“the tragedy of the stone mountain”

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Many, many ages ago, there was a stone mountain in the southern corner of Ireland shaped in a peculiar heart formation. One particularly electric night, a bolt of lightning shot off a large boulder and sent it flying down to the field below. It stayed there for countless centuries, and lent shade to many a lovers’ picnic.

But destiny would not have it. For a vicious storm passed and another fateful lightning bolt struck, and suddenly, that absolute monolith was split into two.

At first, the divided boulder mourned its separation. But as time passed, the two stones grew so accustomed to their new positions that it appeared as if they had never been one stone at all. That, one may argue, was the greatest tragedy of the stone mountain.


Word count: 130. For a flash fiction challenge. Well, I tried.

✪ Angie

“nightshade and other objects of death”

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The team employed the use of Nightshade to get the information they wanted from their captive.

With poisonous extractions from nightshade foliage combined with an assortment of other unfriendly matter, the team transplanted the mix into a tube of rose DNA and created the Nightshade- a deathly white flower whose scent proved fatal to those exposed to it for more than five days. The symptoms were horrible, painful to observe, and the deaths were always consistently slow and dragged out. Most prisoners relented information under the false hope that they’d receive an antidote. Even more deadly, it seemed, than the Nightshade itself were its administers. They were young adults with trademark snowy hair, pale skin, and translucent irises, who had all developed resistance to the poisonous plant due to staggered exposure since birth. They were known to be silent killers, but as current captive Nikolai Reminovsky knew to be true, they were all still human.


Word count: 139. For Monday’s Finish-the-Story. I guess this one wasn’t much a story than a bunch of setting vomit, but ah well.

✪ Angie

selfie stick

“Emma, can’t you come bowling with us?”

“Sorry, but I’m broke.”

“How come?”

“I bought a selfie stick.”

“That’s… interesting.”

“It was surprisingly more expensive than I had expected.”

“Okay.”

“Oh, it wasn’t for me.”

“Mhmm.”

“Honest.”

“Does your dad know?”

“He does now. Dad loves his new selfie stick.”


For the 5o-word story challenges. “Selfie stick” was the one I attempted today. And failed, because that was just a bunch of dialogue, and not at all a story. Blargh.

escape

I was trapped in a labyrinth, and the memories crawling behind me forced me into an intersection. The left and right hallways were dimly lit, yet unsure. There was also the option to go straight, but the path declined into darkness. The mind was a difficult place to escape from.


Oh whoop-de-doo, look who wrote a moment instead of a story! At least I’m improving… I hope. One of (many to come) 50-word stories.

✪ Angie

“ice fair”

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“These ice sculptures are surprisingly not that boring.”

“Mhmm,” I said, scanning the area. The lot behind the city art hall had been strung with Christmas lights. People milled around in winter jackets to admire the handiwork of the sculptors. But no sign of-

“Larsson!”

Something socked me in the shoulder. I turned around to find Fred frowning up at me.

“What was that for?”

Fred sighed. “Dude, you haven’t been paying attention… to anything.”

“Have I?” I mumbled, glancing over the lot again, my eyes widening as my sight locked upon twin braids and a purple beanie.

Fred followed my gaze. “Anya’s here?”

“Come on,” I beckoned, then broke into a sprint in her direction.

Fred chased after me. “No wonder you’ve been so absentminded!” A loud groan could be heard. “Now why did I have to be best friends with a romantic?”


Word count: 144. For this week’s Flash Fiction for the Aspiring Writer.

✪ Angie

“taking off”

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Delphine always wanted to pilot her father’s plane and when he forgot his keys on her tenth birthday, she knew that taking off would be easy. 

Everything was already in order: the gears, the locks, the control board. Not that Delphine needed it be set before she started; the girl had seen her father fly innumerable times, and she could recite the position of each switch and pedal with her eyes closed. But it was nice, she supposed, that the plane was prepared to take off before she even entered it. Because as her father rummaged their small home for his car keys, Delphine would take the Marshall Jane for a short spin and come back down before Pops even noticed anything awry.

As she swooped in the air, enjoying the unique closeness to the sky and the sun and world above, the newly ten-year-old remembered something she ought to have considered before she even began. Taking off would be easy. Landing, on the other hand, was a completely different story.


Word count: 145. For Monday’s Finish-the-Story. I had some trouble with the given sentence start, but I think I managed through. Ah, Delphine. Maybe her father pre-set the plane to teach her a lesson… who knows.

✪ Angie

“sherman city hall”

<!-- Invalid wp shortcode URL --> fts629The Mayor and the town manager waved as their next victim approached.

Max Rodriguez pulled up to the side of the Sherman city hall, skidded her Camry to a stop, and fumbled out onto the open grass.

“Welcome to Sherman,” said the two men, as they ran towards her. “And who might you be?”

“I’m freckin’ lost, that’s what,” Max growled.

The men eyed each other. “They sell maps at the general store in town.”

“And where is ‘town’?”

“A little bit past the woods. It’s not far at all.”

“Alright,” Max growled, clutching her phone to her chest and following the men into the forest. She opened her Tumblr feed as the men led the way, silent. For town leaders, they were lousy conversationalists.

“The freck,” Max uttered. “There’s no connection here.”

“Oh, we must’ve forgot to mention,” began the mayor. “Sherman is strictly anti-technology.”

“Hmm,” Max said. “I’d rather die.”

“Good thing we’re here,” said the town manager.


Word count: 148, cutting it close. I saw “murder” in one of the tags, and I knew exactly what I was going to write. For this week’s Finish-the-Story. I was gone on a business camp last week, so I couldn’t make it. Wonder what happens to Max. Will she survive, or will she be “just another victim”? What do you guys think?

