Flash Fiction

[AlternateTorg]

I loved all the entries, but I loved some more than others. Seriously, it was really hard to rank them, but here they are in order of increasing love.

Edguy: I loved the Arson, Murder and Jaywalking ending to this piece. While I do enjoy a piece that leaves some things to the imagination, I felt this one relied on the reader's imagination a little too much; I was left with what I felt was too vague an idea of what happened.

Steave: I thought it was clever hooking into the 2012 hype, and I liked how the diary's author looks back at his previous entry with a different attitude. One thing that did kind of bring it down for me is the fact that the pre-disaster entry is on December 30, when the so-called Mayan apocalypse is supposed to occur on December 21.

Dom/SlimKop: I had to laugh at this one, and not just because a cat died. (Kidding, kidding.) It seemed a little too brief for me to get much more out of it, but it was a good laugh in the midst of something rather ominous, which feels like the point.

kitoba: This piece reminded me of The Ring. I like the idea of the diary itself being an Artifact of Death. It did seem a little farfetched to me that the next owner would not only find it and start writing in it the very next day, but that they'd use the exact same words.

chaosman: I know people who would probably write messages just like this. It felt very real. I sincerely hope that the news of a soldier's death is not today or ever delivered by email, but the fact that it is delivered that way here makes me wonder at the circumstances. Is the recipient in a really isolated location? Or have things just grown more impersonal in the future? Oddly, I found myself thinking most about the thoughts and feelings of Captain Patel. How must she feel writing this message? Is she agonizing over how woefully inadequate the message feels to her? Or is this just one of hundreds that she's had to compose, and writing them has become rote?

CCC: In terms of emotional content, this piece truly felt like what someone would write if they knew for sure that they would be the last words they'd ever give to the one they love. The vagueness of the event does lead me to wonder about some of the details. If the person were interrupted mid-composition by whatever caused the wreckage, how did the message itself survive? (One thought that occurred to me is that this might be Wolverine scratching a message into a metal plate using his adamantium claws!) The other thing that struck me was that if I was writing my last words to my wife, the next thing I'd want to say after "I love you" would be a brief description of what's about to kill me, but maybe I'm just more practical than the message's author. But these were mere quibbles in the face of the wonderful emotion evident in the piece.

inspiration: Wow. Mr. Incredible's gone dark. We think of superheroes as men and women of steel, so I always like it when someone who is physically nearly invulnerable is shown to be much less so emotionally. Not only that, but the hero's very much less than perfect. He or she comes across as depressed, bitter, self-recriminating; they feel complex and nuanced even in this short passage. The Wham Line near the end was perfect and left me wanting to know more. Who is the buddy? A sidekick? A fellow superhero? Or just a close non-super friend?


Anyway, so inspiration wins! However, since she already won the first round, we'll have the author of the second place story start the next round. Go, CCC!

[Grillick]

I thought kitoba's entry was referring to something along the lines of the storyline of 50 First Dates.

[kitoba]

I thought kitoba's entry was referring to something along the lines of the storyline of 50 First Dates.

Yup, my concept was that the diarist had short term memory loss, presumably caused by a biking accident. I think it's fine to interpret it the other way, however, although it does strain credulity a bit more that way.

[CCC]

CCC: In terms of emotional content, this piece truly felt like what someone would write if they knew for sure that they would be the last words they'd ever give to the one they love. The vagueness of the event does lead me to wonder about some of the details. If the person were interrupted mid-composition by whatever caused the wreckage, how did the message itself survive? (One thought that occurred to me is that this might be Wolverine scratching a message into a metal plate using his adamantium claws!) The other thing that struck me was that if I was writing my last words to my wife, the next thing I'd want to say after "I love you" would be a brief description of what's about to kill me, but maybe I'm just more practical than the message's author. But these were mere quibbles in the face of the wonderful emotion evident in the piece.

I was thinking in terms of an aeroplane crash; some big disaster, the sort that would be on the news; the author expects his wife to already know what happened to him. In my imagination, the author is sitting quietly in his seat, seatbelt on, writing a note in his diary, not even sure whether his note will survive, while outside the window the plane's wings are on fire or missing or both and everyone else is panicing... though the story would fit all sorts of other disasters too, of course.

--------------

We've just had a lot of stories of disaster, so my next prompt is "Victory". Someone has accomplished something important; defeated a problem or foe. Found a cure for the common cold, perhaps, or solved Fermat's Last Theorem on the back of an envelope, or managed to create a human-level artificial intelligence. Or evaded the school bully, won the lottery, solved this week's Sudoku puzzle in the newspaper. It can be a big victory, a small victory, a medium victory, or whatever sort of victory you like. Victory in any shape, size or form. Tell me a short story... of victory.

[chaosman]

chaosman: I know people who would probably write messages just like this. It felt very real. I sincerely hope that the news of a soldier's death is not today or ever delivered by email, but the fact that it is delivered that way here makes me wonder at the circumstances. Is the recipient in a really isolated location? Or have things just grown more impersonal in the future? Oddly, I found myself thinking most about the thoughts and feelings of Captain Patel. How must she feel writing this message? Is she agonizing over how woefully inadequate the message feels to her? Or is this just one of hundreds that she's had to compose, and writing them has become rote?

