Flash Fiction Friday

Oooo…  A must-try. And what an incredible image.

700 words?  Wow… now, here is a challenge!  Not counting the little 100 word slices I do for Lily Childs Feardom, I have written only two stories that were less than a thousand word.  My brain is going to get some exercise this week!

I’m in — I might have a sleepless few days, but for a great cause – 

If Only I Were a Kitten
 
Some famous singer would write
A song about my broken face
And beg on my behalf for a
New set of whiskers, some warm bed.
 
I haven’t tasted any milk
In so long I can’t even think
What it should feel like going down.
Sometimes I dream  of owning my
 
Very own water fountain. I
Could fill up everybody’s cups
All day long for free. Nobody
Could say a thing about it to
 
Me. No one ever wants to talk
I’ve noticed. This really hurts a long time.
They give their coins like I’m going
To reach out and grab them by the
 
Throat and force them to swallow a
Handful of germs. I only want
To say,” hello”. I don’t know what
Else to say, possibly give them.
 
darryl price

Done, its a true story. One that I wish had a different ending.

http://carolinaparrothead.blogspot.com/2011/09/flash-fiction-friday-cycle-47-bright.html#links

Here is mine:

http://www.fictionaut.com/stories/james-lloyd-davis/butterfly-fingers

Hard to be subjective about children.  Hard to imagine.  There is some truly fine work coming out of this.

Here is my entry, a poem called “Bombs Keep Falling” at Fictionaut.

“Bombs Keep Falling” by Robert Vaughan → Fictionaut

Thanks for taking up this cause, Thomas and Fiona!

Here’s mine ” In the Woods” from Litsnack and Fictionaut at http://www.fictionaut.com/stories/david-ackley/in-the-woods

I would like to contribute a short story, as below:

She was small for her age, and found learning difficult. She remembered her first day at school, when she arrived, feeling lost and alone. She didn’t speak English very well and …was extremely shy. She wiped away a tear that threatened to fall from the corner of her eye. She pretended she was on a new adventure, a magical mystery tour to help her to cope. As her mum turned and left she felt lost. She noticed a girl at the back of the classroom, who was crying, a blond-haired girl with a long pony tail. Somehow it made her feel better to know that someone felt like her, and it gave her comfort, being able to comfort her new found friend. Most of her classmates treated her as an alien, because of her dark skin colouring and because she couldn’t speak English very well, she got bullied and withdrew into herself. She didn’t learn to read until she was seven, when finally she was able to read the words it gave her a huge sense of relief, that finally she could understand what she was reading. It opened up a new world to her, one in which she could travel through her imagination into wonderful, fantastic worlds. Worlds in which the people were friendlier, more kind, ones in which the animals could speak and where she was welcome and felt as if she belonged. kind regards Helen Vipond (Wire Writers Warrington)

Great cause.  My contribution to the Lost Children project, “Dialogue of Self and Little Boy/Little Girl, or Not” – online at Fictionaut. http://www.fictionaut.com/stories/sam-rasnake/dialogue-of-self-with-little-boylittle-girl-or-not 

My story is here:
http://www.fictionaut.com/stories/lynn-beighley/probably-right-lost-children

I’ve been asked to post this story for a member of the Pulp Factory (Airship 27), Mr. Ian Watson. He was not sure how to enter. His tale is “The Crusade” and can be read here:

http://www.chillwater.org.uk/writing/the%20crusade.htm