy, poetic, beautiful, relevant, and massive in scale – I tip my hat to you, sir.
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Thanks, *other* Mark. It was somewhat surreal to learn, while doing a quick bit of research for the piece, that Roald Amundsen got to the North Pole in a dirigible. Sort of blew my mind.
Oh, & what hat are you tipping? Fedora. trilby, bowler?
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I really enjoyed the linking of history and future, the reminder we humans are but a blip. That entire second paragraph just sings to me.
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Thanks for the comment. I’m glad the words sung because it’s definitely a better option than me singing!
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I love your second paragraph. Absolutely beautiful. And the ending superb.
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Thank you for taking the time to read it!
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Fabulous language, genuinely reads like one of the Weird Tales authors. I get the feeling that as much as the cultists might want to wake him, they’ll come to regret it pretty quickly!
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Ha ha, thanks, not so much a sting in the tail as a crunch in the mouth!
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This makes me want to unfurl my dragonly wings and rise from the waters in search of snacks. 🙂 I love the striking imagery and language of this!
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Note to self: if ambushed by a snack dragon, have a ready supply of Kitkats!
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Great read! I wonder who is offering up this prayer for restitution…the ending of something so transient as a man. I like the feel of age this piece gives. Makes me think of man as newcomer, squatter.
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Thanks! We are newcomers despite our presumed brilliance.
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Pearl
What melts above, melts below—and much is unknown about the latter. What we don’t know, we make stories for, and those that come true, we call science. Mermaids become manatees; unicorns become narwhals—but science hasn’t caught all of the monsters.
They tell stories about dragons in the East, where they are creatures of the water, and their souls take the form of pearls. In one long-forgotten story, a princess challenged her suitors to collect one such pearl for a necklace. Only a nameless stranger succeeded, and she accepted his proposal in the face of much protest, whereupon he revealed himself to be a dragon, and the pearl his soul.
He took her to the land of dragons, deep under the polar glaciers. All of the dragons attended the wedding—they feasted and feted and floated in dance, and then they slept. They have been sleeping ever since. When their icy dreamland melts, they’ll wake up.
@IpsaHerself
157 words
Ice Element (in the water)
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Oh I ADORE the fable-feel of this! Haunting…
@deborah_the_foy
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Thank you so much!!!
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A beautiful fairy tale. The idea ‘their souls take the form of pearls’ is lovely.
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I am a sucker for folklore, myth, fairy tales and forms of storytelling that are sadly underrated, this gives me strong vibes in this field. Thanks for posting.
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Love the way the fable-like tale unfolds!
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Wow, that opening phrase is brilliant! Made me stop and think. I like how you build the rest of the story, and the contrast between science and the mystical. Great!
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A lovely idea with just a hint of menace. I wonder how science will classify the dragons when they finally rise?
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Oh wow this is lovely. When they wake up, what then…
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I’m a sucker for alliteration: “they feasted and feted and floated in dance, and then they slept,” and the princess/fairy/dragon feel of this is exactly what I love. Sooo good!
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What a beautiful fable! I love how the narrative gyres from general to a very specific image, each paragraph gently shifting into glory.
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Gastabud
Through crystalline shards, strange light pulsates. Each in the boat would swear it in time with their heartbeat – and who’s to say their hearts don’t beat as one?
They watch, record, hold phones to awed faces. They congratulate one another for being here, for being first – and who’s to say they don’t deserve it?
The closer they get, the faster the pulsating – the faster hearts beat.
“It’s better than drugs!’” one exclaims, makeup perfect beneath her heavy hood.
“It’s all about the money, honey,” another grins, perfectly toothed.
Sven pulls on thick diving gear and abandons them to their reverie.
“It’s so…sculptural.” He’s not heard that one before. He’ll remember that one for the tavern, he thinks, backflipping into icy waters.
In the crystal caverns, lights intensify. Beneath the waters, a giant shape looms.
The immense darkness of the creature’s maw is the antithesis to its glowing tail, now pulled free of the ice.
It feasts.
David Shakes
@TheShakes72
157 words
Ice, ice baby
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Hey Shakes!!
Love this – and so fine to see you writing here 🙂
Particularly love this line ‘Each in the boat would swear it in time with their heartbeat – and who’s to say their hearts don’t beat as one?’ – gorgeous!
Frances
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A beast’s gotta eat. 😉
After all I’ve seen this year, I now firmly believe the stories and movies that have us go grinning and ‘Gramming to our deaths are the truest.
@deborah_the_foy
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What lies beneath, eh? You just know this is not going to end well. A great set-up with a novel misdirection caused by the creature’s own body. Excellent as always.
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Thank you, I can’t claim it’s my idea, in the East dragons are often depicted clutching flaming pearls that symbolize vitality and essence.
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Welcome back, brother. These short forms are great for just putting it out there, nothing wasted, no padding, just the essence of great storytelling. I loved this bit, “…and who’s to say their hearts don’t beat as one?” This is another entire story waiting to be told.
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I had to Google the title – and how appropriately named. The heartbeat element is wonderful – exciting and creepy simultaneously. Well done!
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So cynical! Yes, they’re about to get chomped by the angler fish from hell, but at least their make-up’s on point 😆 Great to read you again Shakes!
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Beautiful writing. Such a gripping piece.
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I think “sculptural” might be my new favorite term. I’m going to use it from here one out. “Kids, eat your carrots; they’re very sculptural. What do you mean, you don’t like vegetables? They’re sculptural for your health.” Etc.
All aside: you managed the dialogue here seamlessly. I love how smoothly this goes down. 🙂
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The diver in cahoots with (or at least away of) the monster. Love the image of an angler fish using light lures to draw in prey–and, in your glorious economy of characterization, you deftly have us not feel particularly sorry for that prey.
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‘Once, We Were Water’ (Title)
First, the ice had been dust. Suspended in nothing, swirling through cosmos, coalescing in shudders of impact and traction.
Next, the ice was water, mother of life, spluttering steam amidst the primordial maelstrom. Thought was born of its depths millennia before it entered our minds.
And this essence of existence never left. Titans stand in stasis, slumped over our earth like woeful apostles, like icons from the epics, prostrate to the infinities they fared from.
We decided to kill them. Not even the massive weight of our interstellar ancestry stands in the way of human ‘progress’.
It seems folly now, that we had not the sense to know we met our maker. We thought ourselves special, but infact we were tainted. A corruption of carbon and metals and gas, a mutation of the purity of that perfect place between H, 2 and O.
With each drop back into the ocean, ancient fury filled Gaia. Water we were, once more.
@ProsSpeaks
‘Ice’, incase it wasn’t obvious 😉
159 words.
I hope any who read this enjoy it, and understand its message.
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And so we return to dust – or water. We are the corruption (my take on it). A beautiful and yet angry poem, the earth’s protest.
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Lovely title and story, Matt.
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Hi Matt, some beautiful words in here; coalescing, maelstrom, stasis. And I thought this phrase was wonderful, “slumped over our earth like woeful apostles”.
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“Titans stand in stasis, slumped over our earth like woeful apostles, like icons from the epics” – fantastic! A moving tale with wonderful imagery. Nicely done.
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From the dawn of time to the end of the human race in 159 perfectly chosen words – well done!
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Yes this is how it’s going to end for us probably. Beautifully written and a poignant message.
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The first and the last line are a gorgeous play on “Dust thou art, and to dust thou shalt return.” Ingenious and beautiful. 🙂
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Love this take, especially the multiple iterations of “something in the water”. This line is magic: “the purity of that perfect place between H, 2, and O”. Such compelling images.
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Thankyou, for all the kind words!
I’m having an issue creating a wordpress account, and my mobile browser does NOT like the reply section, so apologies for not being more engaged.
I’ll make sure it’s sorted in time for the coming week so I can like things, and more conveniently tell you all how wonderful you are 💙
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Karrok surfaced slowly, this child of ice and water, her strange silvery eyes glowing as she watched the humans search for a place to land their craft. She could feel their fear vibrating through the air; cystallising into icy shards of despair as they pitted sinew against the might of the glacial current, that licked and sliced relentlessly at their resolve. Eating. Gnawing.
She felt the heavens undulate around her. Ragnor was on the move. What hope for these weakened shreds of mortality, if he found them, and gave them a taste of his biting breath.
What did she care? These destroyers of the skies—whose flying crafts set the clouds to flame, threatening her very existence as she helplessly watched her world crumbling. Dying.
A haunting melody pierced her thoughts. Remember who you are—child of ice and water. Of truth. Of morality. A flash of quicksilver; she dived into the deep. Rising gracefully underneath the craft—she pulled.
@BrittleWindowz [160 words] [Ice : In the water]
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Revenge of the natural (or supernatural world) against man is a common theme amongst the pieces this week. Nicely done.
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Thank you 😊
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LOVE this imagery here: “as they pitted sinew against the might of the glacial current, that licked and sliced relentlessly at their resolve. Eating. Gnawing.” And the hints at the deeper world. Nice depth.
@deborah_the_foy
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Thanks so much! 🤗
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“These destroyers of the skies—whose flying crafts set the clouds to flame, threatening her very existence as she helplessly watched her world crumbling. Dying.” I just love this (even as it makes me teary). So vivid, so painful. Nicely done.
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Thank you Margaret. 😊 🙏
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I like how you use the phrase “child of ice and water” before and after Karrok’s consideration of those little scraps of humanity, as if for all the damage we’re capable of (and doing), we’re still just a blip on the long curve of time, easily dismissed in the face of something truly ancient.
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Thanks Karl 👍🧡
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So many beautiful sentences. What great imagery. I enjoyed reading it.
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Oh wow! Thanks so much. 👍🧡
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Vivid! “These destroyers of the skies—whose flying crafts set the clouds to flame, threatening her very existence as she helplessly watched her world crumbling.” I loved this line.
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Thanks so much Tamara! 😊🧡
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The Session
Spencer’s calm honey voice that grates like sandpaper breaks the stillness.
“Kate, imagine you’re in the ocean on a boat what do you see?”
I want to lie, but at this point I’m doubting lying is much of an option.
“A glacier, there’s other people here, dressed in red.”
“Ah yes”, I crack my eyes open, Kevin is chewing his pencil thoughtfully, acting like any of this really matters.
“Good, anything else?”
I look down,beneath my feet rocking back and forth are a number of dirty metal cylinders, each emblazoned with the same letters.
Him.
“No, nothing.”
“Okay Kate, now I need you to take a deep breath, feel the air fill your lungs.”
Ice cold touches my lips, my hands work fast, releasing each and every valve.
The others watch nodding in agreement.
“And now breathe out Kate and let go of everything.”
I flick my father’s Zippo into life and the world blossoms into orange.
Word Count 159
@imageronin/@edisonarcane
#flashdogs
to quote the Shakes “ice, ice baby.”
#missedyouguys
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that moment you realise you changed Kevin to Spencer but missed the second reference … sigh #fail
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Possibly not the result therapy intended! Very dark. Loved it.
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Yes! Fab last line 🙏🏽
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On Twitter I just said it felt like a much needed family reunion, with new wonderful friends joining the party. Welcome back! Love the use of dialogue and a sense of more than one character from a <160 word story is fairly impressive.
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“I flick my father’s Zippo into life and the world blossoms into orange.” – Ooh. Great line. The vibe here is so eerie!
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This could be taken in so many ways; a session with a therapist and an expedition into the cave – wait, isn’t that the same thing? Enjoyed this.
