Flash Fiction – Flash Frenzy Round

Rose lineup Flash Fiction

There was a new twist for Flash! Friday called “The Flash Dash!”  posted a few weeks back I had the opportunity to participate in.  I had a blast with this one.

She posted the prompt:

Start the story with the words:  “He shouldn’t have sounded the gong”

at exactly 10am EST.  Everyone had 30 MINUTES (!!!!!) to post their creations of anything up to 500 words.

Let me say that again:  THIRTY.  FREAKING.  MINUTES.

I’ve gotten used to the tight timelines on normal flash challenges – you have a day to come up with your best work.  I usually have to work work in to this equation, as well as sleep, work prep, eating, commute – all the stuff that happens on a day to day basis.  But this – 30.  FREAKING.  MINUTES.

Talk about pressure…but the good kind.  The kind that gets you hyper-focused on what you’re doing, and how you’re doing it, and exactly WHAT you are putting together for story details.

Long story short – I read the first sentence.  Cursed it.  Howled at it, much like the sound howls across the bowl of the gong.  Then I got into it – and put this out with 2 minutes to spare.


To Witness

155 words

He shouldn’t have sounded the gong, but the great disc of beaten copper had other plans. It needed to sound. Needed to ring. Needed to spread its message far and wide.

Needed to release the entity painstakingly trapped within the myriad reflections chasing each other across the bell’s etched bowl.

It had picked the slight man out of the teeming crowd of curious onlookers, each salivating at the chance to glimpse this freshly-unearthed artifact rumored to date from before the earliest of Antiquity’s greatest civilizations. Captured his will with a single flash of redirected sunshine. Drew him through the crowd like a lodestone.

The man struck the copper disc in a flurry of speed, using his head as the mallet, and the gong sounded. Vibrations not heard since before the dawn of civilization rang out amongst the crowd, who were unfortunate enough to witness the release of the last remaining Old God.



Flash Fiction – Let’s Make a Deal

Rose lineup Flash Fiction

Here’s the thing – you have to be in your right mind to create words, sentences, and paragraphs that flow into an orgy of sights, sounds, smells and sensations – but if you’re in your right mind, those ideas are suppressed by numbers, and business-proper vernacular, and PC-friendly discourse.

In other words – you don’t have to be crazy to write good fiction – but you might as well be.

Flash Friday’s challenge on the 1st of May was a Catch-22 – with a REAL creepy picture for a prompt.  Given the darkness inherent in the shot – was it any surprise that my submission turned out demonic?


Let’s Make a Deal

203 words

“Do you want to play a game?”

The child is small, cherubic – rosy cheeks and curly blonde locks. Standing on one side of a crudely-made cardboard cell door, I on the other, we capture each other’s eyes through the ‘window.’

“No child. I have no time for useless, diversionary games.”

The door is pierced through on one side by an old, rusty set of keys.

“It will be a fun game.”

Oddly enough, the door comfortably occupied the middle of my living room – the diametrically-opposed realities of belonging/not belonging curiously held in abeyance.

“Corporate mergers are fun, child. Building my empire is fun. I need none other.”

Was that a flash of red in the child’s bright blue eyes?

“This game is called Sell Your Soul. We’re playing this game now.”

A finger of ice delicately traces a caress of shivers down my spine.

“Respect and adoration yours, until your end of days.

Your price: your tattered, tainted soul, now destined for my maze.

Turn the keys to play my game.”


I reach – keys rattling against my fingers.

I don’t feel the scratch – only the icy fingers of poison crawling up my arm.

“Did I forget to mention it’s a very short game?”

Flash Fiction – They Never taught THIS in Law School!

Rose lineup Flash Fiction

BoyohBoyohBoy – I’m behind in posting out all the flash stuff I’ve written, but, then again, I HAVE had other stuff exploding all over my real life lately.  The good news:  I still have a SQO – the not so good news is the relationship is still on tenderhooks.  But…at least we’re talking and within each other’s visibility fields.

If you could heal a broken arm in a day, though…everyone would be insanely reckless…so all good things and piss & vinegar and all that rot…

Enough platitudes! 

This is the most recent flash piece put out – over on my favorite home of Flash! Friday.  They wanted a lawyer as a main character, and a rather famous photograph (below) to piece the story into – so here’s what this twisted mind-o-mine came up with, which was creative enough to warrant a special mention for a ‘Wonderfully told story and a great ending.


They Never Taught THIS in Law School!

202 words




Salt brine and sea spray fill my nose.  The stink of machine oil and burned gunpowder haze coat my lungs with vileness.  An unearthy howling/crashing/screaming cacophony batters my ears as a million reflected points of blindingly hot sunshine hammer against my over-exposed retinas.   My eyes adjust to focus on the spinning propeller rapidly filling my frame of vision as the airplane gallops across the deck – tossing broken men and the materials of war akimbo – its path of destruction honed on my square-meter of decking.

I suck in a terrified breath and throw my hands up in meager defense – thus extracting my hand from the crooked old man’s handshake.

Abruptly – the vision is gone…I’m in one of the cool, filtered-light receiving rooms of the courthouse with a heart threatening to pound itself straight out of my chest, sweat drenching the interior of my Italian suit, and moments away from soiling myself.

“My appologies,” I whisper hoarsely to my client, who’s eyes flick from his still-outstretched hand to my eyes and back with undisguised disgust.  I’ve just broken the first law of Psyche Court:  don’t break contact during a deposition.

It ain’t easy being a paranormal lawyer.




Going through a bit of a rough time here on the left – a poorly-timed and Ambien-fueled Facebook post has my knickers all in a twist.

And I can’t – for the life of me – stabilize the emotional imbalance this has created.

On the plus side – the moment I dragged this picture out from the T&T’s ‘G-Spot’-ted past the earworm which provoked it’s creation started Ozzy just a-crooning in my head – so yes – silver lining and all that.  Hopefully, echoes of Black Sabbath’s ‘War Pigs’ are now cycling through your mind, too.

I like to share earworms

I recently had my astrological chart looked up.  Aparently, my logic and my emotional centers are directly opposite each other, one with the sun in residence, the other with the moon.  I guess this means I need to strike a delicate balance between logic and emotion.

and when that balance gets all teeter-totter-y?  It sucks.

I find myself wildly gyrating between ‘pay attention to it later’ and ‘I H.U.R.T.’ – which is, on top of the freaking situation that GOT me swinging – causing further bouncing between the two.


I need space.  I need a galaxy-worth of empty vacuum between me and the rest.  Now how to I tell him?