1. Lewdog
    Offline

    Lewdog Come ova here and give me kisses! Supporter Contributor

    Joined:
    Dec 9, 2012
    Messages:
    7,530
    Likes Received:
    2,826
    Location:
    Williamsburg, KY

    Current Contest Flash Fiction Contest #15- "Surreal Moments" *CLOSED*

    Discussion in 'Bi-Weekly Flash Fiction Contest Archives' started by Lewdog, Oct 27, 2014.

    The newest and greatest Flash Fiction Contest #14 is "Surreal Moments" as chosen by previous winner @Who . Please keep in mind the word limit of 150-450 words. All entries must be posted anonymously in this thread by 6:00 pm EST December 7th (extended to three weeks) and make sure to include the number of words and any warnings. You can also make your entry private simply by clicking more functions before posting, and click the box that makes the post viewable by "Members Only."

    Thanks everyone and good luck!
     
    Last edited: Nov 30, 2014
  2. Michael R. Kage
    Offline

    Michael R. Kage New Member

    Joined:
    Aug 7, 2014
    Messages:
    0
    Likes Received:
    0
    Know thyself.
    (466 words)

    It was, in retrospect, a good idea.

    The night was cold, crisp and clear and my breathing made thick vapor clouds. Every step on the sidewalk’s frozen snow was accompanied by a crunching sound. A single far away street lamp pierced the darkness, giving life to small and stunted shadows.

    The street was eerily empty at this late hour. I could feel the buzz from the party leaving me, the nights chilly embrace slowly lifting my headache.

    I should have called a cab, i thought, remembering some of the stories about this part of town. Rumors about violent characters frequenting this neighborhood, especially at night, filled my thoughts.

    The cold will keep most people in, and i’m not exactly small, i comforted myself with little success.

    The street seemed to get longer, the cold biting harder. I pushed my irrational fears aside and focused on my shadow, small and insignificant, as it struggled in front of me. Still, i quickened my pace. The stillness of the night, the rhythmic sound of my breath and the crunch that followed my every step were chipping away at my confidence, an unnatural fear gaining a foothold in my consciousness.

    My eyes were down, concentrating on my shadow. It seemed longer now, more diffused. Strange protuberances appeared somehow moving at their own volition. I could feel my heart racing faster. And faster.

    Where once there was one now there were two. Almost completely separate. A small one for me and a long and spindly one for someone else.

    Panic. My head started spinning, thoughts out of control. Who was coming ? Did he see me? What if i get mugged? Or worse! I don’t know how to fight. I should turn back. No he will see me. I should run. That’s worse! Stay on track, no sudden movements. Just stay quiet and pass him.

    The tension was overwhelming. My brain was screaming at me to start running.

    And then, just as i was about to hightail it, the long shadow crossed the street and took its owner with it.

    He passed on the other side street, my eyes straining to look at him without turning my head. A glimpse told me he was moving faster just as he passed by.

    The danger was gone. I slowly got my senses back and with them a notion entered my head.

    I was the danger!

    That thought almost stunned me. If i wasn’t so caught up in my head i would have figured it out sooner.

    Other people crossed the street and avoided ME on a dark night. My height and frame was a trigger for anxiety and fear in other people!

    An easiness washed over me, like a wave of soothing waters. It would be the last time i feared the dark.
     
  3. Lancie
    Offline

    Lancie Contributing Member

    Joined:
    Oct 20, 2014
    Messages:
    257
    Likes Received:
    146
    Location:
    Birmingham, UK
    Cats Rule (279 words)

    “Human, I'm hungry. You need to feed me,” said the cat, her paw tapping my forehead. Luminous saucer eyes drilled into me. I was hypnotized. Then I frowned.

    “Angel, did you say something?”

    “Yes,” purred Angel. “I said I'm hungry,” her head tilted to one side. “Come now, Human, I must have some tuna.” With that, she jumped off my bedside table and glided across to my door, starring intently at the handle a moment. She sighed. “Human? Please hurry up.”

    I looked across at my sleeping partner, her legs tangled in the sheets, breathing softly. I got out of bed and opened the door. Angel sauntered across the hallway to the kitchen. I followed her, scratching my head.

    She leapt onto the kitchen table. I opened the cupboard and pulled out a red ceramic bowl. “No, Human! Not that one! The one with the yellow fish. The yellow fish please me.”

    I nodded and selected the correct bowl, spooned the tuna in. Angel sniffed, looked from the bowl to me and back again. She dipped to eat. Three mouthfuls later she looked back at me.

    “Thank you Human. I'm full. You may get rid of that, see you at breakfast” she walked over to my bag and began to paw at it, turning in a circle. She stopped suddenly. “Oh, Human?”

    “Yes, Angel?”

    “Breakfast is served in the grey bowl. You are dismissed.”

