Vote for your Favorite

Out of the bubble, a time for action
3 (15.8%)
Wicked Damnation
6 (31.6%)
The Liar
1 (5.3%)
Antidote for Summer Boredom
3 (15.8%)
The Plight of a Programmer
3 (15.8%)
Hangover, a Nightmare of a Morning
3 (15.8%)

Total Members Voted: 14

Voting closed: July 07, 2009, 07:35:56 PM

Author Topic: Voting Open FF#7  (Read 1349 times)

Offline Flmngo

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Voting Open FF#7
« on: June 30, 2009, 07:35:56 PM »
Voting will be open for 7 days. The winner will be responsible for the next Flash Fiction Challenge. Good luck to all!

1.  Out of the bubble, a time for action

The assassin approached the refugee along the sidewalk, his shadow like a gargoyle warning of the coming Armageddon. NEVER BEFORE had there been an ANGEL of death so CUNNING, none so bent on creating desolation in this world. If only I could stay in my private bubble, a coma, alone with my bottle of rum in my tower of isolation. My hand rose, the taser like the arm of a robot. The flower in my lapel, like the shuttle in front of the postal van, like the crepitus in my arms about to get caught up in the coming CONFLAGRATION.

2.  Wicked Damnation

Warm blood trickled down his hands as his wife’s lifeless body plummeted to the floor. He gazed down at the source of the pain emanating from his gut – the handle of a kitchen knife protruded from his stomach.

His heart rate slowed to a halt and he fell to his knees. “Damn you, you CUNNING bitch.”

Darkness swept over him as black demons crept forth from the corners of the room. Their screams echoed into the base of his soul, stirring up every fear he had ever known. They grabbed him by his ankles and pulled him down to hell.

3. The Liar

What would they call it? A CONFLAGRATION? Dust to dust, ashes to ashes...

Really, this was just crude puppetry. The soft face was lying, and she wanted to smash the head between her bony palms like she would a porcelain doll's, if only she had one in her hands. 

The face was too soft, too ANGELIC.  The memory of those thoughts erased by this stupid peaceful face; the brokenness of it, the spindly web of hungry delusion that once enchanted it was gone.  They never knew that it was all CUNNING that got her, and not their version of things.

4. Antidote for Summer Boredom

Flames spew from the abandoned building, the CONFLAGRATION threatening the city block. Sirens scream. Passersby gape, loitering teens smirk. A twelve-year-old ANGEL with frenzied blue eyes pleads, “Patrick’s inside!”

He nods. “Let’s go.”

Water streams from hoses. Gear on, air tank strapped to his back, he lumbers six flights up the fire escape. Smashing a window, he climbs over the ragged glass. Acrid smoke swirls. He rushes past blazing walls, shouting, searching, and steps on a tarp spread in the hall. His boot finds empty air. He plunges through each CUNNINGLY cut hole, his body shattering on the basement floor.

5.  The Plight of a Programmer

NEVER BEFORE has my ANGEL been so CUNNING: The CONFLAGRATION had burned all my work, and I still had 85 words to go before this actually made the contest. I had to write fast, as this is flash fiction, but I was depressed. I didn't think I could do it in the time allotted.

Luckily, I'm so full of shite one of my eyes is blue and sometimes the other one is brown. My mom once told me I could sell a refrigerator to an Eskimo. This ANGEL of NEVER BEFORE seen CUNNING CONFLAGRATION got me to write bullshit again.

6. Hangover, a Nightmare of a Morning

Slowly, Cora’s senses came to her as she woke to the stench of vomit. When she opened her eyes the CONFLAGRATION of daylight was too much to bear and she tightly closed them. With her ears ringing and her head pounding, she caressed her forehead in an attempt to comfort herself. She had no idea that alcohol, like a demon can be so very CUNNING. Now she understood why they called the mixed drink she poisoned herself with a dark ANGEL. NEVER BEFORE had she been this sick. And she made a promise to herself that she never will again.
"There is little grace in a life that never extends beyond the boundaries of self."