Category Archives: Flash Fiction

Mermaid

It was nearly the end of summer and Melody finally got to swim in the ocean. She waded farther out letting the waves hit her stomach and chest. She was sure she was a mermaid at heart, because there was nothing that made her feel more alive than the ocean. Which was why she was out here while the rest of her friends were still asleep. Melody wasn’t going to waste a minute sleeping on their last day. After today, it would be back to her cramped dorm room, traffic jams, and annoying customers who acted like it was her fault textbook prices were so high.

She looked over the waves and wished she could stay out here forever with the salty air on her face and the water hugging her body. No more burry-eyed mornings after staying up all night to work on a paper. No more nervousness twisting in her stomach before final exams. No more student loan debt growing like a monster in the shadows slowly getting bigger until the day it would leap out and jump on her, toppling all her hopes for the future.

Melody ran her hand through the water, finding the smoothness calming. The only thing she liked about college was the choir she got a scholarship with. It only paid her tuition, leaving her to cover the outrageously over-priced textbooks and on-campus living expenses, but she would have gone to the practices if the didn’t give her a cent. Two days a week, for a preciously short two hours, her mind came alive. All the numbness from endless hours of stuffing information into her brain was washed away but the sound of voices mingling in highs and lows to create a wave of sound that carried her to wonderful place.

If it weren’t for choir, she would stay here in the ocean. Her fingers would get shrively and her muscles tired, but at least she wouldn’t be stuck in that tiny dorm room.

Melody ducked her head under the water to drown the thought of school.

“Melody.”

She must be going crazy. She couldn’t have heard someone say her name from under the water. All those late night cramming sessions must have finally gotten to her.

“Melody, open your eyes.”

For some reason, she did. Melody’s mouth nearly dropped, but she caught herself before swallowing a mouthful of water.

A girl’s face, surrounded by pink hair, was in front of hers. Not a girl. A mermaid. Her glittering pink and white scales led to hot pink fins at her tail. The mermaid spoke. “Today is your lucky day.” She clasped her hands in front of her making her look like a five-year-old on her birthday. “Today, you get to leave all your human troubles behind you. Today you become a mermaid.” She beamed.

“What? Me? I’m not a mermaid.”

“Of course not silly.” The mermaid giggled. “That’s why I have to make you one.”

“I can’t become a mermaid.” She had to go back to her classes, keep up her GPA, and spend the rest of her life in a cubicle.

“You already are becoming one.” The mermaid flashed a mischievous grin. “Otherwise your eyes would be stinging from the salt.” Melody blinked. After the shock of seeing the mermaid, she hadn’t realized her eyes didn’t sting a bit. “And if you were fully human, how are you talking?” The mermaid looked amused as Melody put a hand to her mouth. She had talked hadn’t she? In fact, she was breathing. Breathing underwater.

“You’ll have to give me permission to do the final bit though.”

“What’s that?” Melody asked.

“Your tail.”

Melody paused. Once she had a tail there was no going back.

“We sing,” the mermaid said.

“What?”

“Mermaids love to sing.” She sang the words, doing a flip through the water. It was the most graceful flip Melody had seen.

Being surrounded by an ocean and song all day? What was there to think about. “I think I’d like a turquoise tail.”

 


 Hey Epic Dreamers! I hoped you enjoyed this Disney-ish story of mermaids and dreams coming true. I mean who wouldn’t want to ditch school and play in the ocean all day? 😉
The seeds of this story were planted by a prompt from the 13 Week Streak – Summer Flash Fiction Challenge.   There’s only one more week left! I can’t believe it’s almost over. 😦

 

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Eating Bugs

Tally would never eat a bug. They were slimy, squishy, crunchy. Roaches were creepy; lurking in the shadows of her scattered toys and scurrying when a light came on.

Flies were pesky with their annoying buzzing sound. They whipped around her head then landed on her peanut butter sandwich like a rocket ship landing on the moon, claiming it as his own.

Beatles were clumsy with their heavy bodies and tipsy-turvy paths. They knocked into her like bullies shoving her out of the way in the lunch line.

Spiders were icky. They slinked and waited in their sticky webs with their crawly legs and made her skin tingle.

But ants were the worst. They weren’t like the other bugs that came alone. Ants made lines. Long lines that trailed from a crack in the window to the forgotten sucker under her bed. They scurried back and forth like one long body wriggling along her carpet. It was a skinny snake sliding beneath her bed, snatching up the Legos she’d hidden there so she wouldn’t have to put them away. If any more of them came, they could carry her away as she sat on her bed like a kidnapped princess in a litter.