I went with the e-mail based solely on the futuristic date. Setting is similar to Starship Troopers...the book, NOT the movie. As far as Cpt. Patel's emotional state goes; she is still quite shocky from the battle and she has had to write quite a few of these letters but this one is the hardest to write. She didn't have command of Trooper Jon Bradford for very long, yet his actions that day inspired awe even in her seasoned warriors heart. She knows how inadequate her words are but cannot think of better in her current state. I started to add a another mail from Jon's husband to a parent? or friend? talking about his training and his desire to avenge his love but ultimately decided it would be a bit too much and left it alone.

[chaosman]

Sorry for the double post but I wanted to bump the thread in hopes of continuing the fun. To further that goal...




My hands are sweaty on the stock of my weapon and my eyes are burning from the smoke that seems to hang in the air wherever I look. It has been a long and arduous journey to reach this point. We are on the brink. I can feel it in the air as thick as the smoke. Our cause is righteous and one more push forward will bring the vengeance this land deserves. The justice WE deserve.

From the beginning; on that terrible day, a day that will never be forgotten by any who lived through it, I knew it would come to this. I gave up everything I owned, all my hopes and dreams, a girl I loved and I enlisted. Before war was declared, before the government got itself together enough to do anything, I saw what was coming and began to prepare. The training was tough and since then...well, suffice it to say that it was nothing compared to what came after. Combat. Any who have not experienced it will never understand. The horror, the pain, the terror, the calmness that comes from a certainty of your own imminent demise...the rush, the intensity,the pride in your accomplishments, the brotherhood, the sheer exhilaration of being alive despite the odds. I didn't know what it was to be alive until then, not fully.

The order goes down the line. Forward. My heart is racing and my feet are running. I fire my weapon at movement ahead. Fire it again for good measure. As we advance the last mile I see more and more of the enemy giving up. There are holdouts though, there always are. The white flags I see give me strength to keep moving. I hear cheering up ahead. Can it be over? The pain comes as a shock. For some reason my legs aren't holding me up anymore. I fall.

My mind is fuzzy but the pain has stopped. I know now. I am dying. I turn my head slowly and see the flag being raised. My flag. It was worth it. I smile.

[Edguy]

Setting is similar to Starship Troopers...the book, NOT the movie.

Wasn't that bad! :) The sequels, however..

[kitoba]

Nathan opened the door of his apartment and maneuvered his groceries down the narrow hallway and into the tiny kitchen. He carefully put the cold items in the refrigerator and the dry goods on the shelf. He turned on the tap and let the water run until it was cold. Then he filled it and drained the glass in one long glorious gulp. He folded the empty bags and put them away under the sink. Then and only then did he allow himself a long shuddering sigh of relief as he crossed into the living room and collapsed on the sofa. He had done it! It was over.

He had gotten all his shopping done. He had made it to the store and back in one piece. He had left and returned to the house without incident. He hadn't yelled at anyone. He hadn't gotten in any fights. He hadn't been apprehended by the police. He hadn't had to kill anyone. He hadn't been hunted down by the FBI. He hadn't needed to use his vast psychokinetic powers. The alien conspiracy hadn't been revealed. The planet hadn't blown up. The laws of physics were still operational. The universe still existed. Time and space had not collapsed in upon themselves into one horrifying singularity.

Flawless Victory.

[drachefly]

Setting is similar to Starship Troopers...the book, NOT the movie.

Wasn't that bad! :) The sequels, however..

They are very different stories - that's for sure.

[kitoba]

It's funny how much harder a prompt "Victory" was than disaster. [shameless attempt to drum up more participation] I guess only the superstars of the board even dare attempt a prompt like that! [/satdump]

[drachefly]

For me it was just a difference in available time and personal energy.

[chaosman]

For me it was just a difference in available time and personal energy.

I think for me it was the superstar thing.

[CCC]

Only two to judge between?

...

I'm not sure if I should judge now or leave more time.

...

A bit more time, I think. There's got to be more stories that fit this prompt.

[chaosman]

May I have some more please?

[AlternateTorg]

Lieutenant commander April Kendall had never been more exhausted in her life. She couldn't believe that it had been a mere 18 hours since they'd arrived. It had been a slow, brutal fight ever since, all through the day and into the night. Over and over, she had felt like she could not go on, but somehow had managed to draw on reserves of energy she didn't know she had. Now, with the dawn only a couple of hours away, she felt completely and truly drained, her mind almost detached from reality. The alarms, the voices of others around her, even the reason she was here; they all seemed distant and vague. The only things that were real were exhaustion and pain.

A familiar voice sounded at her side. Though her disorientation made it seem muffled, she heard it, latched onto it. The words filtered through the mental haze, a simple, continuous stream of reassurance: "We're almost there. We trained for this. Don't give up. You can do it. Breathe. Fight." She clung desperately to the encouragement, gasping for breath. "This is it," the voice continued, growing more urgent. "The end is in sight! Push past the pain! Now!" Somehow, she called up the will to go on, to make this one final effort. She clenched her eyes, squeezing out the tears, and gritted her teeth. Once more unto the breach.

Pain, blood, and then, at last...

"It's a girl."