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  1. Lilly James Haro
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    Lilly James Haro The Grey Warden

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    Current Contest Flash fiction contest #25 - "ghost fields"

    Discussion in 'Bi-Weekly Flash Fiction Contest Archives' started by Lilly James Haro, Jun 14, 2015.

    Now that the Summer Contest is over the Flash Fiction Contests are up and running again! Good luck!

    The theme for Flash Fiction Contest #25 is “Ghost Fields” which was chosen by previous winner @NigeTheHat. Remember the word limit is 150-450 words and all entries must be posted anonymously in this thread by 6:00 pm EST September 28th. 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."
     
    Last edited: Sep 6, 2015
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  2. Lilly James Haro
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    Lilly James Haro The Grey Warden

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    This contest is open now, be sure to enter :)

    -Lilly James Haro
     
  3. Mumble Bee
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    Mumble Bee The writer formerly known as Chained. Contributor

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    "So all this is going to be... food?" It seemed outlandish to the boy who'd never known the world before the blackout; a child who's only food before that point had come out of cans and bags.

    The field, still clear of any overly large trees, was in great shape for planting. There had been few signs of wild animals when Chad had first reconed the area and even those vanished once the giant fertalizers were moved in.

    "No, not all of it, just some." Chad thought about explaining acres to his younger brother, but decided against it. He'd just spent the last half hour on what a 'sky' was and that needed time to digest.

    "But that's what all this upper world is for right?" The boy was being curious; curiosity used to be encouraged in the old word- before the questions had disastrous answers. These were not questions about strings or theories of alternate dimensions though; Chad could answer these.

    "Well, we don't need that much anymore; that much food could feed a city." A city with more options than wheat and potatoes.

    "What's a city?"

    "I keep forgetting how young you are." Chad made a mental note as he ruffled the boy's hair to teach him about cities from the ground up on the way back.

    "I'm not a kid just because i don't know stuff!"

    "Relax, its fine. A city is a place where a lot of people gathered and lived." Those experiences were the difference between those born in the vault and those who had lived in the real world; once the old died off, would all the small parts of that old existence even have mattered?

    "Really? How many? Thirty? Forty?"

    "Sometimes a million." Chad wasn't really sure about city populations, but it felt like a really solid guess.

    "Didn't they know that was dangerous? That's how the germs spread."

    "They thought they knew." And they had been very, very wrong.

    "If there were so many," the young one looked around, if there had been a million people alive at one point then surely he'd see one now, "Where'd they all go?"

    "What's our rule in the vault?"

    "Use everything four times more than you should, and twice more than you can."

    "Good, you're listening. If you spent half as much time listening as you did asking, you could be teaching me something right now."

    "You didn't answer my question."

    "They're with us, helping to rebuild humanity." The survivor, one of too few, let the freshly ground mulch sift through his fingers, "They're here in the ghost fields."
     
  4. Lilly James Haro
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    Lilly James Haro The Grey Warden

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    The Contest will be open for one more week! Be sure to enter!

    -LJH
     
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  5. GingerCoffee
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    GingerCoffee Web Surfer Girl Contributor

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    The End [449 words]

    The whole town was there, what was left of us anyway. The Bakers stood with their mob of unruly children peaking out from behind them, none stepping one foot closer than their parents. Widow Smith who almost never ventured further than her porch had come, holding that yappy little dog of hers, only it wasn’t yapping. Mr and Mrs Winston had closed their store, not that they had any customers. No one had any money.

    The Mayor and Chief of Police took it upon themselves to stretch that yellow crime scene tape between two traffic barricades they’d placed on this side of the street keeping everyone back. I didn’t see they a right to stop us getting a closer look. But my older sister, who was in charge now that Mom and Dad were dead, wouldn’t let me cross the street.

    It hadn’t rained in more than two years. The crops had all failed. Three months ago the last chicken was killed and cooked. Bill Johnson gave some of it to my sister saying it was because I was still growing. I think he was looking for more but my sister didn’t have the energy to be looking back.

    Last year, when it was clear the drought wasn’t going to be short-lived, people began to leave, a few at a time at first, and then two or three families a day until our thriving little community had become a skeleton of its former self. Those of us left had nowhere to go. We lived on a government subsidy of rice, beans, cheese, and trucked in water. But the truck didn’t come last week. The drought had spread.

    Now here was this miracle. Three weeks ago, across the highway where cars no longer passed, the fields that had been barren for more than two years were covered in a blanket of sprouted green. A week later it had become cornstalks three feet high. Now today, the corn was ready for harvest.

    If we hadn’t been stunned, and if we had been less afraid, we’d have ignored that crime scene tape. But people are funny. Everyone was afraid to be first. We all looked to the Chief and the Mayor for what to do. They would know what to do.

    #

    Another house just like the rest of them, Sarge, all dead. Dinner table set with plates and glasses filled with dirt, unplugged refrigerator filled with dirt, cupboards filled with dirt. This one’s worse than the one with the dead dog with dirt in its food dish. There’s a bunch of dead kids and it looks like the mother was spooning dirt into the baby’s mouth when they died.
     
    Last edited: Oct 4, 2015
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