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A dark take on the prompt, and an explosive last line. I love that the therapist’s “calm honey voice” is actually such an abrasive intrusion on the MC’s longed-for silence.
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This is dark. I got a little confused with the names so I read it several times then noticed what you said about the typo. Makes sense now. Great take on the prompt. Absolutely loved it!
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I love the setting here, and that last phrase: “the world blossoms into orange.” Beautiful.
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Breaching the Womb of the Ice Maiden
We should’ve aborted when we arrived, the entrance to the glacier cave was melted and torn, but Zak and Peter insisted—the whole ice-shelf would be gone by next year, they said, and they wanted selfies in the Ice Womb itself.
From the boat we saw them disappear into the cavern, then our screen we saw Zak and Peter ascending into white-blue, into the blue-blue where they posed lewdly with the ice clitoris, then into deep blue, static, then the feed cut.
We waited forty minutes, should we follow? Too risky. The ice clanged and sung around us as we retold prophecies we’d heard about the Womb of the Ice Maiden.
The sun set, we waited silent and cold on the dark sea. The ice sung at a higher pitch.
At dawn, a roaring furious gush of ice-water spewed Peter into the sea. We waited as long as we could, really we did, but only Peter’s helmet ever surfaced.
(159 words)
Ice element
@feclarkart on twitter (I don’t have access to the internet at home due to storms and no mobile reception, we are locked down again so can’t go out much – please bear with me if I am slow to answer – best to all. xx)
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Oh, I’ve missed your poetry and imagery – ‘ice womb’. Perfect.
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Thanks Steph – not much poetry at the moment, feels like crisis mode all the time now. Lovely to see you here. xx
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Sorry to hear that, but lovely to see you here too, maybe a little respite for you?
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..nah, broadband and all that down at home and local lockdown in place again – so really hard to do anything….but really missed this….xx
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Whenever I see caves I always think of the open vagina – it just lends itself, doesn’t it? But you did the image justice, almost the rape of the Ice Maiden, by climate and man – but both paid the price. Enjoyed that.
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I’m thinking Georgia O’Keefe, but much more menacing. What a unique, brilliant take on the prompt. “The ice sung at a higher pitch” is quite mysterious, and I like it. Well done.
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O’Keeffe is one of my hero artists Margaret! Thank you 🙂
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Gorgeously elemental. Poor Peter, devoured. 😉
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Got to treat that lady with more respect lads, or wind up like Peter and Zak! Painterly description with the myriad blues, naturally – I can almost imagine how you would paint this Frances!
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What fabulous imagery. This is beautiful writing!
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White-blue, and then blue-blue. So vivid; I can see the deep, deep ice. Well done!
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She dreams of fire and ice, there is no other way of cracking the stone,
How else can a soul be freed from the home the fates have made for it.
The contradiction is the pain of a triangle, the midpoint,
A field in which her heart is slain.
She likens it to dawn, she likens it to the ways of new Gods,
Immature things, that man will remember in poems,
That man will remember on the iced walls of caves
And women will not remember at all.
Her memories are of stone, not of pebbles which came after,
Vector clones, intrusive flecks of hardness,
Pretending heroism and roundness, in their search to replicate love.
They are weak things, she can break them open with a dream
But they have no heart, their emotions are sand,
That wicked friend of the hour glass, that conspiracist
Holding water in its mouth, a liquid fallacy.
@darklordmatabu
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I’m a fan of poetry and the imagery it creates and you’ve written a great piece here. ‘Her memories are of stone, not of pebbles which came after’ – wonderful,.
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“…Immature things, that man will remember in poems,
That man will remember on the iced walls of caves
And women will not remember at all.”
Great lines.
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Hi Matt, thanks for posting. I like the flow and the rhythm, and like Avalina said, the lines near the middle are excellent.
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All of this fascinates me. Such evocative language.
“Immature things, that man will remember in poems,
That man will remember on the iced walls of caves
And women will not remember at all.”
I want to know so much more after reading that.
Wonderful.
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Some intriguing ideas here, beautifully expressed.
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So many fabulous lines. Very poetic.
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I mean, really, I tried to come up with a line or two more excellent than the rest, but they are each so exquisite! So well done!
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Unlikely
“You worry too much,” said Mark.
He knew what she was thinking, eyeing the glacier, waiting for a chunk to drop and crush them. Amanda turned her gaze away, fixed them instead on Ville, their guide. Standing up at the rudder, describing the wonders of their surroundings, she pictured him tumbling into the water, overturning the boat – drowning them all. Then Joanna opposite began to ask questions. She looked feverish, had a cough. Even here, they could still catch Covid.
So many ways to die. All logical, all plausible.
“All unlikely,” said Mark. “We’re too far from the glacier, the boat’s too well-balanced and we’ve all been vaccinated. Next thing you’ll say is we could get eaten by a sea monster.”
Amanda laughed and relaxed. She was being ridiculous. There was as much chance of that happening as Jormungand appearing.
Beneath them, a serpent looked up and let go of its tail, opened its mouth …
Stephanie Ellis
@el_Stevie
(156 words)
ice
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Hi Steph,
Oh, that last line!!
I love that you made this current (or perhaps past) with the reference to the virus.
Also – ‘Ville’ – I love that as the name for a guide 🙂
Frances
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Eeek!
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Haha! Something about eating their words? Like it.
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Oh, I missed the Norse mythology reference… Tut. Even better then! Excellent.
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Really good stuff, Steph. So far, this is the story that has entertained me the most. There was a real sense of a horror film, where the plucky (and often misguided) victims are so busy dismissing danger that they don’t see it right in front of them. Welcome back.
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Oh, what a twist there! Love it! “So many ways to die. All logical, all plausible.” That’s how I feel these days!
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Love it! Great characterisation in such a short piece and an excellent twist in the (serpent’s) tail.
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Lovely contrast between Amanda’s hyper-awareness of potential danger and Mark’s casual dismissal. Reminds me of the “just because you’re paranoid…” expression – maybe someone should have told Mark, but it’s far too late now…
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Great build up. The setting quietly menacing. Wonderful writing.
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Wow…
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I DO worry too much, how did you know? “So many ways to die. All logical, all plausible.” I just… feel this in my bones. 😉 So well done, so vivid. Love this!
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The Bliss of Solitude
Jeff doesn’t shovel the snow off his pathway. Or off anywhere else. In a hut in the Antarctic there seems little point. He keeps his small square bathroom window permanently open, though. If you lived on dried fish so would you. He has a skylight in his bedroom, up a small flight of ice stairs.
His front door is kept clear too, so that his pet penguin Petunia can slide gleefully down the path to her morning swim.
Oh, and for deliveries.
Jeff is a loner. He is not an idiot. He buys clothing and toiletries. He buys books and box-sets. The room on the bottom left is his wine cellar.
One of his Amazon purchases was a small drone. He launches this now, guiding it silently out over the peace-piercing, diesel-coughing dinghy. Beneath the drone’s Release and Drop device sways a large bag of guano and fish-guts.
Jeff does not like carol singers.
Tinman
154 words
Fire: in the air
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Haha, nice story. It made me smile.😀
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Ha! Such an original take on the photo image. Love it!
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Brilliant, and beautifully paced. Do you write comedy by any chance? if not, you should! 🙂
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Love it! ‘Release and Drop’ over the carol singers, never thought of that. This story made me chuckle.
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I loved this. It’s so fun.
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I love the unique rhythm to this. So matter-of-fact, and yet off the wall, too. I really enjoyed it.
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I like Jeff. 😉
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Ha! I wonder what delights Jeff has in store for Jehovah’s Witnesses!
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Tinman! Your tales always made me chuckle and this is no exception. Jeff’s no-nonsense attitude is perfectly matched by your deceptively simple-seeming prose.
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Jeff must be a writer… 🙂
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“His pen penguin Petunia…” Honestly, I can really relate to Jeff. 🙂 Really well done!
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And All The Sea Were Gin
“Magnificent, isn’t it?”
Every time he speaks, which is blessedly rarely, it’s to say something so anodyne he might have selected it randomly from a book of uncontroversial phrases. If there’s no such book, it’s because he’s never roused himself to write it.
This trip was supposed to heal, but all that’s changed is the air between us is even colder, and the constant background noise of our lives—the grinding, the cracking—has become briefly real.
He’s right, though. It is magnificent. There’s a void within the glacier that could be a dragon’s lair, but it’s empty. The beast has flown. I half hope to feel hot breath on my neck as a monster swoops in to hasten the collapse of a crumbling edifice.
A honeymooner scrambles for the perfect Instagrammable selfie, rocking the boat. I cling to the gunwale. She fumbles her phone, drops it, and wails as it sinks into darkness.
“Yes. Magnificent.”
Pony trekking tomorrow.
@marshawritesit
Element: ice
Word count: 157
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Oh, I really like this. The terrible, yet amusing conclusion to add insult to the unfolding scene, a perfect, so human ending! Bravo!
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Such a matter-of-fact, blunt statement at the end – this sort of thing always adds an extra punch to the story. You can almost here her sighing in despair at her partner. Neat contrast with the mention of honeymooners.
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I love this. The paragraph about the background noise of our lives – excellent. Great story.
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This is SO good. That last line is an absolute killer.
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Glorious! Love the reflections here: that of the word ‘magnificent’, the honeymooners and the old couple, the glacier and the crumbling edifice of the marriage. The final line that lines up another outing doomed to be just as devastatingly anodyne as the current one.
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The paragraph about the book of phrases is such a wonderfully vicious put-down, and I can almost feel the venom dripping from “Yes. Magnificent.” So scathing without a hint of being overwrought.
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The humanity here: soo identifiable and relevant. I love the last line: it sums up the feel of this perfectly. Very clean and well-written!
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Crackle
Under arctic skies and the crackling glaciers nearby, Henry suffocated with her disappointment 9,000 miles away.
His sleeping bag had become his body bag as the air pressed in on him.
It was Joe’s idea. Get away, far away, and do something adventurous. Stepping foot onto a remote continent should have been a victory, but his failure in her stepping out lingered.
That last look followed him here, like a tick, patient and quiet on his skin.
To starve the tick, it was fine with him to be subsumed into the frozen graveyard, discovered decades later as an archaeological oddity.
Or maybe never — that’s fine, too.
He wondered how many other wayward bones he rested on, other empty vessels that voyaged far beyond home to get away, and find a final resting place with comfortable ice sheets.
Even with one more breath, her image was there; those brown, penetrating eyes.
Another glacial crackle broke her hold on him.
@brett_milam
Word Count: 160 words.
Element: Fire.
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Emotionally powerful. That final sentence is sublime.
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Thank you Avalina!
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THAT LAST LINE. Love.
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Thank you Betsy!
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“That last look followed him here, like a tick, patient and quiet on his skin.” is a fantastic metaphor for those lingering regrets. The itch doesn’t need scratching yet, but you just know that it will!
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Thank you, Karl! I appreciate you reading!
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Ooh, the metaphor! “That last look followed him here, like a tick, patient and quiet on his skin.” I love it!
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Thank you, Tamara! 🙏
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(Untitled)
“They’re coming! Is everybody warmed up? Cecil?”
“Yeah, I’m awake. What’s the song?”
“Has anybody heard from Barbara?”
“Barbara! Wake up! First tourists of the day.”
“Seriously? It’s too early.”
BUUUUURRRRPPP
“Nice of you to join, Barbara. I hope you got that out of your system. We are the singing ice caves, not the… gross burping ice caves.”
“What’s the song?”
“Burping would bring in a lot of tourists I bet.”