The ants that had wings flew too close to her swimming pool and fell in. The water trapped them like the lint roller stuck tiny cat hairs to it. Talley would stand rigidly still as it floated by, struggling in vain to pull its wings from the water. If it touched her, all of its tiny ant anger would be unleashed to her. It would bite her for making it get caught in her pool. Then she would have a big, itchy bump on her arm.

There were the big black ants that scared her because she could see how their bodies connected like three black beads glued together, and she could see their tiny antennas moving around as if they were magic sensors that they used to find her.

Out off all the ants, it was the small red ones that were the worst. They made mounds of red dirt as traps for kids to step in. Even if she took her foot out so fast, they were still crawling all over her skin. Biting so hard that even the bravest kid cried. Tally would pull off her shoes and socks in a panic, watching them come alive with tiny crawling bodies. Her feet and legs would be covered in bites, already burning and itching and turning puffy and red.

Out off all the bugs to put in chocolate, why did it have to be an ant?

One of the boys brought chocolate-covered ants to lunch and dared everyone in the kindergarten class to eat one.

Tally stared at the tiny drop of chocolate on the table. She didn’t see an ant, but she could imagine it in the center of the chocolate, waiting for her to bit into it and release it from its prison. The moment it was loose, it would crawl around her mouth. It would bite her tongue and the inside of her cheeks. She wouldn’t be able to talk for days.

The other kids chanted her name, telling her to do eat it.

She picked it up. Once she swallowed it, the ant would scurry through her body. It would bite her lungs, and her stomach, and maybe even her brain. How would she scratch the bite when it was on the inside?

Tally closed her eyes and shoved it in her mouth. She bit down hard, hoping to kill the ant before it bit her insides.

There was no nasty crunch as the ant’s body was crushed. The ant didn’t run across her gums. There was nothing but sweet chocolate in her mouth.

Tally decided she liked eating bugs.


 Hey Epic Dreamers! This was yet another installment of the 13 Week Streak – Summer Flash Fiction Challenge.   There’s only two more weeks left! So I hope you’re enjoying these small stories, because we’re about to go back to regular posts. 😉

Sunflowers and Roses

“I wish the timing had been better,” I said. I looked at the roses he gave me. I preferred sunflowers.

“It’s not about the timing,” Sean said. “It’s about what’s right for us.” It had been a year since I’d seen him, but he still talked in that same convincing way that would have anyone ready to  believe what he said was true.

“I’m engaged,” I said. “I can’t just walk away from him.”

“Yes you can.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Why not? Tell him you can’t marry him because you love someone else.”

“I do love him.”

“You said you loved me.”

“I did. But you were never there. Nathan was.”

He looked away and ran his fingers though his hair. “What does that mean for us then?”

I gave the roses back to him. “It means we can’t be together.”

 

Eight months prior

We’d always be together. That’s what I thought. But here I was laying in a hospital bed with nothing but his rushed emails to keep me company.  You’d think he’d write more since he was a journalist. But maybe he was tired of writing after doing it all day. He was probably suffering from jet lag when he wrote them. The travel magazine he worked for kept him going from place to place. Which is why he wasn’t with me during the surgery.

It all happened so fast. The test came back positive for cancer. The operation was scheduled to remove it.

The doctors said everything went well, and here I was resting in a hospital room alone until I fully recovered and could go home.

There was a knock on the door, and in came that man from this morning, Nathan. He wasn’t as tall as Sean, but his smile made him seem 6’2. It also chased away my gloomy thoughts.

“I brought you this,” Nathan said, producing a rose from behind his back.

“Oh, you didn’t have to,” I said, but I was touched he’d come all the back here to bring me the rose. This morning he’d come in with a sunflower and a small get-well-soon card. I thought he had the wrong room, but he explained that he passed out flowers and cards to people in the hospital on the weekends. He had cancer himself when he was a teen, and ever since then would bring people in the hospital flowers. As we talked, I mentioned that my favorite flowers were roses.

“Well a favorite flower cheers a person up double the amount of just any other flower,” Nathan said, slipping the rose in the glass jar beside the sunflower.

“Does this mean you’ll be taking the sunflower somewhere else?” I joked. I was smiling for the first time since he left this morning.

“I guess since you’re so pretty, you can have both.” He winked.

I blushed, but enjoyed the compliment. For the first time since Sean left, I didn’t feel alone. I looked at the two flowers setting beside each other in the jar. I was surprised to find myself liking the sunflower more. Maybe my favorites were changing.

