VERY SHORT STORY COMPETITION FAILURE (14)

Another failed entry to the "Flash Fiction" thing. The rules are very simple; The "story" has to be less than 150 words and feature a particular prompt word (which is the one in brackets). This is another one that failed to even make the cut. The paranoiac in me might suspect "cliqueism" so fukkem… here it is despite them:

MORNING (Scramble)

He walks into the room, eyes heavy with the weariness that comes from failing to get enough sleep.

A tear erupts and slowly trickles from his left eye, itching down his face until he brushes it away with a slight movement from a finger on its way to rub some life back into his senses and bludgeon the day into being.

He moves towards the window, his mind reaching out to seek whatever noise it was that woke him. He takes a step, and another, and then he stops again, his forehead furrowing into a deep frown sculpted by the shadows of this half-light.

"There was something… Some reason…" a faraway voice seems to whisper to him.

It's his own voice, and would still seem familiar if his ageing brain hadn't begun to scramble every memory and make him lose track of the person he used to think he was.

VERY SHORT STORY COMPETITION FAILURE (13)

Another failed entry to the "Flash Fiction" thing. The rules are very simple; The "story" has to be less than 150 words and feature a particular prompt word (which is the one in brackets).

LEFT A BIT (bolt)

Grandmother was getting twitchy.

Sunday afternoons were always difficult, especially when the family came to visit. There were vegetables to prepare, pressure cookers to set, and the ungrateful stare of her grandson to deal with when, once again he decided that he "didn't like" whatever it was she'd prepared.

Still, another "family lunch" had been survived, and, as we all settled down to watch grandma's favourite programme, we noticed that she'd mysteriously vanished without saying a word.

"Hello" said Bob "Who's calling "The Golden Shot"…?"

Grandmother's familiar voice crackled down the line and through the television, and, as the familiar banter was exchanged we looked at each other in dumb amazement before Dad suddenly realised that the TV company had no idea that she couldn't see the television from where the telephone lived in the hallway, as, on the television, Bob ominously intoned…

"Bernie... The bolt…!"

VERY SHORT STORY COMPETITION FAILURE (12)

Another failed entry to the "Flash Fiction" thing. The rules are very simple; The "story" has to be less than 150 words and feature a particular prompt word (which is the one in brackets).

WIRED (balance)

The wire stretched away from him on both sides.

He wobbled slightly as the sudden breeze caught him and shifted his centre of gravity.

From all directions he heard the oohs and aahs of the crowds that had come to stare, and the cheers and applause as he  moved to the left, to the right and left again several times in order to regain his control.

Then a voice drifted through the crisp, clear morning.

"You're useless… you always were… and I can see right up inside your stupid shirt where the harness is!"

He turned, furiously, and far too fast, wanting to shout a reply...

As he fell, all he could hear were those words that he had heard so often when he was a young boy.

"What you need in this game, son" his father had always reminded him "is a good sense of balance…"

VERY SHORT STORY COMPETITION FAILURE (11)

Another failed entry to the "Flash Fiction" thing. The rules are very simple; The "story" has to be less than 150 words and feature a particular prompt word (which is the one in brackets).

WIDESCREEN (crop)

For his entire life, he'd been drawn outside towards the wide-open vistas and most spectacular scenery that the world had to offer.

Using up the latest, most hi-tech and surprisingly costly, he'd carved a career from creating the most extraordinary images that he could, carefully honed from the very best offerings that nature had presented to his range of immaculately maintained lenses.

He drummed his fingers, glancing at the gap-toothed mantelpiece which was already awaiting the next award.

The phone still hadn't rung.

Surely the committee would have made up their minds by now?

Surely...

When the police broke into his studio, they were astonished to find the torn prints and smashed frames and the note scribbled on the front cover of the magazine.

"When the world is so beautiful" it said "why would you want to crop it and park your gurning, idiotic  face in front of it?"

VERY SHORT STORY COMPETITION FAILURE (10)

Another failed entry to the "Flash Fiction" thing. The rules are very simple; The "story" has to be less than 150 words and feature a particular prompt word (which is the one in brackets).