“Anyway! Let’s start with Good Vibrations. Everybody okay with that?”
“You just like that one because it’s low. I have to belt the whole time.”
“It’s not my fault, Doug. You’re small. You make high notes. It’s physics.”
“Everybody hum a C, okay? Get warmed up.”
“Ha! Ice caves warming up. That’s funny.”
“They’re almost here!”
“Aw, bless em. Look how small they are in their little red jackets.”
“Look at it this way – we’re musicians, but at least we don’t have to go on tour.”
“And one, and…”
——-
@betsystreeter
160 words
Element: Ice, something in the air
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Love it! Especially: “It’s not my fault, Doug. You’re small. You make high notes. It’s physics.” 🙂
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That was a fun and rousing read.
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Our resident cartoonist brings the comedy! Love how you capture the various characters just through dialogue – could really feel the band-leader’s exasperation.
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I’m sure the Beach Boys would be honored to have their song used in an Antarctic serenade! 😀
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Laughing out loud. Such a fun story! “We are the singing ice caves, not the… gross burping ice caves.” Give me a C!
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Title: It is What It Is
The virus didn’t take us after all. The asteroid did.
The amateur astronomer who spotted it had searched the heavens for years and found his sign of God. He stayed silent and waited for the redemptive cleansing.
Nuclear winter froze half the planet, and some of us chose the ice.
The skies cleared, the planet re-warmed, and our ice fortresses floated on calm, bountiful waters. In the nooks and crannies of our frozen homes, we prospered, content.
Until the red-robed monks appeared. The land had survivors, too, and a new religion. The monks wanted to convert us, but the color of their robes bespoke what they really sought.
We’d kept a sample of the World-Killer virus; one of us volunteered to carry it. When the monks’ neared, he called to them, “Take me! I want to know the word of truth!”
They welcomed him into their boat and headed home.
Small sacrifices for a greater good and plenty of volunteers.
@unspywriter
Something in the water
160 words
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I like how the potential division is present within the first two paragraphs (us vs. amateur astronomer)–how the red-robed monks might be descended from the astronomer who kept the sign silent.
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Well, that hadn’t entered my mind, but I’ll own it! LOL!
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Very true! Pretty sure that when we’re down to the last couple on Earth they’ll still be fighting… I love that the monks’true intentions are flagged by the colour of their clothes (and a nice callback to the prompt).
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Thank you!
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So… when are you releasing this novel? I want to purchase. 🙂 Always solid writing; I really enjoy your style. Great job!
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It would be an interesting one to write! And here I swore I wasn’t going to write anything COVID-related. 🙂
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It’s really difficult to avoid it when it’s so profoundly affected all of us. 😉
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Arctic (156 words)
By: Allison K. Garcia
She sits, arms crossed, like an arctic glacier. She is impenetrable, unmoving. The air around her tingles with frozen particles. I cannot breathe. Each inhalation stings.
I explore for any chink in her icy armor. I must find my way inside again. That is the only safe place. Outside is death itself.
I have a conversation with her in my head.
“Why am I outside?”
“Same reason as always.”
We both have our shit. Things from our past that have marked us. Sometimes we are knee-deep before we realize.
“How can I melt an entrance?”
“That’s not how it works. Stop trying to fix it.”
I always try. Being outside is torture. “Sometimes talking helps.”
I realize the words escaped my mouth as she turns to me. A spark of light returns to her eyes. That fire will allow me back in.
I sit in my boat on the icy depths and wait for warmth again.
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Oops! I see I was supposed to put my name at the end and my handle! Ack!
@athewriter Element: ice/something in the air
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I love how embodied these two characters feel, how well you paint their history with lines so simple yet weighty like “Stop trying to fix it” & “Same reason as always.” I hope she finds warmth again.
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Very relatable. We’ve all been the glacier, and we’ve all been frozen out hoping to melt an entrance.
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A great take on the prompt – that first paragraph is the perfect description of a wronged partner.
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Feeling the tension; it’s quite palpable. I love the hope in the last line. Nicely done!
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Thanks!!!!
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Two Halves Make A Hole
“Fire melts ice,” you said, holding the cube over the candle, hot wax sizzling and popping with each bead of water’s blow.
“Ah, but ice can stop fire, too. It’s simply a matter of ratios. How much of one to the other.”
Droplets assaulted the flame directly now. It sputtered and went out, white smoke coiling upward toward its creator.
You laughed, shaking your fingertips free of the liquid still suspended from them, the corners of your eyes crinkling into familiar ravines. “True. Guess it’s good you’re my better half, then. Equals.”
But were never equal. Never good. We consumed each other, each in our own way.
You seared me.
I drowned you.
I give thanks now. For fire has no lasting form. Ice does. And no matter how long they search for you, they’ll never find you.
The Phoenix births from flames’ ashes, they say.
Not this time. This time, I rise.
Margaret Locke
@Margaret_Locke
153 words
Fire AND Ice
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Crud. That’s supposed to say We were never equal.
So 154 words. One blasted typo. Oops.
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Oh, beautifully done!
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Dear Margaret, good to see you here again – Romance is never far from your heart, is it? 🙂
“You seared me.”
“I drowned you.”
Love that
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Typo be damned. It’s still amazing.
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This is tantalizing. Love the stark turn at the “but we were never equal” and the phoenix reversal.
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I love the sneaky, snarky title, how it telegraphs the fact that this supposedly perfect pairing could never have a happy ending.
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“You seared me, I drowned you.” Such a solid, striking, amazing contrast. And you put a Phoenix in this! I’m so proud! 😉 Lol.
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Burning Ice
You have a fever, a woman’s voice said. Here, drink this.
Water, flowing. Clarity returns.
Where am I?
You are here. with us. Where did you come from?
I remember a ship, I remember cliffs of ice towering above us. I remember walking.
That was years ago. It is a world of fire, now. Everything is burning.
How did I get here?
We found you, encased in ice.
Yes, I was walking, I remember. I stopped to pick up a rock. It looked like a meteorite. There were lines like rivers in the ice. I heard rumbling, thunder. I remember falling.
How is she, Doc? Another voice, a man’s voice.
She’ll be all right. The portal is shaky though. We’d better get moving, soon.
I don’t understand, I said. What happened?
Your world ended, years ago. We travel through time portals in the rocks. Like that one you were holding when we found you.
156 words
ice
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Welcome back! Such imagination. I loved the format and the abandoning of the punctuation with speech (some of my all-time favourite writers do this). And yes, there are days, most days, when I wish I could write like Voima Oy.
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Thank you! It’s good to be back. xxx
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Dearest Voima,
The Royal Society once set a competition in which they received an anonymous submission in double-quick time and they said in reply: ‘We recognise the lion by it’s claw’ meaning they immediately recognised it was Isaac Newton’s work.
I’m sure everyone would join me in saying: ‘Voima, we recognise the lion by its claw…’
I’m going to call it ‘The Voima Exchange’ – and we all loved it here on past Flash! Friday’s and will for all the ones to come. xxx
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Avalina, I am honoured and humbled by your words. Thank you! It’s good to be back xxx
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Ooh, nice one Voimaoy
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Thank you so much, 250. Much appreciated!
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See that’s what I mean. The craft of you and a lot of the others here. Thank you for putting this into the world.
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Thank you for reading–and writing. This is an inspiring and encouraging place. Welcome!
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Neat twist.
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Thank you!
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I love the spareness of your prose and the way you use space around the lines. The twist ending slides in beautifully.
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Thank you! I’m so glad you enjoyed it! Thank you 🙏🏽
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I’m with Mark, the stripping of quotation marks really works for this wonderful piece. It leaves the reader slightly disoriented, like the unwitting traveler in the tale. Fine work, as ever!
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Thank you! Much appreciated
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I love your style. Like the others, I too love the lack of punctuation in the dialogues. Somehow more arresting. Beautifully done!
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Thank you! Much appreciated 🙏🏽
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Oh Voima! Wonderfully done as ever. The lack of punctuation mirrors the sleeper’s confusion well, and am I the only one unsettled by that line “You are here. with us.” and the suggestion that those distant scientists are about to flood through their portals to invade the past?
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Oh my, the possibilities…Thank you!
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I want to read this book. Please make it. 🙂 Beautiful phrasing as always.
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i’m so glad you enjoyed it.Thank you!
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And once, we were men on a quest to conquer virgin lands.
At the beginning, we were a party of ten, on two boats that were the horses on which we knights strode lakes and rivers and seas, laying anchor on shores and peninsulas and islands that called out to us. We surveyed the lands, set up our posts, spent a few days ashore, and even held a bonfire on the last night of our stay where we chose a name for our find. We lovingly called the last one Blue Cliff, inspired by the translucent blue cliffs of ice that framed the land on all sides. But that was before one of the cliffs spoke.
We are now six, scared and scarred, on the sole surviving boat, and hopefully a kinder, gentler land will find us. And no, we shall never speak of what exactly happened to the other four.
@ArvindIyer15
Word Count – 157
Ice Element
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I liked the idea of an ‘exchange’ between the land and its potential conquerors…
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Thank you, Avalina!
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Oh yes! Nicely done. Lovely take on the prompt.
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Thank you, Firdaus!
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I love the setting here; you did an excellent job of illustrating the scene: “Blue cliffs of ice.” Beautiful and haunting.
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Thank you, Tamara!
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I like the tone of this, and the suggestion that something very bad went down – is the survivors ‘ refusal to speak from fear or guilt?
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Thank you, Karl! The possibilities are open for interpretation!
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The creature that sat at the foot of a drift higher than she could see was the last of its kind. Not that she knew that. What she did know was that she was dying. Not from the cold, and not from the snow, though they weren’t helping. The invisible thing that killed the rest of her pack had come through the air for her. With a shudder, she put her head on her forepaws and died. The snow did as it always does, burying her deep for years beyond counting.
———-
Gunning my truck around the corner, I roared when I saw clouds of black smoke behind me. The thrill of the power was such a rush. I didn’t see the smoke rise to the upper atmosphere. I didn’t see the carbon dioxide help keep the Earth warmer. And I didn’t see the creature – with her invisible killer – emerge from the melting icecaps.
But soon enough, I saw the end.
160 words
@drmag00
Something in the air
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I like how your structure emphasizes the cause-and-effect relationship between the creature’s death and the driver’s lack of care.
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I love the division here, the two perspectives, and how they each work together to forge a single story. So well done!
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Nicely done Eric! It’s good that the gas-guzzlers will go the way of the dinosaurs but they’re probably going to take us all with them… 😤
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Visitors
Forever is a long time to sleep alone, floating in the cold. Time has very little meaning to me anymore, but I know a lot of it has passed since the last time I felt a disturbance in my waters. But here come bodies. Warm. Soft. Small. Noisy.
I push my limbs upwards through the ice and dark water. Eight bodies clustered tight together. Eight little hearts tapping inside their brittle shells like a creature about to be born.
My limbs crest the surface of the water. The warmth of the sun hurts after so long in the cold.
The bodies make a shrill sound. My limbs cut it short, dragging them and their little vessel low. Into the dark. Into the cold.
It’s quiet and still once more. Gentle waves washing against my icy home, lulling me back to my endless forever sleep. I wait alone and dream of nothing.
151 Words
Ice
@gallaetha_matt
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Beautifully painted. Your pacing worked perfectly to create a sense of sleep, waking, sleep.
And this line especially leaped out: “Eight little hearts tapping inside their brittle shells like a creature about to be born.”