 

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 Hey Epic Dreamers! This was yet another installment of the 13 Week Streak – Summer Flash Fiction Challenge.     I hope you’re enjoying these small stories.

The Tooth Fairy’s Warning

The best part about going to the grocery store with Mommy was that I got a gumball when Mommy was finished shopping. I pushed my tongue against my loose tooth, wiggling as I waited in line beside Mommy. When it came out, I’d put it under my pillow and get a whole dollar from the Tooth Fairy. I could buy four gumballs with that.

“Can I get my gumball now?” I asked. This line was so long and boring. Blowing bubbles would make waiting more fun.

Mommy gave me a quarter and I ran to the gumball machine by the door, ponytail swishing. I looked into the glass orb that held brightly colored gumballs. I hoped I got a red one. Those were my favorite. I inserted the quarter and twisted the handle.

Something clattered from the glass orb and into the slot, but it didn’t sound like the clunking sound of a gumball. It was a tiny clinking sound.

I lifted the flap and put my hand in. My fingers wrapped around something small and hard with sharp angles. It definitely wasn’t a smooth round gumball. I turned my hand around and in my palm lay a tooth.

How did a tooth get in in with the gumballs? It was ugly. All yellow.

I opened the slot and stuck my hand in it again. I wanted a gumball, not a tooth. But there wasn’t anything in there.

I was about to run back to mommy and ask her for another quarter when something sizzled in the air in front of my face.

A tiny person with wings hovered in the air between me and the gumball machine. She was wearing a sparkly pink dress like the one I wore for Halloween, and she had silver wings. Her hair was in bouncy curls that made me want to pull one down just to watch it spring back up.

I was staring so hard my eyes hurt. She was a real live fairy!

“What are you doing?” the tiny fairy asked. Her voice was so small. She was like a talking doll. I wanted to hold her. “Do you want your teeth to look like that one?” She pointed at the yellow tooth in my hand with the wand she held. It had a glossy white tooth on the end of it. My eyes got even bigger. This wasn’t just any fairy. This was the Tooth Fairy. “If you keep eating candy like this, you’ll end up cavities, plaque, rotting teeth. And who do you think has to deal with your nasty teeth once you lose them?”

“You?” I asked.

“Yes me.” The Tooth Fairy gave a shake of her head, making her curls look like springs. “And I can’t use rotting teeth. Consider this a warning, little girl. If you ruin your teeth, you won’t be getting any money from me when you put them under your pillow.” Then she crossed her arms and disappeared.

I blinked, but it was just the gumball machine in front of me. It looked a little scary. Like all of the brightly colored balls were going to spill out and get into my mouth and make my teeth look yellow and nasty like the one in my hand.

I ran back to Mommy.

“Didn’t you get a gumball?” she asked.

I wiggled my tooth with my tongue. “I don’t want any this time.”

The Trip

Mark was glad his uncle only lived a quarter of a mile down the road. It was hard to steal a car when you didn’t have a car to get you there in the first place. Well, he wasn’t really stealing it, just borrowing it for the weekend. His uncle wouldn’t even know it was gone anyway. It was a one of those classic cars that people collect, but don’t drive.

Mark walked down the long dirt driveway, typical of small towns in the south, and hoped the coyotes he heard last night had moved on. He swallowed and reminded himself why he was here.

Shannon. The most gorgeous girl in his high school. She’d moved from Manhattan in the middle of the school year, and Mark instantly fell in love. Flawless skin, smooth dark hair, cherry red lipstick, and a fashion sense the bumpkins around her could only dream of: she was like a girl out of a TV show.

Unfortunately, Shannon didn’t seem to think as highly of him as he did of her. She pretty much ignored him for most of the school year. But all that changed when she told him she’d go out with anyone in this town who was romantic enough to take her on a surprise beach getaway for a weekend. Well, she hadn’t really told him. He was one of the many people that sat at Shannon’s lunch table to listen to her cute northern accent and fawning over her worldly knowledge, but  he was the only one who actually planned a beach trip for the weekend.

He told her about it at school that morning, palms wet, insides quivering. When she said she’d go with him, it was all he could do not to jump up and down. He told her he’d pick her up tonight. The only problem was, even though he was 16, he didn’t have a car. His parents wanted him to save up and buy it himself.

So here he was, sneaking to the shed where his uncle kept the teal 1969 Lincoln Continental.

He was almost to the shed when a burst of music came from his pocked. He fumbled to turn it off as the dogs barked. It was Shannon.  She was probably wondering why he wasn’t there to pick her up yet. I’m coming, baby, I promise. Mark hit the end call button to end the noise. Sorry.