EXTREMES (trough)

Lightning flashing, burning elation, ideas were suddenly pouring from his mind like light from an exploding sun.

He stopped, just for a second to remember those months that he’d spent in the trough of despair, taking the time to remind himself that it really wasn’t always like this, not always so simple.

And into that moment, creeping into the small spaces between his hopes and dreams, those dark corners that screamed at him throughout the days and nights that he was unworthy, came the change, the doubt, the wondering, and, as quickly as he had risen, he fell again.

But he’d had one brief moment of success, and if that was what came to define him, then it would have to do.

VERY SHORT STORY COMPETITION FAILURE (9)

Another failed entry to the "Flash Fiction" thing. The rules are very simple; The "story" has to be less than 150 words and feature a particular prompt word (which is the one in brackets).

THE TURN THAT WORMED (core)

Life's just great when you're a young worm and your entire world is a great big ball of tasty white goodness sealed inside a tight, green skin to protect you from the universe beyond.

You can skitter around, eating all day, without a care in that very world that you're slowly consuming.

Then, one day, without warning, your resources all run out and you've got to pack your bags and move out and find another world to devour.

However, you know, it may be red, it might be yellow, or simply yet another lush green world, but you can head out sure in the knowledge that your future is serenely secure.

Unless the choppers come.

Then, your shiny new world can quickly get cut down to the core and tossed away with about as much thought as any human gives to the little things they share their world with.

VERY SHORT STORY COMPETITION FAILURE (8)

Another failed entry to the "Flash Fiction" thing. The rules are very simple; The "story" has to be less than 150 words and feature a particular prompt word (which is the one in brackets).

IN THE BELLY (steam)

Sweat glistened on every exposed inch of skin as the men frantically shoveled coal into the ever-hungry boilers. Deep in the bowels of the mighty liner, few words were ever exchanged, the ear-smashing thumping of the engines saw to that, but a look or two exchanged could speak volumes.

They all knew that the head of steam being demanded from the bridge would probably mean that the Blue Riband would be theirs for the taking, but the risks were enormous, and everyone this far down knew that not one of them had much change of survival.

So, when the crunch did come, and threw them all off their feet, it was still so unexpected that many of them forgot what the escape  ladders were for.

VERY SHORT STORY COMPETITION FAILURE (7)

Another failed entry to the "Flash Fiction" thing. The rules are very simple; The "story" has to be less than 150 words and feature a particular prompt word (which is the one in brackets).

SLAMMERS (skip)

We arrive back at the house at about 11:30, just after closing time, and the few minutes it takes to get to her door.

[SKIP]

The party is in full swing. Somehow they've all managed to make it yet I'm sure the place was almost empty when I…

[SKIP]

Ah! There's tequila! I like tequila! Someone, I think it's our hostess suggest that I might want to demonstrate how to do slammers, so I grab the glass, the salt and the lime…

[SKIP]

Someone else has turned up… Would I like to show them how to do it, too…?

Glass, salt, lime…

[SKIP]

Another group… "Would I…?"

[SKIP]

Oh no! Now SHE'S turned up, and, what's worse, she's brought that idiot along with her…

I reach for the bottle…

[SKIP]

[SKIP]

[SKIP]...

VERY SHORT STORY COMPETITION FAILURE (6)

Another failed entry to the "Flash Fiction" thing. The rules are very simple; The "story" has to be less than 150 words and feature a particular prompt word (which is the one in brackets).

GETTING THE BIRD (glove)

She slipped on the thin glove and tickled the bird just below the nape of its neck.

It responded by flapping its wings and stretching its neck in obvious joy.

“It’s a bit of a shame that I can’t actually touch her” said Cheryl, softly, “but she’s not quite got used to this environment yet, and with all of the effort that it took to get her here, it would be just awful if anything should happen to her.”

I looked at her in astonishment.

The bird was there, right in front of me, and undeniably real.

However, Cheryl did not seem to comprehend that anyone might find it slightly unusual that the first thing she did after going to all the trouble of building herself a time machine was to go and fetch herself a pet Dodo.