@deborah_the_foy
LikeLiked by 1 person
Great stuff. And I can see it is just a lament to the Sanctuary. 😁
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You made some beautiful word pictures here: “Eight little hearts tapping inside their brittle shells like a creature about to be born.” What an interesting perspective on end-of-life! I absolutely love this!
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Warm. Soft. Small. Noisy. What a wonderful description of humanity from the viewpoint of something so much older and larger!
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Pingback: Fire Ice Flash Week 1 – Project Gemini
Stay With Me
The memories of my words hung frozen in the air. We’d all tried to describe the iceberg, but none had been able to capture its sheer magnitude and beauty.
“I’ll never be able to fit this in one photo,” Pat said.
“I wish I could go climb it,” Clarke said.
I heard someone call my name and whipped my head around.
“Shh – listen.” The frozen word hung in the air for a moment. Everyone paused, looking at me.
“What? I didn’t hear anything.” Pat started snapping away with his camera again.
I looked around. None of the other tourists seemed to have heard it either. All were talking and taking selfies.
The ice groaned and heaved as it started to flip over.
“Stay with me,” the waters whispered.
I stared into the dark depths, saw her face etched within wrinkled shadows. She smiled and then reached up to me. And knew I would never leave.
Ice element
Words: 158
@CarinMarais
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Hey Carin, long time no see! That was really spooky, enjoyed it. 🙂
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Thanks! 🙂 Great to be back!
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*her face etched within wrinkled shadows* such a gorgeous line. Beautiful writing.
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Beautiful. I love the contrast of air (first paragraph) to water (last paragraph). Excellent book-ending with some dark tension in the middle for a very effective sandwich. Well done!
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Stay with me… Such a simple phrase, but so unsettling. An invitation or a command? Atmospheric and alluring.
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The End
Sidney had always wanted to go to the Antarctic since she was a child. It was the bleakness: the desert ice: the isolation. She hated hot weather so it seemed attractive on multiple levels. Now here she was on her fourth visit – previously she’d been meteorite hunting with the British Antarctic Survey, which had led her to opportunities monitoring glacier retreat and penguin colonies.
Now the continent was getting warmer and it was so easy to get to that isolation was difficult: it was not what it was. Sidney resolved this would be her last trip. This stint as expedition leader to a bunch of half-arsed tourists, here to see ‘the last glacier in the Southern Hemisphere,’ was the worst.
As they approached the terminus of the glacier she pointed up to the cave. “They call that Dragon’s Lair, but I just call it The End. Seems more appropriate.”
Then came the beating wings of a long dormant beast.
____
Fire
WC: 160
@zevonesque
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Oh my, what a reality twist! Well-done!
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I very much enjoyed the ending. Maybe once it eats the tourists, the two of them will be friends and live in the bleak isolation together…
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Ooh, an alternate name for the Lair! Love the set-up to the last line!
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Poor Sidney! From Meteor Hunter to glorified Tour-Guide. No wonder she sounds so pissed. Written like someone who knows the pain of dealing with the general public 😉
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Clean Plate [155 words]
“So, it’s decided,” Old Claw declared.
More of those tasteless things floated by the den, yammering.
“But they aren’t fat seals,” Little White lamented.
“Look for ones with a red, white and blue patch on their coat,” suggested Mother. “They’re fatter!”
“But all that clothing to peel,” Limper moaned.
“True,” Old Claw admitted, “they’re difficult to eat. But when they come the seals disappear. Ice recedes. If we’re right, eating them now brings seals later.”
Another tour boat floated closer, parka-bundled passengers entertained by guides. “Look, folks! Polar bears descending from that ice cave! Don’t worry, though. They hunt seals, not us.”
The bears splashed loudly into the water and moved towards the inflatable.
“Uh, I guess we ought to get moving,” the guide said, trying to start the small motor.
The bears drew closer, filling the tourists’ iPhone screens.
The motor sputtered but never started. It was, as expected, a terrible meal.
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“Look for ones with a red, white and blue patch on their coat,” suggested Mother. “They’re fatter!”
Hahaha! Enjoyed your story, reminded me of Peter Jackson’s version of The Hobbit with the mountain trolls around the cooking pot.
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I laughed at this, poor tourists and their iPhones. Maybe they got some good pictures before it was all over… I loved the story!
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Lovely characterisation with the bears’ names, just right that Old Claw is the voice of wisdom, Mother has the sensible suggestion for making the best of it, the youngsters whining – an instantly recogniseable family dynamic.
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A Fleeting Glimpse of the Truth
It was him, the guy standing in the lifeboat. She could tell by his stance. Enlarging the photo his dark brown eyes spoke to her more than his words and actions ever did. He truly loved her. He told her so. She’d searched for years to find him. His mother would text her every birthday and Christmas he failed to celebrate. His mother truly loved him. She would send her the photo; she’d know what to do.
It was in an old copy of a magazine he loved to read. She’d found it at the back of the wardrobe hidden behind his hiking boots next to the survey map showing a red jagged cross. Ice ran through her veins as she tried to remember. An ice pick stabbed her heart rhythmically. He truly loved her. He told her so. That day she just didn’t believe him anymore. Then he was gone like a summer breeze. The bruises stayed longer.
@stellakateT
159 words
Ice element
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“Ice ran through her veins as she tried to remember. An ice pick stabbed her heart rhythmically.”
He truly turned her cold! Hate to think what she’d do if she found him! Revenge being a dish served – – – – “She would send her the photo; she’d know what to do” Lots of ways of interpreting this story, and that I like. 🙂
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I truly love it. I’m telling you so.
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The pain is so evident here, bleeding through your well-chosen words. That last sentence. Ouch. So, so good, Stella!
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Ouch! That last line is a killer and turns the whole piece into something much darker.
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The gentle lap of water against the side of the boat perhaps, lulled me to sleep.
I heard him then. “Hush! Don’t tell.” What was he doing here?
The nudge to my ribs was harsh; I yelped.
“You fell asleep!” My stepmom accused, a single eyebrow raised.
“Growpbd…” I mumbled frantically gesturing to the sky. My tongue was frozen, I must have slept with my mouth open.
“Eh what?”
“Groowwp…”
She rolled her eyes. I hated family vacation. Who goes to Antarctica?
We had stopped at the iceberg cave, the portal to our world. My father was busy tying the boat. I stretched out my tongue and tried to speak again.
Then the fat Growpwaddle dropped from the sky right onto our boat taking us down.
I spluttered to the surface feeling like an ice-cube.
Stepmom bobbed beside me. “You could have warned us about your silly friend!” she yelled over the cackling of the prankster.
@firdausp
Word count: 156
Ice / something in the sky
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Hahaa! really enjoyed that!
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Thank you 🙂
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I identify with “Growpbd” in the morning. Lol! It’s hard to get my mouth to move before the first cup of coffee. I love the ebb and flow of this, almost like that “gentle lap of water against the side of the boat…”
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Thank you so much 🙂
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I love the image of the family bobbing up to the surface, the MC “feeling like an ice cube”
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Thank you 🙂
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“Check the GPS and compass again.”
“See if we’re still sunbathing in Marrakesh?” he spits back, colder than the icebergs. “Ha! Now, we’re on the Drakensberg mountains. And the compass is still spinning faster than a politician.”
“Right! We’ll use the sun, okay?”
“Fine.”
We sail…a direction lightening our spirits, and the sun is so beautiful. Although…shouldn’t it hurt to look at it? Creamy and soft…like warm blankets. There are vague shouts about a large iceberg…a cave: a we’ll crash!
I see it now. A slit in a huge chunk of ancient ice…and something in the water, but our saviour sun is right there! So close to it now.
‘Oh please! I’m here…I’m coming.’
There are screams, the tremendous crack of ice splitting, shouts of ‘it’s a mouth!’.
But the light is so beautiful. I aim for it, pick up speed, weeping with joy as the vast, thick limb upon which my sun sits guides us home.
@sian_ink
Word count: 157
Ice element.
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I’m impressed by how sinister you’ve made the sun by describing it as “creamy and soft”! This can’t bode well for anyone…
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Don’t go toward the light!! 😉 Vivid; you can feel the tenacity of the narrator: “weeping with joy.” Nicely done!
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Nice job with the narrator ensnared by the false sun in the final paragraph!
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Last one
Ice wailed. The crew of the Snow Queen passed around a blood-smeared can of beans.
“I’m fine.”
“We need to clean the wound.”
“I said I’m fine.”
Lifeboat hadn’t moved for hours. The air was still. Crowded with icy needles. Here on ice night switched on with a snap. They weren’t ready. A hand pointed to the cave.
“Maybe –“
“Are you out of your mind?”
A breeze silenced the chatter. Forced them to cover their mouths. It reeked of decayed corpses.
“Eww.”
“Shh, you hear that?”
A distant rumble escaped the cave.
“Ice.”
“Yeah.”
Empty can of beans fell on the ground.
“Last one.”
Hungry eyes followed as it rolled to join its empty friends. Another rumble. Another corpse-filled breeze. A scrawny man retched over the boat.
“I don’t like this.”
“Shut up.”
“The air –“
“Shut it. We are not alone.”
Fire wrapped in a shadow melted the ice.
Snap.
@raijori
150 words
Fire element
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I like a bit of blood and puke. Great story, Artie.
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I may or may not have jumped at that last word. You nailed the tension in this! *Glances over shoulder…*
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Great bit of foreboding with the way they shut down the suggestion of going into the cave. Why would you stay out in the cold and risk freezing to death? Oh, I see… 😁
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“The Right to Cold”*
I learned hate the day my brother fell through the ice. Hate that lodges a shard in your heart, poisoning your blood with every arterial pump. My parents and the villagers spoke of the terrible “accident.” But they knew it, too. His death wasn’t fate or bad luck. It was murder, but I’d never see his killers punished. I did not know their names or faces. But I knew their crimes, and I hated them for it.
Ice is life. Our grandfather’s words echoed in my ears like the drums of war. Without it, our people would’ve never known the life-giving richness of the creatures swimming below. But the ice is dying, as surely as my brother turned blue and sunk to unknown depths. Their killers, the same. Poisoners of the earth and sky, living plastic, disposable lives thousands of miles away.
They think they’re untouchable. But the ice will have her revenge when she drowns them all.
*Credit to Sheila Watt-Cloutier, indigenous activist and inventor of this term
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@tnkloeden
158 words
Ice element
(Guess I’m out of practice!)
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Beautiful, Taryn, and I love that phrase “the right to cold,” and the helpful attribution! Looking her up now!
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Girl, I have missed your words! So, so good. Love this: “But the ice is dying,” and the correlation to the revenge line at the end.
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Beautiful work Taryn. I love that the narrator describes our lives as “plastic, disposable” – it must surely be so when we treat them with such disrespect, and the effects ripple out to hurt everyone.
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“You know what it’s like to be cold Jimmy? I’m not talking about those winter days in Wisconsin. I mean deep cold, so cold your soul freezes into a small ball, so cold that mist pools on top of open water, so…”
“Damn it Bill, you do that to every new guy.” I interrupted. “We’ve trained him up and he’s worked in plenty of cold spots before or we wouldn’t have hired him.” I turned to the kid. “Hey kid, it’s not going to be that bad. You’ll be fine. C’mon, let’s get the boat in the water.”
Jimmy looked at Bill and subconsciously shivered. I was going to have a talk with Bill. It was hard enough recruiting photographers for this goddamned job. But the world won’t believe it without proof.