Mark looked up from the phone to find a bulky shadow racing toward him. His panicked mind told him it was a coyote, but the shape was all wrong. And it was squawking.

It wasn’t until the thing was biting Mark’s leg with its beak that he realized it was a turkey. When did his uncle get a turkey?

Mark jumped into the shed and shut the door before the turkey followed. Mark rubbed his sore leg and told himself it would all be worth it once he had Shannon in the car beside him. He made a playlist of romantic oldies for them to listen to on his IPod, and with all the hours he’d have her alone in the car, he was sure he’d work up the courage to tell her how he felt.

He grabbed the key from its hiding place in the gas tank and cranked the car. Mission successful!

Mark imagined Shannon sitting next to him the whole way to her house. When he pulled into her driveway, he was surprised to see two girls standing beside Shannon on her porch. They both had suitcases in their hand.

“I can’t wait to feel the sand between my toes,” Shannon said, handing Mark her suitcase.

“Me too!” her friends squealed.

“Uh, Shannon,” Mark said, struggling with the large suitcase. “I thought it was just going to be me and you.”

“Of course not silly.” Shannon flounced to the car. “How boring would that be?” She settled herself in the back seat and her friends sat on either side of her.

Mark spent the drive listening to Katy Perry and staring at the empty passenger seat beside him.

 

 

Hotdog vs. Stomach

Millie tried to ignore her churning stomach as she counted the people in front of her in the port-a-potty line. She was the eleventh person in line. Her stomach sent her a sharp pang as if telling her it wouldn’t be able to wait that long. Well you’re going to have to wait.

Her gut gave a low rumble as if reminding her that she’d been the one to feed it that hotdog from the food truck. How was I supposed to know I’d get food poisoning? What was in the thing anyway? Something similar to an atomic bomb by the way her stomach felt.

It gurgled again and the little girl in front of Millie turned around to stare at her. Millie smiled, but the girl turn around quickly as if looking at her for too long might give her a gurgling stomach too.

The person currently using the port-a-potty came out and Millie silently cheered as she became the tenth person in line. Hold on little stomach, we can do this. Her stomach didn’t seem convinced. It twisted and turned. Millie was sure she had a wriggling snake in her gut. She resisted the urge to double over and groan. How much pain could one bad hotdog cause?

She looked at the port-a-potty door hopefully, but no one came out. Come on. You should be done by now. Think of all the people writhing in pain behind you. Well, it was just Millie writhing in pain. The rest of the line seemed perfectly at easy. Their patient faces and easy stances annoyed Millie.

Why doesn’t someone knock on the door? They’ve been hogging the bathroom for long enough. Maybe they ate a hotdog.

Millie curled her toes and vowed never to eat from a food truck again. Her stomach gave a loud gurgle and the little girl whipped her head around so fast that her pigtails slapped the side of her head. After giving Millie a wide-eyed stare, she looked up at her mother.

“Why does that lady have a noisy stomach?” she asked. Her mother shushed her, and Millie wished she could melt into the grass. She tried to ease her embarrassment by reminding herself that she was the last in line. At least there would be no one waiting outside the door to hear the embarrassing noises that were sure to ensue the moment she got in the porta potty.

The line finally began to move again and Millie spent the rest of the wait clenching her butt cheeks so hard that she was sure she’d have buns of steel by the time this was over with.

She was almost giddy when it came time for the girl and her mom to go. Just one more person. We can do this stomach.

“I don’t want to go in,” the little girl said, lower lip jutting out.

“Are you sure you don’t want to at least try?” her mother asked. The girl shook her head.

Millie put a hand over her stomach and shifted from foot to foot. Just get in the dang port-a-potty!

“Alright, but I don’t want to hear that you have to go five minutes later.” The mother went in and left the girl to stare at Millie while she waited.

Just as Millie thought her stomach would explode from pain, the mother came out. Millie moved faster than she had to get the last big screen TV in a Black Friday sale.

What happened after she closed the door, she preferred to blot out of her memory.

Feeling like she’d been rescued from drowning, she unlocked the door, thinking again how lucky she was that no one was in line behind her.

The smile melted off her face as the door swung open. In front of her stood the very wide-eyed girl in pigtails.

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Well….that was quite a gross story. 😛 I blame it on the 13 Week Streak – Summer Flash Fiction Challenge. Hopefully next week will contain less port-a-potties and contaminated hotdogs. 😀

 

Fairies

Sammie was just about to tell her friend that there was no such thing as fairies when the path split.

