Poll

I cast my vote for ...

Was it Something I Said?
1 (12.5%)
Crazy Man
0 (0%)
All’s Well that Ends Well
1 (12.5%)
The Harrowing Tides
5 (62.5%)
The Invasion
1 (12.5%)
Looking Forward To It, My Lad
0 (0%)

Total Members Voted: 6

Voting closed: June 04, 2009, 09:30:01 PM

Author Topic: Flash Fiction Challenge #5 Voting  (Read 1240 times)

Offline Enthusiast

  • Sr. Member
  • ****
  • Posts: 413
  • Get started. Keep going.
Flash Fiction Challenge #5 Voting
« on: May 28, 2009, 09:30:01 PM »
Hello Everybody,

Voting is now open for the Flash Fiction Challenge #5. Many thanks and good luck to our 6 participants. Please take a moment to review the entries and cast your vote! Voting will expire in 7 days.

It was my privilege to administer this challenge.
/Enthusiast
---

Was it Something I Said?

The SIDEWALK came up and hit him; at least that’s how it felt in his drunken stupor. Life was one long series of rejections, abandoned on the hospital steps as a baby, and passed from foster home to foster home as he grew up.  Used and abused all his life, now the barman had thrown him physically out of the pub and his stomach was beginning to reject the alcohol all over the pavement. But the worst rejection he’d ever faced came from the publishers earlier that day, they’d rejected his novel, ‘Was it something I said Lord?’ Was it?

---

Crazy Man

I am on the urban SIDEWALK. I see up ahead a strange sight. A man has blown a BUBBLE about two feet wide, using some bright pink bubblegum. It waves in the wind. It looks fragile, like it will burst any second.

I walk up to him, knowing he cannot talk, and ask loudly, “Why are you blowing that bubble?”

No answer, of course. I say, “Is it a contest?” No answer. The bubble gets larger.

I say, “Are you a crazy man?”

He pulls a TASER gun from his rear pocket and zaps me. I fall to the ground.

---

All’s Well that Ends Well

“A BUBBLE, ooo bubbles!”  Margarite squealed, clapping her chubby hands
and waddling after the orbs floating round the yard.
 
Bubbles had become her obsession since Gram brought the magical bottle of liquid last week.

I delighted in watching her dance after the translucent globes for hours.
Fascinated by Margarite’s look of surprise and awe every time one of the bubbles disappeared,
I wondered what the toddler must be thinking.

I was startled then, when she whispered Shakespeare’s words,
“On my life, my lord, a bubble,” as she balanced one tiny sphere in her palm,
displaying a wondrous gift for me.

---

The Harrowing Tides

He reached out to me, his eyes blood-shot red. He grabbed my hand and pulled me closer. My mind froze as our fast-paced surroundings slowed to a deafening halt. Smoke and fire framed the frail figure before me. He cast his eyes on the heavens as he mumbled, “Mommy.” A bloody BUBBLE formed in the corner of his mouth.

The ocean water turned red as it rounded his body. I looked up at the bloodshed while his hand slipped from my grasp. I didn’t even know his name.

I grabbed my M1 Garand, and joined the silent heroes of Omaha.

---

The Invasion

The BUBBLE oozed up from the SIDEWALK as the sprawling city park settled into eerie silence under the full moon. Hovering close to the cold concrete, the oily surface spun with sickening rainbows. A cop approached down the garden path, his black heels clicking leisurely. Obviously, some child’s balloon drifted near the ground, now close to death. He crouched down, hand on his TASER, bringing his face close to the oily surface. The barb went cleanly through his right eye and lodged securely in his brain. The cop blinked then swung his head back towards the city. It was begun.

---

Looking Forward To It, My Lad

The rat scuttled along the edge of the SIDEWALK, close enough to the gutter to  dive into the nearest drain. It was a broiling hot day, the sunlight a crashing, clashing klaxon blaring. She went about her intense business unremarked. Almost the sunlight had created a BUBBLE in which she existed outside the hot meld of the human and canine bodies amongst whose legs she carreened.

Behind her, restless excited muttering. Then, a sharp crack and a muted roar. She dared not look behind. She did not see the man fold up, his unheard rat-like squeak, stunned by the TASER.

« Last Edit: June 29, 2009, 03:59:22 AM by fire-fly »
Blessed are the flexible, for they shall not be bent out of shape.