We made our way to the zodiac. Jimmy picked up the cold weather camera and smiled. That’s when we heard the leathery wings beat the air behind us.
@Jay_Tay_13
160 words
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Well-done! I like how you set the scene, vivid characters and dialogue in such a short piece. Great ending!
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Thank You. I just need to keep trying. I mean, I keep reading all these other beautiful beautiful stories however, and mine looks dirty and disheveled in comparison. So practice, practice, practice 🙂
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I like the grittiness of this story. it’s real and true to life. The details are very effective.–young Jimmy smiling with his camera–I can see this! We are all learning here…
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Thank you so much. It’s encouraging when people are gentle with a fledgling. Thank you
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Poor Jimmy! “The world won’t believe it without proof”: I love how you sneakily slip in that we’re about to meet something massive and terrifying before the final reveal. 🙂
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I tried to set that up to heighten tension, while being vague enough that it could be anything. I hope it worked that way. Thank you so much for the kind words.
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So good! I can sorta crawl into this story and feel it all around me. So vivid and real-feel. Great job!
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Thank you. You guys are so supportive here. I might have to stick around, if y’all will have me.
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Of course! We love new vict… I mean, participants in the Lair! Please stay! 🙂
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Fantastic dialogue, the opening sounding like it should be spoken by Quint from Jaws, and the exasperated narrator seeming like the nicer guy. But then the little tell-tale details – he doesn’t bother referring to Jimmy by name, and just how many of the new guys have they gotten through? Good stuff!
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TRANSIT
Calving – the process by which part of a glacier cleaves away to form an iceberg, growler or bergy bits:
She thinks about this between contractions. Wills the baby to cleave from her in a rush. A growler in the birthing pool.
Calf – back portion of the lower human leg:
He massaged her calves for her every night in the final trimester, to stave off the cramp that woke her in the night, tiny fists of pain balled under her skin. She is inhabited by aliens.
Calf love – another term for first love:
She leans her head against the side of the pool. The midwife tells her to rest, she’s transitioning. And it’s true. She’s softening her edges where the water laps against her, letting go.
Making calf eyes – an adoring look at the object of your affections:
The baby’s lashes are long and damp and soon its ink-blue eyes will turn to brown. Every moment of life a transition.
@RachaelDunlop
159 words, ice
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Brilliant piece of flash!
“A growler in the birthing pool.” Blimey, fantastic.
Rachael’s back everyone…
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I adore this piece. How well you’ve captured that sense of “slipping” from one thought to the next in the midst of tremendous pain. Beautiful.
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Thank you so much, Deborah.
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Beautiful. I love the theme of etymology and the transitions from one place to the next in this piece. Well done!
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Thank you!
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Such fine writing Rachael! The technique is brilliant, all the different connotations and branches of ‘calf’, the image of softening at the edges is beautiful and the final sentence is a truth that perfectly encapsulates all you’ve done here. Marvelous.
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Thank you so much, Karl!
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Not Now, Any More
“It’s nothing.” Higher pitched than Fire had heard her, he recognised the timbre. His blood froze, ice instantaneous, nails grating grooves into the chalky mortar beneath his curled fingertips.
“Sure?”
The boy’s breath caught and held.
“Sure I’m sure.” The girl’s reply was pat, barely a beat betraying her. “Why would it be?”
“Sure you’re sure, Addy?” Stepping around the corner from the brick, Fire met her dark eyes with his own, keeping them somewhat, somehow, steady. Soon, salt would fall, to flow. Still, he ignored the group gathered around her, though they were silent, watching, players played. He had shown her how to swim against the tide. Tension teased the moment, airborne back and forth, before Addy blinked, breaking their gaze.
Fire sighed. “Fair dos. Your choice, I guess.” He shook his head. “And you had one,” he added, helplessly. His head turned before he could gauge any reaction. He suspected it didn’t matter. Not now, any more, anyway.
@FallIntoFiction
160 words
Ice
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Powerful tension here. Excellent characterization through dialogue!
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Oh Addy, you silly girl. I’ve read this several times over, looking for clues as to what she’s agreed to and I’m still unsure, but the palpable sense of menace is enough to make me sad for her. Great touch that Fire seems so regretful too, but she had her chance to say no.
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The Last Redoubt
Zira stood chewing plankton jerky, killing time. She already knew the ‘berg was melting, but if the passengers aboard The Greta thought the survey dinghy was returning too soon they’d riot. Three thousand people fighting onboard a 500-berth ship… No thanks. So she waited.
But every failed survey whispered of things lost beneath the waters; Dogs. Bookstores. Sunlit leaves. Even if they hadn’t been distracted by the virus when the waves came, there was nowhere to go. Taking to the seas just delayed the inevitable by one miserable decade.
She looked down at the icy water. Would the old world reach up to catch her? She closed her eyes. Thought of grass. Stepped forwards…
Then Rochette screamed. Zira turned, guilty, but he was looking up to something new in the sky, a bird too small to traverse the limitless waters.
A nesting bird.
Zira watched it as she raced her team to the dinghy, willing it to lead them home.
@Karl_A_Russell
160 words
Everything in the water
Hope in the air
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Love this. Nice turn into hope from wistfulness.
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wonderful story! 🙏🏽
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So much to like here, as usual. As usual? My GOD! I just time-zapped myself!
“Plankton jerky.” (Nice). “But every failed survey whispered of things lost beneath the waters; Dogs. Bookstores.” (hidden meaning there, gotcha)
Awww – that nesting bird was their salvation. OK. I’ve worked it out. You miss us Flashdogs (dogs and bookstores) and the Flashdog resurrection is the ‘nesting bird’ leading us all home to salvation. No? In that case… I still enjoyed the gritty story.
‘Everything in the water, Hope in the air’ (liked that too). Good to see you, Karl.
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Such an appropriate story for this week, I feel. Great to see and read your writing here again, Karl. And so much packed in, as ever.
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This line: “Would the old world reach up to catch her? She closed her eyes. Thought of grass. Stepped forwards…” There’s so much good tension here. I want to read more.
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The Awakening
Are you sure this is a good idea? Dean said.
The four men were standing in the dinghy, flamethrowers in hand, but their heart sinking into their stomach. One spike of ice can already be intimidating, let alone a mountain full of them.
It needs to be woken up, Jerry said. It’s been way too long. The people need their 150 to 160 word flash fiction back. The writers maybe even more. They’ve been craving for it for years. Remember that Bart Van Goethem guy? With his meta stuff? He’ll be one happy chap.
Dean didn’t seem to be too sure. Not about the flamethrowers and certainly not about Bart Van Goethem’s stories.
C’mon guys, let’s melt this sucker and liberate the beast, Jerry said.
Behind them a bubble popped at the surface. Then two. The men didn’t get the time to turn around and wonder what that otherworldly rumble was that shot up from the deep.
@bartvangoethem
Word count: 157
Something in the water
LikeLiked by 9 people
Always enjoy your wry sense of humour. Hits the mark! I do believe that otherworldly rumble might have been a Flashdog fart. It was Voima, possibly Stella, no, Mark. *giggle*
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We’re gonna need a bigger boat!
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Oh, I remember that Bart Van Goethem guy and his meta stuff all right. * grin * Welcome back.
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Welcome back, Bart. Nice to see you writing here again – and this made me smile. The people do indeed need their 150-160 words!
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Jerry and Dean! Love it! I agree with Jerry; time for the Awakening to happen. Thank goodness the lair reopened for a while. 🙂
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Very meta, and very Bart. I hope Rebekah and Deb realise what they’ve unleashed here!
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Octave in Ice
“It’s a singing night!” you announce.
We climb the ice under curtains of light. On the shelf, our heartbeats echo the glacier’s pulse, our lips trace her whispered song.
—
Terrible howls dragged across the bay. Dead fish washed ashore. Villagers brought orphans to the Red Adept for selection.
—
A whine reaches us, a sound so tiny it’s a tickle in my jawbone.
“A boat!” We clamber down to the tablestones.
—
The Red Adept navigated the floes. The glacial wall rose above, teethed in uncalved bergs. In the bow, a child huddled in furs.
—
The boat’s a red blur, then a white streak. Left behind, a furry squiggle slows into the shape of a girl. She’s a knowing one, like us. We teach her the song.
—
On the quay, the adept scowls against the squall. Interminable wails, louder than ever.
—
We know heat is betrayal, the singe of rejection. But Mother’s kisses are cool. We lullaby together in her snowy arms.
Nancy Chenier
160 words
Fire Element: something in the air
@ncscrawls
LikeLiked by 8 people
So many chilling contrasts here–the red against the ice, the rejecting warmth against the loving cool (LOVE how you flipped that), the uncalved ice against the “birthed” rejected girl. It’s a harrowing, horrifying scene, vocal and visceral. Nicely done. (Of course I’m hoping the sequel features a harrowing, horrifying scene of revenge of the girls with their magic 😀 )
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Beautiful phraseology; of course, I’m not at all shocked. 😉 I love the music theme!
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With the apocalyptic imagery of the opening paragraphs, I was waiting for the sacrifice to meet a grisly, glacial end, but you subverted expectations and finished up with a beautifully tender image. Fantastic.
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Frozen Air
In a dinghy under the sheer cliffs of a glacier we searched for survivors. We all pointed at the holes, planned searches of the ice caves. Never did we think that it was in the air itself.
My crew all went in the same way, one by one. First their eyes would freeze, their stares fixed into the distance as their screams began. Then their noses would fill with ice, their lips would harden, crack and then break before the frost worked along their tongue, changing their screams into something more horrible as its edge deadened and it went flat. Finally their throats were closed and the screaming ended alongside their life. Before their bodies rested lifeless, all this ice thawed and evaporated as if never there.
Once only I remained, my ear turned cold and I heard them.
A cold, hard whisper chilled me to my core and told me to leave. “We are here now. Never return.”
159 Words
Fire Element
@jamesatkinson81
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Ohhhh you’ve left me with so many questions! Who was the original team and what were they doing at the glacier? Who is the speaker, and why were they alone allowed to escape? and of course, who is this invisible being that has taken control and wields such deadly power? What a dreadful, compelling scene you’ve created here.
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Thank you – what I really enjoyed about the word limit on this one was filling it without answering any questions. I find that quite fun 🙂
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“My ear turned cold and I heard them.” I love that phrasing! Spectacular!
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🙂 Thank you.
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Delightfully gruesome! The ice seems like a fire consuming the crew. The cold at the ear is a nice turn from the usual as the icy dead decide to leave a witness.
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A chilling tale (pun intended but very poor…) I love how you go all out with the description of the icy deaths, and the changing sound as the screamer’s tongue freezes is a fabulously gruesome detail that makes it all work.
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The boat cleaves softly through the Arctic water, rocking gently.
Frozen, spiteful air is beginning to gnaw through her coat.
Billy doesn’t seem to mind. Billy would, he had proudly told her, have been happy in a T-shirt.
He jabs a pink, ungloved finger at a hollow crevice in the side of an iceberg. ‘Lookit mommy! Do you think something hatched from there?’
She smiles mysteriously, and says ‘Maybe’ in her special mothering voice.
Billy likes that. He points out some birds next. And then-
‘Mommy, what’s that in the water?’
She peers over the side. The ocean is a churning mass of black and green, so deep and clear it almost looks like living glass. The dull reflection of the boat ripples on its surface.
So does hers. So does her son’s.
And so does something else’s. An inch to her right, where no one else is standing.
Something so much colder than the air closes around her throat.
@250Fiction
160 words
Ice Element: something in the water
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I love the how you build the tension here. The ending, wow! Well-done.