“The path doesn’t split on the map,” she said, holding the map the camp leader gave her when they first arrived. The path on the map went straight to the lake–a real lake, not the small one back at the campsite with a hundred kids splashing around–but the path they were on split with the main path continuing straight and a spindly trail winding off from it.

“We should go back,” Karen said, twisting the handles of the fishing poles thrown over her shoulder.

“We’ll never catch any fish with all those noisy kids scaring them away,” Sammie said. She looked from the map to the mysterious pathway that wasn’t supposed to be there. “I wonder where it goes.” She folded the map and started towards the little trail.

“We can’t go that way,” Karen said. “It isn’t on the map.”

“Then we’ll find out where it goes and put it on the map.” The other campers would be impressed that Sammie had discovered something new. Maybe they’d even name the trail after her. Besides, it probably led to a great fishing spot.

Karen didn’t move.

“Scared there will be fairies?” Sammie teased.

Karen caught up to her and whispered, “Don’t talk about them. They might hear you.”

Sammie rolled her eyes. Karen thought fairies were vicious, tiny winged people who lived in the woods.

“Ouch!” Karen rubbed her arm, nearly dropping the fishing poles. “The fairies are throwing acorns at me.”

“It’s just a squirrel,” Sammie said just as something pinged her head. She glared at the trees, but didn’t find any squirrels to scold.

Karen wanted to turn back, but Karen was always a scaredy-cat, so Sammie didn’t listen.

“You two are going to get in big trouble for this.” It was their camp leader. Sammie and Karen whorled around, expecting to see her standing behind them, frowning at them for sneaking off. But no one was there.

“It’s the fairies,” Karen said. “They can mimic other’s voices.”

Sammie’s arm crawled with goose bumps, but she didn’t believe in fairies. And she didn’t want to give up that fishing hole.

As they kept walking, a strange melodious sound crept into the air. It was somewhere between the trill of a bird and the voice of a mother singing to her child.

“It’s the fairies!” Karen didn’t try to keep the panic out of her voice. “They can sing you to sleep. We’ll be asleep for hours out here. We can’t be in the woods after dark.”

Sammie put her hands over her ears and ran up the trail.

Then she was looking at the most perfect fishing spot. The sparkling water was framed by waving tree leaves, and an ancient log sprawled on bright grass as if nature created a place to sit just for her. Butterflies dotted the area like festive decorations.

“I told you there weren’t fairies.” Sammie turned, but Karen wasn’t there. A butterfly fluttered in front of Sammie’s eyes. It had a tiny face and arms. It wasn’t a butterfly. It was a fairy. There were a hundred of them around the fishing spot.

Karen always said if you find a fairy’s den, the fairies make sure you can’t go back and tell anyone about it.

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 Hey Epic Dreamers! I hope you enjoyed my second flash fiction piece based on the prompt given in this week’s 13 Week Streak – Summer Flash Fiction Challenge.   If you like to write but are feeling a bit stuck on ideas, this is a great way get started. Not to mention it’s tons of fun!

 

Wizards and Whales

Hey Epic Dreamers! This is the first of many flash fiction post from the 13 Week Streak – Summer Flash Fiction Challenge.  Hope you enjoy the fun just as much as I am. 🙂

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Out of all the people in Story Land that Sherlock Holmes had to interrogate, why did it have to be these six? This was supposed to be a place where book characters could get away from the stressful lives the author gods penned for them, but these six never seemed to realize that. They were always getting into trouble.

He scanned the group, lined up on one of the dock’s benches. His eyes settled on the blond young man. His knee was bouncing, and he kept looking guiltily at his girlfriend sitting beside him. “Peeta, this morning, the six of you set out on a boat with Captain Ahab the whaler. What was the purpose of the trip?”

“It was a whale watching tour,” Peeta said, glancing at his girlfriend, Katniss.

Sherlock looked to Katniss, bow resting across her lap. “Do you see any whales?”

“When the first one was spotted, the Captain started calling it Moby Dick and told us to help him kill it.” Katniss adjusted the collar of her shirt as she was speaking. Sherlock saw a flash of blue skin, freshly bruised.

“And did you help kill it?” Sherlock asked the boy with glasses and a lightning scar on his forehead who was sitting up very straight. Almost as if he had a stick shoved up his back.

“We didn’t want to.” Harry said, stiffly. “It may not be as great as a magical creature, but we didn’t want to kill it.”

