All posts tagged: story

Case One: The Missing Boy

Gates called the flat opened planned, Felhorn called it a dump. It occupied the top floor of a condemned building where demolition had ceased halfway through, leaving only front half standing and the rest as rubble. At night Felhorn would dream of the floor suddenly collapsing beneath her bed, the chipboard walls they’d thrown up as protection from the elements tumbling with her for the sixteen floor drop, before waking soaked in sweat in the very sheets she’d just been clinging to, her throat alight and aching. Gates didn’t help much. After six hundred years of not needing to sleep he’d forgotten what it was like to have nightmares and couldn’t understand why she didn’t just change the story if it wasn’t going the way she wanted. Finding him standing above her with that frown on his face when she woke often ended with her sending him sprawling across the flat, magic burning in her veins as it jumped to the surface before she could quench it. It didn’t teach him, he still came whenever …

Not Quite Prince Charming

Even ice has the decency to creak before it plunges you into frozen waters. Really, you should have started with ‘once upon a time’ rather than ‘Hi, my name’s Michael, I’ve just moved it across the hall, could I borrow your phone book?’ That introduction didn’t indicate the shit storm biting at your heels or the chaos coming my way after I decided that for once I was going to be a grown up and actually answer the door rather than hiding until the person on the other side went away. Fairy-tales are supposed to end with happy ever after. Daily Prompt: Suddenly I’ve just finished reading The Hazel Wood by Melissa Albert so I decided to go with a hundred word, fairy-tale themed flash fiction for today’s daily prompt. If you want to read a longer piece then just click on the Long Reads option in the menu above.

Off The Edge Of The Map

‘Leave me alone ya bastard!’ Henry’s words bounced off the cave walls harmlessly, much like the driftwood had, and the empty whisky bottle had months before. Despite the projectiles, his reflection continued staring up from the shallow pool at his feet. Slightly warped and vaguely true to likeness. ‘You’re the one who wanted to chase after princesses,’ it pointed out. ‘I was quite happy on a street corner with my lute.’ ‘You and your lute were shite,’ Henry spat. ‘We barely made a crown a day.’ ‘Perhaps,’ shrugged the reflection, ‘I wasn’t stuck on an island alone though. I could take a break whenever I wanted, speak to whoever I wanted.’ ‘But you didn’t.’ ‘But I could have.’ ‘But you didn’t.’ ‘I almost did once.’ ‘No you didn’t!’ Henry spat in the pool and sat down beside it. ‘Happy, fucking, ever after,’ he muttered. ‘Still blaming you,’ the reflection replied. Writing Prompt From The Story Shack If you’d like to read something a little longer I’m working on redrafting my Safe Haven series. In the …

The Clave’s Envoys

When the sun rose the world was empty and quiet. Some mornings there seemed to be no one left on the planet Emil decided. Watching from the bell tower of the ruined village’s church, he slipped his phone from his pocket and checked the messages for the third time in the last fifteen minutes. The text he’d fired off to the Clave showed as delivered but unread. He tapped the lock button and tucked it away. ‘Come on, time to leave.’ He turned from to the corner behind him, not missing the way Leif flinched at the sunlight pouring in now Emil’s body wasn’t shielding the window. ‘Grab the shield. The Clave want that thing stashed away and out of sight before dusk.’ ‘You think someone else will come after it?’ Leif asked. He was younger than Emil, and not just in the sense that Emil had nine hundred years on him. Leif was barely twenty, still steeped in hormones and raw nerves. Emil had been closer to thirty-five when he was turned, battle hardened …

The Leviathan in the Fog

The swamp land on B-12-56-SLT covered the majority of the southern hemisphere, dissipating only where it crept towards the planet’s equator and morphed into a sea of emerald green lakes and salt beaches. When the sun rose Brigant could see the salt crystals shimmering beneath the waters, turning the whole horizon to silver and white. Beautiful and barren it marked a failure in his work, a failure he’d been unable to explain after ten years of studying the planes for any evidence to suggest why the terraforming hadn’t taken on that side of the planet. He’d found nothing, and during that time the southern hemisphere had grown into chaos. With the northern half of the planet a ruin, The Planetary Authority For Planning And Development had refused to grant permission for any building work to take place on-world. They had ignored the small wooden shack that Brigant had cobbled together for himself, but set firm orders that any attempts to create networks for the habitation of life forms would be severely rebuked. In their words, …

Every Kiss In Buenos Aires

The child was no more than eight years old, he was fair haired, dark eyed, and prone to long bouts of silence that could stretch for months at a time. Amanda knew this because it had said as much in the file she had been given. The file that told her nearly nothing about the boy at all and contained a single pass key to zap her through any security door that got in her way. When she met him he was staring out of the glass doors of the day room at St. Augustine’s Hospital for Children. It wasn’t much of a garden in Amanda’s opinion. A single square of perfectly cut grass and three neat slices of exposed soil, pinpricked with pansies of varying colours. The only interruption to this order was the stone fountain in the centre. Three foot in height,  the round, shallow bowl played host to three starlings. They chirped and splashed and played and eventually they flew away as a nurse opened a window and disturbed them. They boy …

Keeping Things Casual – Flash Fiction Freewrite

‘We’re keeping things casual you know, no pressure.’ Keeping her foot on the clutch Shannon switched from second to third gear and eased off the roundabout, trying to ignore the silence on the other end of the phone. Above her the hands-free device blinked balefully, reminding her that it was about time she put it on charge but that it hadn’t died yet. The lights on the crossing up ahead moved from green to amber and she swore softly as she reached for the break and moved back down the gears. Traffic always seem to be against her when she called her sister. ‘Casual?’ said Karla on the other end of the line. ‘We both know that you don’t do casual.’ ‘That’s nonsense and you know it! Anyway, this time it’ll be fine. Rick’s  a great guy but he’s not really my type. Yeah he’s cute but he’s so god-damn boring. I think if I had to listen to that all day I’d throw myself out the third floor bathroom window.’ A couple with a …

A New Friday Fiction Link Up: What Happens Next Is Up To You!

I’ve been taking part in fiction challenges for years but there never seem to be many for short story writers that want to tackle something longer than a hundred words. The best I’ve found is Chuck Wendig’s Flash Fiction Challenges. Seeing as there seems to be this shortage, I thought I might try my hand at kick-starting my own Friday Short Story Challenges. This week you have a carry on the story piece. You can add a single paragraph in the comments below and work with others readers to create a piece with many authors, or you can whisk away the start of the story from below and post your own full blown piece to your blog. Guidelines: You can either add a paragraph in the comments below or write a full story carrying on from the snippet below on your own blog and add your link to the linky tool at the bottom of the page. If you’re adding to the story in the comments then try and reply to the story thread instead …

Hollow Flowers – Friday Fictioneers

The flowers were supposed to be an apology and a promise. The apology was for buying three thousand miniature figures of a unknown comic book hero and failing to find somewhere other than the living room to store them. The promise was that they would be gone before she got back from her sister’s the following week. He bought her a second bouquet when that deadline came and went and the boxes were still rendering the kitchen inaccessible. They were pretty flowers, she’d admit that. The flames were beautiful though. She liked them much better than any bunch of flowers. (100 words)

One Word

It started with one word. What it was exactly, I can’t remember. The world perhaps. The universe? This? Us? All of it from one, little word. [140 characters] I adore microfiction and Twittering Tales is just fab! Check out some of the fantastic stories from last week with the link above and if you want, join in with your own! Best of luck and happy reading.