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I like how you hook us into the characters before dooming them. Mwahaha. And the zeroing in to that doom is craftily described.
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Oh goodness, you’ve anthropomorphized so well that feeling we all have in winter sometimes, like the wind is so cold and knifelike, we’re sure it’s intent on destroying us. In this case, however, you’ve taken the animation a step further and turned it into a true monster, leaving us reeling in horror and mystery at the story’s ending cliffhanger. I hope she’s able to turn her mother’s ingenuity into a clever way for them to escape!
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Chilling! And I love the present tense usage. It brings me right into it. Well done!
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I love the “special mothering voice” – I’m pretty sure all parents use it when we’re trying to make something mundane seem vaguely magical. And that ending, as the mundane really does become magical, is both frightening and satisfying.
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How Do You Know
Cora had grown up amongst the constant current of rivers and lakes, and spent most summers submerged in an ocean that pulsed in the tandem with her heart.
But here she found water made land.
She stared at the ripples below, streaming away from the boat, perhaps going on to become a wave against a warmer shore. Or something as grand as a glacier, like a waterfall.
A sliver of ice broke off into the water and bobbed away.
She wondered how such solid semi-permanence existed right up against something incapable of keeping still.
How did the water choose?
Elliot’s gloved hand found hers and squeezed. She felt the sharp diamond edge of her ring twisted the wrong way against her fingers, awkward and painful under the fabric that still left her hands cold.
“It’s beautiful isn’t it?”
She smiled and agreed it was, but kept watching the water that flowed beyond the horizon, moving farther than she could see.
Casey Rose Frank
160 words
Ice Element
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So many striking images held in perfect tension–the pulsing ocean and her pulsing heart; the sliver of ice and the sharp edge of her ring; and of course her own inner turmoil as she weighs personal freedom against permanence, like the water and the glacier. You’ve done such a great job maintaining the parallel between the external and internal in a way that’s both stirring and sad. A lovely piece.
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I have MISSED your writing! This line particularly got me for the strong image it placed in my mind: “But here she found water made land.” I love how you worded that. 🙂
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Gorgeously lyrical, it drew me right in. The gentle parallel is as beautiful as it is painful. So good, Casey.
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Beautiful images, wonderful words, especially the gentle discomfort of the twisted ring standing in for the way Cora chafes at her restraints. I think that poor, permanent Elliot is going to find that the water is never really still for long…
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Beautiful descriptions, and what an ending! Well-done 🙏🏽
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Journal of Percival McFarquhar 1876
The walls of the Explorer’s Club was covered in exotic beasts from the four corners of the global. Yet the northern creatures were so dull. Just white versions of other animals.
At the top of the Queen’s empire where, I commissioned a small boat of uneducated natives to take me out amongst their ice worlds, to find the exotic beast I wanted. From the bow of my boat, I spotted a snout of ice. Two large black gaps for nostrils. My motley crew were reluctant but I urged them onwards. The snout rose from the water to reveal a mouth of man-sized teeth. The creature ripped our boat from the water and took us back to its ice cave.
However I meet my end, I know my true destiny is for my bones to decorate the floor of this creature’s cave. If anyone should find this journal, you shall know the true fate of Percival McFarquhar.
@the_red_fleece
Ice
156 Words
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What an accomplished and beautifully described piece of flash! Wonderful.
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Thank you. You are too kind.
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I’m particularly fond of the phrase “snout of ice” and plan to inject it into future conversations as often as possible. I like how you brought to life the monster you saw in the photo, and the unique spin you put on the “journal left by a dead explorer” trope. Though we’re not privy to the next day’s entry, so perhaps there’s hope yet for our fearless Percy. It would be fun to read more journal entries.
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I’ll be writing more journal entries but sadly I think Percy’s fate best left in that frozen cave. He may have been fearless but he ended up where he should be I think
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Love the journal-esque take on this. The setting is perfect; I love your descriptions: “…was covered in exotic beasts from the four corners…” Nicely done!
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Thanks Tamara. For me the trick to Flash Fiction is trying to get find those thumb nail descriptions which capture so much in so few words
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I love the narrator’s style, and the journal form is wonderful. Yes, there could be more entries, too. Beautifully done!
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Thank you Voima. It is always difficult to manage the difference between stylised writing and style getting in the way of the writing.
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I think I may be alone in hoping there are no more journal entries and that Percival meets a painful end, but that’s only because you’ve done such a great job of capturing the insufferable voice, casual racism and blithe violence of the English “upper-class” huntsman. If there is a sequel, I’d like it to be a long series of ghastly tortures performed on his no doubt rotund form!
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Thanks Karl. I’m glad the character came across as insufferable as I hoped he would be. I never thought of him as rotund though.
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Eight aboard, yet I`m alone with an experience haunting me every night.
I planned my stay at the research station as a career boost and a time of inner recreation, leaving my demons behind.
It worked until I went out on a boat alone, ignoring the safety regulations. It felt great – just waves, wind, and me. But turning my head after some miles, I saw a huge shadow in the water. I sped up, it followed. What on Earth was this…..fish? Suddenly its head emerged; a mouth full of teeth opened with a roar. I can’t remember how I escaped, but I did.
0ur boat passing those same glaciers makes me panic. We might all die, yet I can’t warn them. They wouldn’t believe me. And if nothing showed, they’d say I’m mentally unfit and send me back to a ruined career, a straining life and a loveless marriage. I’d rather end up in the fangs of a monster.
160 words
element ice (water)
@evitagrazia
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What a terrifying secret to keep! You’ve done a great job contrasting the researcher’s left-behind demons with the real-life demon lurking in the deep. I also like the foreshadowing of ignoring safety regulations. Clearly the researcher is unsafe either way, and it’s fascinating that their choice was to face the real monster rather than return to the trauma of regular life. I wonder how many of us would make that same choice? Thanks for sharing this story!
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Thank you very much for your nice comment; I would even say great analysis! I’m hardly on wordpress (though I should do more on my blog), so I have just seen it. Thanks again!
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That last line is a gut-punch. You’ve pulled me in to the point of view character’s story with the strong contrasts between monster and person. Great work!
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Aw, thank you very much! 🙂
I’m hardly on wordpress (though I should do more on my blog), so I have just seen it.
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I love that the narrator doesn’t even *try* to warn the rest of the potential victims – such craven cowardice suggests just how far they will go to avoid going home.
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Thank you very much for your comment! I’m hardly on wordpress (though I should do more on my blog), so I have just seen it.
I wouldn’t call him a coward. He is a realist – and very convinced they wouldn’t believe him. So he sees 3 options:
Being attacked by the monster, no matter whether he says something or not; or being sent back home if he says something and nothing happens; or he doesn’t say anything and nothing happens.
Obviously his situation at home is so horrible that he feels it is even worse than being killed by a monster. Well, maybe he isn’t a realist, but has a delusion….
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Nostalgia’s Not What It Used to Be
Felix killed the outboard; the RIB glided silently alongside the small jetty. After tying up and unloading the supplies, he clambered onto the sun-bleached planks and stretched.
The expanse of pristine white sand looked like an Antarctic wasteland but he knew that beyond the beach was a simple wooden cabin – complete with solar panels – where his older brother was spending the summer in seclusion. Tyrone had been amused by the irony of working on his screenplay of Sophocles’ tragedy Philoctetes all alone on an island – although one just a few kilometres from the mainland.
#
Inside, Tyrone’s laptop highlighted the pallor of his lifeless body, slumped on one side of his chair; on the screen, a completed entry to the rebooted Flash! Friday, with the cursor over the Post Comment button.
Felix’s index finger moved to the keypad for a moment, then swiftly held down the computer’s power key.
In his experience, it was never a good thing to go back.
@GeoffHolme #FlashDogs #vss365
WC: 160
Ice element
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Hahha! Well said! (I enjoyed the story too). x
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Thanks, Avelina.
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SOZ… Avalina.
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Thanks… that ‘a makes’ all the difference… 🙂
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Clearly Felix took away the wrong lesson from this encounter. The true moral of the story has to do with the danger of hiring family as editors.
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Dear misguided Felix. Someday, he shall learn difficult lessons while his past informs the future… 😉 Excellent work as always, Geoff! 🙂
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You’re too kind, Tamara. I haven’t written anything for quite a while – not even a shopping list! Covid-19 lockdown blues, I suppose. Writing is a muscle – you need to exercise it to keep in shape. I’m hoping that the return of Flash!Friday will give me the impetus to keep plugging away!
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Ha! Regardless of whether you should go back or not, the idea of a writer secluding themselves to work on an epic then getting drawn in by something like Flash! Friday is a universal truth.
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Are you saying that the return of FF *isn’t* something epic, Karl?
I hear that ‘real’ writers often use flash fiction prompts as a warm-up exercise. I’ve yet to find out if this true…
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Antarctic Summer
People said that working from home, I could work from anywhere. Why not Antarctica?
I mean, no coronavirus, no cats sitting on my keyboard. Just me, the penguins, ice mountains, and a toasty research yurt. Plus, I hear they have hot springs and saunas on the eastern coast. I’ll take pictures by day, write blog posts by night, and when I’m not working, I’ll already be in the most epic destination on earth. Anyway, with all those polar vortexes these days, I’m betting summer in the Antarctic will be warmer than winter in Virginia. Sunnier too.
“Turn it about,” a voice shouts, recalling me to the present.
Ocean spray stings my face as the dinghy carries seven researchers and me, the blogger, to the mainland from the ship that brought us here.
Six months working in Antarctica begins right now. We hit a breaker, the dinghy bounces, and my bag—laptop and all—plunges overboard into the icy waves.
@josettekeelor
Ice
159 words
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Not… not the laptop… *gasp*! 🙂 I love it! And now I want to live in a yurt in Antarctica.
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Thanks! I know, right? It was a painful ending, but it had to be done. 🙂 And I hear ya on wanting the Antarctica yurt!
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Great build up to the denouement. Enjoyed that.
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Thanks! Glad you enjoyed it!
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That’s a fun story.
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Thanks so much!
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Aaarrrghl That last line… Can’t wait for the movie – “The Yurt Locker”!
Good work!
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Lol, that would be awesome! Thanks so much. 🙂
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Something in the water, indeed. Noooooooooooo!!!!!
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I know, cringe moment!
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That has a Twilight Zone (“Time Enough at Last”) vibe to it, and I dig it! Nice.
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Thanks so much! I thought of that episode too while writing the ending. So glad it worked!
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I’ll have you know this hurt on a visceral level. -What a picture you’ve painted us of soaring hope crashing into despair. Though if this were the movies, it would be an arctic waterproof bag that’s tethered to the boat, right? #optimist
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Thanks! And yes, I’m sure a movie character would have better prepared. 🙂
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This is the most painful story I’ve read yet! And I get the feeling that the blogger is likely to find that they’re woefully misinformed on all the other delights of arctic living too…
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Yep, probably! Thanks for reading!
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Heaven to Hell
Four months ago, my doctoral advisor had received a grant for a group of us to do research over the summer on an iceberg. I couldn’t believe my good fortune, days doing research and nights discussing our discoveries.
Aircraft could reach the iceberg we would be studying, so we had to travel by ship. My advisor volunteered to look after the equipment and food, so all the team had to worry about was our personal gear.
It was a long first day getting everything we needed for the summer off the ship before it had to leave. I crashed in my tent. The next morning, at breakfast, I asked for coffee.
My adviser pored me a decaf tea. “Didn’t bring coffee. Keeps me awake.”