“The captain was very rude,” said the girl sitting next to him, Hermione. The frizzy brown hair that stuck out around her head didn’t even move, she was being so still as she talked. “He started acting like we were his crew, ordering us about. We don’t even have our wands anyway, so how could we help?”

“So none of you helped him kill the whale?” Sherlock asked the man with a grey beard spilling down his grey robe.

“Of course not,” the man, Gandalf, huffed. “I must save my power for fighting the creatures in Middle Earth. Besides, I wouldn’t want to risk him getting hurt.” Gandalf glanced at the small person beside him. “I need him for a very important mission.”

“Then what happened to Captain Ahab?” Sherlock asked the last member of the group. He was small, as all hobbits were, and dripping wet.

“He attempted to stab the whale,” said Frodo. “But got tangle in his harpoon line and was hurled to his death.”

“Now that you’ve had your say,” Sherlock said, clasping his hands behind his back. “Let me tell you what actually happened. By the guilty way that Peeta keeps glancing at Katniss, I know he had a laps and thought he was back in the Hunger Games. Probably induced by the excitement Captain Ahab caused over the whale. He grabbed a harpoon to throw at the whale, but Katniss shot it, hoping he’d drop it.”

“You can’t prove that,” Katniss said.

“I had a look at the boat a few minutes ago,” Sherlock said. “One of the harpoons is missing. It was thrown overboard so I wouldn’t see the hole the arrow made.” Sherlock paused. When Katniss didn’t argue, he went on. “Peeta did drop it as Katniss hoped, but because he still thought he was in the Hunger Games and thought Katniss was trying to kill him, he tried to strangle her.” Sherlock looked at Katniss. “You can put your collar down now.”

She glared at him as she revealed the bruises.

“Then Harry and Hermione both shot a spell at Peeta to immobilize him. One of them missed and hit Frodo, knocking him overboard. Since he is the only one wet, either Harry or Hermione used their ‘leviosa’ spell and brought him back. Gandalf got angry at them for knocking Frodo in the water, because he needed him for ‘a very important mission.’ And then the wizard’s duel began.”

“We weren’t dueling,” Harry said, still sitting like his back would break if he moved. “We didn’t bring our wands with us.”

“Didn’t you?” Sherlock raised a brow. “Then what is it you have shoved in the back of your belt?”

Harry and Hermione looked at each other.

“Are you going to pull them out or do I have to get them?” Sherlock asked.

They sheepishly lifted the back of their shirts and pulled their wants from where they rested against their backs.

Sherlock continued. “Harry, Hermione and Gandalf began to dual, but as they did, someone accidentally hit Captain Ahab with a bit of magic and knocked him overboard. None of you know exactly who did it, or you would have pointed the guilty person out right away instead of agreeing to tell the story you just told me.”

He took a moment to enjoy the shock on their faces. Well Gandalf was impassively smoking his pipe. But he did enjoy the shock on the rest of their faces.

“We didn’t kill him,” Hermione said.

“Of course not,” Sherlock agreed. “Because he isn’t dead.”

That earned him another round of shocked looks.

“He’s still in the belly of the whale.”

“But it ate him,” said Harry. “There’s no way he survived that.” Hermione nudged him. “What? He figured it out anyway.”

“It was the whale from the story of Jonah and the whale,” Sherlock said. “Captain Ahab will turn up on an island somewhere, stinking of fish, in about three days.”

“The story of what?” asked Frodo.

“I’ll explain that to you later,” Hermione said before turning to Sherlock. “How do you know it was that whale?”

“Because if Captain Ahab simply fell in the water, then one of you would have pulled him out the same way you pulled Frodo out. And since whales don’t generally eat people, it must be Jonah’s whale. This isn’t the first incident where he’s swallowed someone.”

“So, we’re free to go right?” Peeta asked.

“Everyone but the three wizards,” Sherlock said.

“I’m a witch,” Hermione huffed.

“But we didn’t make the whale eat him,” Harry said.

“You didn’t,” Sherlock said. “But wizard duals are illegal in Story Land, so you’ll have to be arrested for that.”

Gandalf began muttering to his hand. Of course, Sherlock noticed the small moth in the center of his palm.

“Stop that!” Sherlock said.

It was too late. A giant eagle swooped down and carried all six of them away, over the sparkling blue water.

Why did the author gods have to give Gandalf the ability to do that?

 

Her Eyes

Her eyes are like the Ocean.

When I first look at them, they’re like the sun reflecting off a deep ocean. Beautiful, wanting to draw me out from the shallow beach front. So I travel deeper into the ocean, finding it’s more than just waves crashing in the wind and flowing in the current. I discover the life inside the ocean, so colorful and unique, creating a feeling inside me that I can’t describe.