    I went back to bed. My partner stirred and rolled over. I whispered, “Did you know the cat talks?”

    “Mmmhmm,” she sighed, without opening her eyes. “Sometimes.”

    “Oh,” I said and pulled the blankets back around me. “Nobody tells me anything.”
     
  4. Canopyvine
    Offline

    Canopyvine Member

    Joined:
    Aug 22, 2014
    Messages:
    58
    Likes Received:
    21
    Location:
    Germany
    A touch of surrealism (480)

    She is drawing my portrait.

    "How much longer?"

    "Almost done now" her voice is reassuring, as she squints to change perspective, "There is only something missing, maybe a touch of surrealism" and, with a few brush strokes, the eye looks like an egg stretching out of its shell.

    Bitch! I know those street artists are a scam and for a moment I think about leaving, but I am not going to let her have my money and the portrait.

    So, I end up waiting at the bus stop with a strange version of me in my hands. The bus is on schedule but my joy is interrupted. Because, as the reflective door opens, I can see that my own eye is almost touching the pavement and the driver, who has merged with his seat, gives me a look of despair that makes my blood freeze.

    Thankfully my house is not too far, but it is hard to run with my legs looking like oversized turnips, so it takes me about an hour. My neighbor, who is watering her flowers, greets me with a smile that is melting on top of the dahlia. I avoid eye contact and run up the stairs, hoping she didn't get offended. My hands have become like stretched bubblegum now, so that is a feat on its own.

    My door is asking for the secret password, but there is a large crack in the middle so I manage to squeeze in. I go straight to my room, ignoring the horse head that is casually eating large chunks of my television set. I shut the window sills, switch of all lights and hide under my duvet in total darkness, wishing that everything becomes normal again.

    My heart is pounding, then beating fast and then calms down. The dark is swirling in intricate fractals, caressing my face. So warm and calm and reassuring it's almost hypnotic and my eyelids are clicking like locks over my eyes.




    I am awakened by my alarm clock, make a piece of toast, ignoring the toaster's squeaks "hot, too hot!" and a cup of grape coffee and soon I'm down the stairs, returning the greetings of the smiling flowers.

    I have a strange feeling that I should be terrified but everything looks so normal: The apartment buildings that are leaning onto each other, enjoying big cups of morning tea, the dogs walking their owners in the sunshine, the neighborhood kids playing catch with their left eyeballs, and the street artist waiting for customers.

    I know that it is probably a scam but I feel like trying today.

    She takes her time, so I ask "How much longer?"

    "Almost done now" her voice is reassuring, as she squints to change perspective, "There is only something missing, maybe a touch of surrealism" and, with a few brush strokes, the eye looks creepily symmetrical.

    Bitch!
     
  5. lustrousonion
    Offline

    lustrousonion Contributing Member

    Joined:
    Oct 7, 2014
    Messages:
    302
    Likes Received:
    132
    Location:
    Germany
    A Friend [416 words]

    “When did she die?” the girl asks, her nebulous gray eyes gazing up at him.

    What age could she be? By height, maybe eleven. If she didn't raise her face up, he would look down and see nothing but the top of her frizzy hair.

    He swallows a lump in his throat. “Nearly a year.”

    She is surely very young. Why does that matter? he questions himself.

    Scott has been walking for hours, round and round the spongy track. On each loop he passes the white paper bag with the small burning candle inside, the one he lit for her. He feels it pulling him each time like the gravity of a planet. What will he do, he wonders, when the candle snuffs out?

    The girl is a comforting presence beside him, walking in step. She doesn't respond with anything other than a short nod. Her hands are shoved in her cutoff shorts.

    It's not appropriate, Scott chides himself. She's too little to hear. But he finds himself wanting to tell her the secrets of the last few years. He's been so alone, and it would be too easy, he thinks, to open up his pain for her inspection and allow her small voice to shed a light on it.

    He'd like to take her home. An errant thought.

    Not as a woman, he remarks in his own head, though there's no one there to hear him. Since she died, he continues to speak to her, but his delusions don't run so far that he believes her capable of hearing.

    “Have we met before?” Inappropriate, Scott thinks. If someone should overhear...

    Piercing gray eyes find him out, consider. “I don't think so... But it feels like we have.”

    Encouragement, and more than he's had for so long. “Do you think there's such a thing as past lives?”

    “Like you've lived before? I dunno.” She shrugs, and Scott wonders which little white bag on the track belongs to her. “But sometimes,” she says, “I feel very heavy.”

    “I think...” Scott doesn't think he should say it. Is he losing his mind? She's just a little girl. “I think we have met in another life. I think we were friends.” Once said, the words flood him. What he would give to go to his knee, to hug this little creature and feel her warmth? Of course he won't. He would never.

    “I think so, too,” says in the twinkling light.

    They continue to circle—for the night, friends.
     

Share This Page