I sat down next to a long-faced college and took a sip of the tea. It tasted like hot water. “He’ll wish he could stay up at night before this summer is over.”
@TonyDingwell
Word Count: 157
Ice Element
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Lol, I can totally relate to feeling that coffee withdrawal! Especially waking up on an iceberg. Bring me my coffee! Love the last line too. Nice job.
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I love the human touch you’ve got here, with an advisor eminently capable of procuring grants and arranging ships to icebergs while still overlooking some basics. Good thing the colleagues have each other–I hope they also have a good sense of humor and the willingness to develop a taste for herbal teas LOL.
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Oh, the treachery of this line: “My adviser pored me a decaf tea. “Didn’t bring coffee. Keeps me awake.” I feel it. I feel it in my soul. 😉
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I think I’d take my chances swimming after the ship! That’s going to be a long, cruel summer…
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The water beneath the boat shifted gently. Erik stood, quickly finding his balance. He looked down at his fellow travelers. Fear in their eyes. Both for themselves and for him.
Erik turned to face the puckered white wall. “Begone!” He shouted, staring into a large gap. “Let us pass!”
The ice monster shifted. Slit nostrils between mismatched eyes flared as its jagged mouth broke the water’s surface. Its face straightened, looking down on the travelers gripping the edge of the boat.
It happened quickly. A flash from the sky. The sound of beating wings. All-consuming fire. The shriek of death as the monster quickly turned to water. Cheers from the boat as the dragon who cleared the way soared into the sky…
Erik woke. The screen in front of him came into focus. Words forming a half-finished sentence. But now he knew how to finish it. He smiled and muttered silent thanks to the flash dragon.
@colin_d_smith
ice
156 words
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Nice image of the sea monster rising above the water, showing mismatched eyes. Fun story!
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One of the best closing sentences I’ve ever read.
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Says the flash dragon. 😉
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Lovely images! Love the twist in the tale.
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Love that last line!
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What a great take! I love the immediacy and vivid feel of this: “A flash from the sky. The sound of beating wings. All-consuming fire.” Nicely done!
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A nice take on writer’s (ice) block – if only we could all call on a dragon when it seems like there’s no way forward.
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Encroaching Science
They are coming.
BOOM
They of the false fur disguising flaccid limbs.
BOOM
They of the alloyed frozen wings and spinning pain-filled fins.
BOOM
They of the flying fangs and projectile spikes that pierce the membraned wing and burn the muscled side.
BOOM
They of the fearsome cage that torch the mighty claw and break the indomitable spirit.
BOOM
They of the ghastly white boxes filled with chains and noise and glittering treasure with which they carve out torture.
BOOM
Tell the brethren.
BOOM
They of the diamond fangs and sparkling scales, encasing limbs of strength.
BOOM
They of the crested back and arched wing, which promenade upon the sweeping currents.
BOOM
They with breath of fire and spike of poison, used with grace and stateliness.
BOOM
They who have never before been caged by any.
BOOM
They of the carved iridescent walls and hearths that smell like home.
BOOM
Tell them.
BOOM
Flee.
@talithaarise
154 words
Fire element
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I love the feeling of menace of who’s coming and the repetition of warning–both by the humans and the creature sounding the alarm. Nice job!
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Of course my thoughts instantly go to Tolkien–the recurring BOOM reminds me of Moria and the drums in the deep. So ominous, so foreboding. This story is packed with rich, violent details about the coming enemy, and ending on that one word–after the thunderous booms–“flee”! Its end is both striking and fearsome. Nicely done.
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Oh this is such a unique take on the prompt. Beautiful descriptions of the predators and the prey. Great build up to the warning.
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Incredible dragonly call to arms! Amazing!
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Wonderful twist in the tale, having those majestic creatures run from such small, cruel beings.
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“Find something to represent how you feel in this moment. We’ll choose something else when you’ve healed and compare the two.”
The words tumbled in her mind all week as Ivy searched for something, anything, to explain her life. Nothing fit. No song, no quote, no painting, no words seemed to capture her soul and its pain. She had been so close to giving up but she trudged on, fought on, and made it through another seven days.
She sat in a lumpy chair as she waited for the doctor and was lost in hundreds of photos through endless pages on her phone. Finally, a picture of something so real. A deep black hole inside of her icy heart. No one able to enter safely or patch the void.
Ivy held on to the possibility that a warm wind will thaw the ice into drops of hope, and tiny ripples will meld into waves, touching those around her once more.
@BaseballMama621
160 words
Ice element
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Beautifully written, Deanna! I like the comparison of the coldness she’s feeling and the ice in the picture. Very nice!
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You’ve painted with striking clarity Ivy’s anguish and her difficult road to healing. I love how she clings to hope when hope seems absent, and how’s she’s determined to draw hope even from a photo representing her pain. So beautiful.
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This is beautiful. Love your descriptions of the anguish Ivy was feeling. Nice take on the prompt.
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Oh my goodness, this setting. It’s so stirring and harsh, but there’s hope, too. I love this!
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The despair feels so real when Ivy can’t find a single thing to typify her life – being cut so far loose from life is terrible; I’m glad she finally found something to identify with.
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Doppelgangers
When they find the polar research ship RRS Attenborough they will be stunned. Another Mary Celeste mystery. It will appear the eight of us were never there. Now we waited before the ice cave and as scheduled the sky darkened as a vast interstellar vessel moved silently through the clear air and settled over us. A rendezvous of over 500 trillion miles.
From the cave, the new eight emerged, clad in the same red snowsuits that still adorned our fading bodies. The now empty inflatable we had escaped in bumped against the ice as I observed them scramble aboard, carefully watching their footing on the steep icy slope.
As I merged I recalled for one brief moment what it meant to be an individual, a solitary being. I saw the one that was now me. And now I am back among all.
They turned the inflatable north toward McMurdo and the beginning of the end.
Farknight
Word Count: 156
Fire element: Something in the air
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I love this POV! what a fun angle, looking down at the “humans” returning from their exploration. Earth is about to have a very, very rough day.
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This is very intriguing. Nicely done.
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This is deep, a lot of stuff happening under the surface here. 🙂 I love it!
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A different take on The Thing / Invasion of the Body Snatchers type of alien takeover tales, and not one I’ve seen very often – well done!
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I stretch my wings and feel the chill blast of air as I climb high above the diamond sparkled ice and survey the intrepid boat riding low on the silver water. It is filled with figures who stand like tiny red candles below me. Shall I use my power to freeze their progress, or shall I let them pass unaware, heading for their unknown destination? There is nothing but the gentle ripple of water lapping against my shelter. My solitary home. I take a breath. Life and death balance on the knife edge of my desire. I am the dreaded beast, the great unknown. I bring the mighty wind that roars, and freezes, and cracks the bones. They are tiny and alone. Life or death is mine to bestow, and yet they travel forward. Unknowing. Unaware. I flap my wings and soar far above into the low grey clouds. Today the ice dragon shows his mercy.
@SarahCain78 (ice)
Something in the Air
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Loved this! Beautiful.
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I love the parallelism of the solitude of the voyagers & the ice dragon, and the dragon’s confidence in his own power held in tension against his respect for the voyagers’ courage. A beautiful picture.
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Whew! They don’t know just how lucky they are! 😉 I love this line: “…figures who stand like tiny red candles…” So vivid!
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Great word choice – The Ice Dragon’s power comes across so clearly even when it’s not demonstrated, making his decision all the more merciful.
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Cannibalism is a measure of last resort. But desperation drives the unthinkable.
“What kind of monster would even consider it?” I mumbled, swimming in the darkest depths of self-loathing.
A mother’s love is fraught with peril. My babies’ empty bellies and sunken eyes cut me far more deeply than their silent tears, tears which disappeared in the chilly brine. I found myself teetering unsteadily between unfathomable hope and abject realism. Without food, the three of us would not live much longer. Altruism demanded I sacrifice myself to the future. To their future. But they were so young. Could they survive without me?
Their pain…
My hunger…
Perhaps I could kill two birds with one stone, as it were.
Then came manna from above. A boat of tourists, happily chatting, cameras snapping, exploring the wilds of Antarctica.
Oh, they’ll see the wild all right. Up close and personal.
“Come children,” I said. “It’s feeding time. To the surface.”
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Oh my! Poor tourists. Chilling take.
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Excellent story! That twist at the end….
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I love the pivot on “swimming in the darkest depths of self-loathing” once the ending is revealed. Well done!
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Great. Now, randomly and for no apparent reason, I’m craving a snack.
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Chilling, love it! Especially the protective instincts of a parent: that came through with incredible clarity. 🙂
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Saved by the bell – though not the tourists! Lunch time. Great story.
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Nature, red in tooth and claw… “Their pain…
My hunger…” is such a horribly potent equation.
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The Kiran
Icy shards whip through the air, threatening to shred Alinta’s skin as she stands at the helm of the canoe. The rest of her party huddles into themselves, conserving their precious warmth. They have traveled far from their land where flames lick everything and everyone. The lifeless wasteland they are adrift in is leeching life from them. Their resources are dwindling, but Alinta knows it will not be long.
She has seen the creature’s silhouette in the inky waters that carry them. It craves nearly snuffed-out flames like her men. Their despair and waning essence call to it. Alinta refuses to sit as to not allow her own heat to concentrate itself. There is a reason that the daggers in the air do not tear her skin. She is forever ablaze. She will tame the creature and it will bring them home where they will sup on its offspring for the rest of eternity.
@UntanglingWords
Word Count: 154
Ice Element
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You’ve got fire AND ice! Fire within and ice without. You paint a vivid picture of shards whipping, a wasteland leeching, and a creature craving. I feel it.
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Thank you! I had a lot of fun writing it. Now the question hangs – do I add it to the novel idea stack…?
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Never a question. DO IT!!!!! 🙂
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This is wonderful. What an ending!
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Story is just exploding from this piece!!! the setup reminds me of an old Twilight Zone episode, “The Midnight Sun”–but you’ve twisted and expanded the end-of-the-world fire/ice concept by adding two extraordinary magical creatures. I’d love to see the battle of the fire-girl and the dark sea creature.
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Thank you! I always get so many ideas for longer pieces (short story, novella, novel, epic…) from doing flash. Many many story seeds.
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Thank you! I always got such great story seeds from participating in Flash!
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Chills and goosebumps esp. on this line: “She is forever ablaze,” which… is ironic, given the warmth… 😉
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Such a glorious image of the girl facing into the wind as the rest of the crew huddle behind her!
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Ice Cold
“But it all looks so real!”
“Well, technically, it’s all *real* glacier, in that it’s made of accumulated and compacted snow. Natural glaciers take years to form; we’ve just found a way to accelerate it.
“Is it something in the water?”
“Actually, something in the air. Instead of waiting for snow, climatologists have a developed a compound that draws water from the air and binds it to the existing ice mass’s surface, where it freezes. The compound’s applied aerially, by a helicopter.”
“Fascinating! And how often does the helicopter—“
“Mom, don’t you think you’ve asked enough questions?”
“Hey, I’m trying to make the most of my birthday present!”
“You mean you don’t like it?”
“What’s not to like? We’ve got penguins, glaciers, a balmy 25 degrees, all from the comfort of the middle of nowhere!”
“You don’t like it! I tried to do something special! This trip cost a fortune!”
“Well, I guess that makes it special then.”
Word Count: 159 words
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*ineligible*
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Intriguing stuff. I would definitely take a couple of penguins. 🙂
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A great exchange. Enjoyed this.