I never want to leave, but feeling the need to wander deeper into the ocean, I discover a priceless treasure. This treasure keeps me warm when I am cold and gives me strength when I am weak. I could never sell this treasure I found.

I then explore the ocean again, seeing every detail I missed when I first came from the surface. Everything has so much more value and depth than before. I try to take it all in, but the ocean is so big and its inhabitants so many. There is so much to explore, it will take the rest of my life to find all of its beauty. As I come up out of the ocean, I’m breathless. All I can do is stay afloat, trying not to drown in this amazing world. All I could ever dream of is living in this place. So sweet. Beautiful. And breathtaking.

So I take a chance and dive deeper every time I can.

–Anonymous

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So far all the posts on this blog have been mine, but the poetic bit of words above are from a friend who graciously allowed me to nab them and share them with all of you. 🙂

And, quick change of subject…if you haven’t put in your vote for what our name should be at Invisible World, you’ll want to check out Monday’s post.

 

Twitter_bird_iconThis little blue bird will take you to my Twitter page where it will continuously feed you random lines about writing, blogging, and the world inside my head.

Sacrifice

I was disappointed to find that I was still alive. It meant I hadn’t carried out my mission.  The symbols tattooed up and down my arms ensured that my heart would keep beating until I had. I was leaning against one of the cement walls that enclosed me, being careful not to move my head which still throbbed from where the gun hit.  My hands were cuffed in front of me, I had no idea where I was, or how long I’d been there, but it didn’t matter.  What I did know was that I would kill Janice the people’s “benevolent” leader.

She had to be stopped. She may have cleaned our streets and feed us, but the price for these things was higher than we were willing to pay.  We didn’t want clean streets if it meant we couldn’t be on them after a certain time.  We wanted to work for our own food, not be given a set amount each month.  We wanted the freedom to teach our children what we wanted, not send them to be brainwashed by the government’s ideas.  No one wanted them to grow up thinking that humanity needs a dictator to tell them when they should be in their homes at night or to ration their food like they were cattle.

The door to the tiny prison cell opened and the guard that came through roughly pulled me to my feet. He led me down hallways lit by flickering florescent lights, then we went through a set of doors that lead outside.  Hot afternoon sunlight hit my face.  I must have been the cell for at least a day.  The speech that I was going to assassinate her at was over.  But that was the least of my worries.

In front of me was a platform with a noose.

With each boot that hit the steps leading to the noose my belief that I would complete my mission waned. When I reached the top, an announcer   began droning my offences: attending unauthorized meetings held by groups not recognized by the government, owning a weapon, and plotting to assassinate the leader.   I scarcely heard him.  The noose hanging two feet away seemed to turn off my hearing.   I couldn’t die yet.   The old woman had foreseen it.  My death would only come after my mission was over.

My eyes shifted from the noose to the crowd. I stopped myself from smiling.  A very important person had decided to attend my execution: our leader herself.   She sat looking very poised and in control in her cream suit coat and black dress pants.

In an instant, I rammed my elbow as hard as I could into my guard’s stomach, took the pistol out of his belt, and shot him. I thanked my lucky stars—or maybe it was the tattoos—that they were stupid enough to handcuff my hands in front.  I didn’t hear the people’s screams or see their panicked faces.  All I saw was a cream suit coat.  I pulled the trigger.

As I watched the bullet enter her forehead, a blast of pain erupted in my own. I knew, this time, I wouldn’t wake up.

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In honor Flash Fiction Day, I’ll be posting flash fiction throughout the day. Be ready to read. There’s more to come!

Here’s the other stories I’ve posted today. Letters, Shattered , Loki’s Interview , MansionsThe Chalice,

The Chalice

“You have ten seconds before your world ends,” I told the man at the end of my sword.

“How generous of you.” The man gave a crooked smile. “I took you for the sort of person to kill immediately.  What are the ten seconds for? To say my prayers?”

“Don’t be funny,” I snapped, “Tell me where you hid it.”

“Hid what?” He arched an eyebrow.

“The chalice,” I snarled, “I know you have it.”

“Search me.” He held out his hands.

“I’m not wasting my time. You wouldn’t keep it on you.  You’re not that much of an imbecile.”

“I don’t know,” said the man in mock consideration, “maybe you’ve overestimated my intelligence.”

“Enough!” I pressed the tip of my sword to his chest.  “All I want is the chalice.  I’ll spare your life if you tell me where it is.”