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ommmmmgosh the anguish of trying to find the perfect gift!!! this interaction made me laugh out loud. Love the cleverly conceived science & the hilariously painful mother/child relationship.
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Or painfully hilarious :D.
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Oh, the lengths we go to for those we love. 🙂 This made me laugh out loud. 🙂
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Lovely bit of character building through dialogue!
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Press Any Key
After decades of research and testing, it had been categorically proven that we were living in a simulation. Increasingly there had been signs that that things were going wrong. Artifacts were found, that obviously didn’t belong, They hinted that there was a way to fix everything.
Then, a breakthrough. Seismic imaging showed that hidden away at the end of the world, ensconced under thousands of tons of ice, there was a button. It was inconclusive what would happen when the button was pressed – would it reboot? Summon help? Turn off the simulation? No-one knew, but an almost unanimous agreement swept over humanity… it surely couldn’t make things worse.
And so an expedition was mounted.
Their dingy drifted closer, and the enormity of the task was almost palpable.
“There’s some sort of magic in the air, can’t you feel it?
“Bullshit. There’s stupidity in the air. And plenty in us. But let’s do this.”
@davejamesashton
Ice element
155 words
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Oh so the mystery. What next? Nice build up.
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Damn you, 160-word limit!
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I recommend bribing the organizers.
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Makes a person wonder–just how bad do things have to get before they are utterly irredeemable? a chilling thought. Love the world building and the interplay of tension between magic, hope, technology, and despair.
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I love the wider story behind this; I want to settle in with a mug of hot chocolate and the… the… where’s the REST OF THE STORY?! 😉
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The pull of the button you shouldn’t press – love the realisation of their stupidity.
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The perennial IT suggestion – Have you tried switching it off and on again? I’m sure there’d be no end of volunteers willing to give it a try!
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In the Maw of Gul-Go-Thor
Together we step off the boat, she and I. The stillness of the earth staggers me.
“This is it.”
Over us towers the mountain, that crystalline skull sculpted in snow. White. Sterile. A skeletal face, open mouth wailing across the frozen shoreline.
“This is it,” she echoes.
Reality is sharper than any photograph. I see its hollow eyes. Hear the moaning ice. Smell her perfume in the frigid air. A floral reminder of distant warmth.
Though my watch reads midnight, the cliff face shines with antarctic sunlight. My pack burdens my shoulders. My cheeks and throat burn like whiskey — but whiskey would freeze here.
“Adventure of a lifetime.”
“Scared?”
“It’s dark. What’s inside?”
She shrugs. “Who can see the future?” Then a smile. “You go first.”
Slowly, with snow under my boots and her scent in my head, I climb into the mouth of the chasm. She’s never led me astray.
Not when she was alive.
—
Word count: 156
Ice element
@pmcolt
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I really like the twist in the tail. Wasn’t expecting that. Nicely done.
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Love how this one unfolds. Great pacing! I had to read it again, this time with the twist in mind and finding the sneaky hints of what’s to come.
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I could write an essay on this–all that gorgeous foreshadowing & leading up to the twist–my favorite is being staggered by stillness, though oh my goodness the skull, the death-photograph, the memory of perfume–ooooh my gosh I just love this whole story so much.
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Good grief; you pull NO punches on the first time back in the lair. That’s ridiculously excellent! Last line, wow! This part: I can feel the cold oozing from my laptop: “My cheeks and throat burn like whiskey — but whiskey would freeze here.” The rhythmic long, short, long sentence structures made this so strong. So well done!
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Oh, killer last line!
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Oh, I was not expecting that twist! So good to go back and read it again once the ending has been revealed.
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“Wow, you’re really a dragon?”
“Yes.”
“What’s that like?”
“Dragony.”
“Those scales gotta itch.”
“I take mineral ice-baths.”
“Oh. Cool.”
“…”
“Heh heh. ‘Cool.’”
“…”
“Does the dragonfire burn your throat?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“I’m—”
“I mean, your throat’s some kind of skin, right? Not anything weird?”
“Yes. Er, no?”
“So why doesn’t the fire burn you?”
“I don’t breathe fire.”
“But you’re a dragon!”
“Yes.”
“Dragons breathe fire!”
“I’m an ice dragon.”
“So… you breathe ice?”
“No.”
“Poison?”
“No.”
“Snow cones?”
“…”
“So what do you breathe then?”
“Air.”
“Wow. Like me.”
“Speaking of you–your body is scaleless skin, I’m told.”
“Duh.”
“And that ridiculous red thing is—?”
“My coat.”
“Edible, I assume?”
“…”
“The thing you’re sitting in is—a platter?”
“A BOAT!”
“Hmm. Let’s agree to disagree.”
“I—um, thanks for the invite. I really should go.”
“It’s our first date!”
(gulp) “I’ll come back. Um. Soon. How’s Friday?”
(gulp) “Friday? Always delicious.”
159 ineligible words, ice element
@postupak
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To show you how tired I am, I thought you said, “159 illegible words.” Took me about a half-hour to figure ineligible. 🤪
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You’re probably not far afield, regardless LOL.
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When ever possible, sit in a platter. Sound advice!
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Hehe you’re so dragony. Love this banter. 🙂
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When the Host gets it on down, you have to admire it, albeit from a safe distance… 😉 Loved it!! A comedic dragon, just what we need on the comedy circuit, make those hecklers into ice-ops, they egt what they truly deserve!!!! Did Voima manicure those nails… very unusual – she was brave wasn’t she?
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Damn, I meant to say ‘ice-pops’…
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and ‘get’ – what is wrong with me??? I’m so nevruos anurod daognrs…
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Loved every ineligible word of this!
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For the record, if a dragon started spitting snow cones at me, that would be, like, the best thing ever. 😉 Unless it was spicy chocolate. In which case, that would be better.
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Loved it – especially the platter as opposed to boat! Perception is everything!
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How can every word be so perfect? Fabulous characterisation – I love that the dragon is clearly toying with the poor little morsel…
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Transitions
*Ineligible*
@deborah_the_foy
Ice
WC: 157
You shouldn’t be here. Maaoo really can’t spare you—who’ll haul the nets?? Ro isn’t strong enough. Paaoo is old! And who’ll keep Sri from abandoning the fire for dreams in her head? It took two days to wake it last time.
You haven’t practiced your transitions, and it shows. The others strip off outer skins, and let their tails lie thick, fins confident in purples and blues, some feathered, others sleek, all breath-taking. You tuck your boots under the bench.
The mouth of the bay opens, and even as the air needles your lungs, your gills quiver in mock-breathing.
At the foot of a mother glacier, the Helm slows, and the others dive deep.
You undress, transition; the sinews of your legs sew themselves into a single, gangly tail. Unlike the quiet darkness of your inlet, this place is blinding, naked, a cacophony.
“It gets easier,” the Helm says, and she sounds truthful, certain.
So, you jump.
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I love the transition!
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Beautiful transitions, I really enjoyed that…
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may I just say I LOVE the juxtaposition of air needling lungs right next to gills quivering and mock breathing. Such strong, striking images.
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Really enjoyed this. Hints at much more and lovely prose too.
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Eh. I might have missed your writing. Just a little. *Covers chills, yawns.* 😉
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So full of light and sound. Really atmospheric.
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“You tuck your boots under the bench.” is such a lovely little detail that paints a huge picture, the MC’s hesitant actions – already planning for their return to human form – contrasting beautifully with the others’ abandon.
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FROM YOUR FIRE & ICE DRAGONS: The submission window is now closed. Any stories posted after this comment are still welcome, but are not eligible to win. Thank you!
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I posted this last night within the window but for whatever reason it hasn’t showed up on site. Posting anyway, seeing as I did write…
Not Now, Any More
“It’s nothing.”
Higher pitched than Fire had heard her, he recognised the timbre. His blood froze, ice instantaneous, nails grating grooves into the chalky mortar beneath his curled fingertips.
“Sure?”
The boy’s breath caught and held.
“Sure I’m sure.” The girl’s reply was pat, barely a beat betraying her. “Why would it be?”
“Sure you’re sure, Addy?” Stepping around the corner from the brick, Fire met her dark eyes with his own, keeping them somewhat, somehow, steady. Soon, salt would fall, to flow. Still, he ignored the group gathered around her, though they were silent, watching, players played. He had shown her how to swim against the tide. Tension teased the moment, airborne back and forth, before Addy blinked, breaking their gaze.
Fire sighed. “Fair dos. Your choice, I guess.” He shook his head. “And you had one,” he added, helplessly. His head turned before he could gauge any reaction. He suspected it didn’t matter. Not now, any more, anyway.
@FallIntoFiction
160 words
Ice
Something in the air
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Just rescued it from deep in spam! apologies–when we relaunched yesterday, we were instantly bombarded by hundreds of spam comments. Regrettably, a few perfectly innocent entries appear to have gotten swept up with them. This has been corrected & the stories forwarded to the judges. Thank you for saying something!
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Loved your opening stanza!
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Thanks so much!
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Found myself holding my breath here. Well done! “Tension teased the moment, airborne back and forth, before Addy blinked, breaking their gaze.”
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So much tension in such a short story! Great to see you back as well!
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Thank you, dear Dragoness! Much appreciated. Perhaps I might offer you several chocolate drops to compliment the previous coffee in recompense?
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She threw the report on her desk. Big words printed in black “The last of Canada’s Ice Shelf breaks up” stared back into oblivion. Drops of sweat surface on her forehead even as the chill floated in the air. She knew what was coming. The others merely termed it as Climate Change.
“If only they had listened to him,” she sighed, as she flipped through the yellow pages of the diary. It was her grandfather who had discovered the cracks. It was he who had walked into those crevices. No one would believe him. His colleagues ridiculed him – A man of science promoting a myth’. He disappeared. Some said he died.
Even as a little girl she had believed him. Now as a researcher in Ice Data Center she knew this was the first step to his revenge. Her grandfather had managed to wake the fire breathing dragon.
Element: Fire
Words: 149
@vibhalohani3
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Oh yes! I like the story within the story, the diary entries, how she follows her grandfather’s path. Well-done!
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Thanks you
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Nicely done Vibha. Loved it!
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A mini-thriller here. The first step to his revenge – I want to know more!
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Lovely little tale, and so good that the girl has followed in her grandfather’s wake but doesn’t appear to have done anything to warn of what’s coming…
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This is so beautifully done. Something so visually powerful
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After a long time
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🙄Oh my comments are not reflecting beneath the actual stories
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Pingback: Flash! Friday for Aug. 14: Crackle – Brett Milam: Milam's Musings
Oh my goodness. Flash Friday is back! What an awesome surprise! I look forward to reading everyone’s entries and possibly even participating.
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Final Feast
“Here it is, travelers. The last glacier in existence”.
I looked up to see a weathered face weary with age, a huge cavern in the ice opened like a mouth in awe.
“How dare you come to watch me die?” The glacier spits ice shards and midges onto its audience, “your toxins torch my face as I crumble without dignity into the sea!”
“We now predict this will be the last season for natural icebergs such as this. Making you some of its last visitors.”
It was like having a seat at the last supper. I was destined to be in the photo, the world studying my expression before this life-giving giant wondering if I knew its fate. Wondering if I was to blame.
The first time I’d worn a coat in my entire life, such a fluffy feeling, the freeze on my face punctuated by tiny, unrelenting stings. The midges were hungry, and we were its final feast.
Word Count: 159 Words
Fire Element: Something in the air
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