“Spare my life and put me in chains. I think I’d rather die than spend my life in the castle dungeon.”

“I think I can manage that request,” I said with a stiff smile. “After you tell me where the chalice is.”

“And what are you going to do with it?”

“Return it to the King.” I looked him in his eyes and said coolly, “I know where my loyalty lies.”

“Too bad it’s in the wrong place.”

With one quick movement, I made a gash in his arm and brought the sword back to his chest. It wasn’t a deep wound, just enough to let him know I meant business. He hissed in surprise.

“Do not insult the King,” I told him icily. He glared at me through the unruly brown hair that hung in his face.

“You say you know where your loyalty lies,” he said all cockiness gone from his voice. His words were low and deliberate. “Well I do too. And it isn’t with the King. It’s with the people.”

“You’ve chosen foolishly.”

“Foolishly?” His dark eyes flashed. “It isn’t foolish care about those who are not in a position of power. To care about those who are not kings but paupers. The chalice should be shared with the rest of the land.”

“And you thought stealing it was the best way to do that?” I let out a breath in disgust. “However noble your intentions, it is still the King’s. He can use it in whatever way he chooses.”

“He uses it for his own gain. The chalice has the power to feed those who are starving—it could save lives—but all the King can use it for is his own luxury. He keeps it locked up so it can increase his wealth while people die!”

“I will not hear anymore about the King,” I said thought clenched teeth. “It is not up to us to judge what he does with his own possessions.”  The man pursed his lips as if forcing his words in.  I continued, “You can either take me to the chalice now, or I can take you to the dungeon and they’ll make you tell.”

There was silence for a moment then the man spoke. “I’ll show you.”

I held the sword to his back as he led me through the forest. He stopped a few feet away from a hollowed out log.

“It’s in there,” he said, looking dejected. I could almost feel sorry for him, but a thief was a thief no matter their reason.

I walked toward the log.

Suddenly, I was pulled from my feet. I dropped my sword. A rope around my ankle suspend me in the air from a tree.

The man gave me a grin and put his hand into his jacket. “It seems I’ve had it with me the whole time,” he said, pulling out the chalice in mock surprise.

I watched his upside-down form walk away with the power to transform a kingdom.

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In honor Flash Fiction Day, I’ll be posting flash fiction throughout the day. Be ready to read. There’s more to come!

Here’s the other stories I’ve posted today. Letters, Shattered , MansionsLoki’s Interview , Sacrifice

The Wand in the Attic

I was hiding from my bratty stepsister in the attic when I found it. At first I thought it was just a strange stick—as long as a ruler and as thick as a pencil—then I found the book Beginner’s Guide for Wand Use. I flipped through the many spells listed on the pages, thinking the book was a joke. Then I tried one.

I held it out and said “on” as the first page instructed. I jumped when the wand gave a slight tremor. I was sure that I’d imagined it, but just in case…. I pointed it at the first thing I saw—a wooden music box that no longer worked—and said “muveras” which is what the book said to say if you wanted something to move.

The wooden box shot off the crate it was sitting on and crashed to the floor. I jumped and drop the wand. I looked from the box to the wand at my feet, to the box again. I wasn’t sure if I was excited or scared. Magic only existed in fairytales. How was it in my attic?

“Sarah! Quit leaving your dirty clothes in the bathroom!” It was my stepsister. She was twelve like me, but because she was five months older she seemed to think she was my second mom or something. That’s why I was looking through old boxes in the attic instead of watching TV downstairs. With mom gone on a date with my stepdad, she was more whiny than usual.

“Hello? Sarah? I’m talking to you. Come clean up your stinky clothes.”

I rolled my eyes and started to climb down the attic ladder.

Then I had an idea.

I snatched the wand and hurried downstairs. My stepsister was standing beside the bathroom doorway with her arms crossed. She was still yelling for me, so she didn’t hear me coming. I ducked behind a table with a huge decorative vase and scooted so I could look into the bathroom.

She wanted me to move my clothes? I would move my clothes.

I pointed my wand at the pile on the floor and whispered, “muveras.” The clothes shot through the bathroom door like a cannonball from a cannon, and exploded into the hallway. My step sister shrieked so loud you would have thought it was an actual cannon.

She stood, frozen for a moment with my tank top over her left shoulder and my underwear on her head. I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing. Maybe staying home with my stepsister would be so bad after all.

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This was my day 4 assignment for Writing 101 and Blogging 101.  I love when I can do two things at once!  🙂  (Got to make those drill sergeants happy)