✪ Angie

“impending evil”

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The grass was beginning to come back, I noticed. Maybe the whole dust storm fiasco was over. I glanced at the luminescent marble in my hand and wondered if it’s supposed magic had something to do with the recovering weather.

“Maudie,” I called over to my horse, who nibbled at the ground. “Let’s go for a ride.”

She trotted to where I stood, and I hoisted myself up onto her. I’d ride bareback. It was a promising morning, and we’d only go for a stroll.

I guided her to the longer, more scenic trail in the woods. Yet even with the sun in the sky and the running of the creek, I began to feel uneasy. Strange shadows flitted among the trees.

The marble will protect me, I thought vainly.

The marble guaranteed nothing of Maudie’s safety. Perhaps my selfishness was her downfall.


Word count: 143. For this week’s Flash Fiction for the Aspiring Writer.

Read part 1 here: “the good and the bad

✪ Angie

the good and the bad

<!-- Invalid wp shortcode URL --> fts615At first, it looked like an ordinary marble, but it was far from it. 

It had been a musty summer, thick with choking dust storms that threatened the welfare of our agrarian community. I had been as bored as ever, traipsing through dehydrated farmland until I happened to spot something small and glittery. I pocketed the marble, and that was it.

Except, it wasn’t. I had fallen asleep near the forest one afternoon and awoke to a particularly threatening dust storm. Yet as I fled to our family’s farmhouse, the curtain of dust parted and left me clean and unharmed. I never seemed to get sick any more either, but maybe that was simply coincidence. The marble became my good-luck charm. I was safe from everything, everything but the marble.


Word count: 116. For this week’s Finish-the-Story.

Part 2 here: “impending evil

✪ Angie

#18 “wednesday night date night”

His heart was heavy. He had to find the right words to let her know. It would be a shock for her and he wasn’t sure how she would handle the news. Why? He had asked himself that question thousands of times over the last thirty minutes. Why? Somehow there had to be an answer for it. If only he could come up with one before he had to tell her. 

It was Wednesday night date night, and Kaine MacRaltek shook as he buttoned up his plaid shirt, shook as he belted his jeans, shook as he slipped into his dress boots, shook as he hugged his girlfriend hello.

“You nervous or somefin’?” Lacey asked, patting his cheek endearingly as they slipped out to the road where Lacey’s 1969 Corvair sat parked. “‘Cause, ya know, we dun hafta go out t’night.”

Kaine forced a smile. “Geronimo’s has all-you-can-eat ribs tonight, and I know how much you love ribs.”

“Ya know me so well, Kaine, baby.” Lacey scrunched up her nose and smiled at her boyfriend of seven years. Then she turned back to the steering wheel and laughed into the open air.

Kaine supposed it was more of a guffaw than a laugh. Lacey’s dad said it sounded like a constipated donkey trying to take a shit. Kaine thought it was kind of cute. He would definitely miss it.

“So ya know that girlie at work I told ya about,” Lacey began, nonchalantly waving her right hand in Kaine’s general direction. She looked a bit funny, gesturing mindlessly as her eyes remained fixed upon the road, but at least she was a focused driver.

“Yes, hun,” Kaine replied. “Eleanor.”

“Tha’s right, Eleanor Bing,” Lacey said. “The l’il seventeen-year-old twerp. She caught me scribblin’ in the breakroom. So I showed her summa my old paintin’s.”

“Really,” said Kaine. “Did she like them?”

“‘Course she liked ’em!” Lacey grinned. “In fact, she liked ’em so much, she’s showin’ her dad ’em! ‘parently, he’s some kinda bigshot in the art dealer world. If he likes m’stuff, I’m off to the grandstands of art!” She sobered and snuck a quick peek at Kaine, who sat perched upon the edge of his seat, forearm gripping the edge of the open window. “‘course, if it means I’ll leave you, I’d turn it all down. You know I love you, baby.”

“I love you too,” Kaine said quietly. “And I’d love you even if I left you.”

Lacey gave him a weird look. Kaine peered over the side of the car and stared longingly out at the Texas scenery.

“I mean- but, what if left you?” he said finally.

Lacey snorted. “D’ja find some hot cowgirl chick when you were rodeo managing or somefin’?”

“Well, no-”

“What, she got bigger boobs then me?”

Kaine groaned. Lacey giggled, then reached to the right and patted her boyfriend on the head.

“Ya know I’m just messin’ wit ya.”

Kaine hmmed. “I know.”

“So what is it really?”

Kaine looked up at her, eyes wide for a second. “Oh, nothing. Just- just a hypothetical question.”

Then Lacey frowned. “People allaways think I’m a dumb blonde, ’cause of the dumbass way I talk. But I’m no idiot.”

“Of course you aren’t.”

“If you ain’t gon say anything, then I’ll say it for ya,” Lacey said, swerving the old Chevy to the side of the road and parking it there. “I told you, Kaine. I ain’t stupid.”

Kaine could hear the tears in her voice. She was doing her best to suppress them. His hands started to shake again.

“I know you have cancer,” Lacey began, and then she really did start to cry. “I was tryna prank you, put whipped cream in your socks an’ stuff, and then I saw the doctor’s report in the drawer. And then alla the times you complained you had a headache an’ stuff, and the times you felt dizzy- alla that made sense then.”

She hid her face in her hands. Kaine reached over and hugged her close. “Ya know you could told me about it,” she sobbed into his shirt.

“I didn’t want to hurt you,” Kaine whispered, voice shaky.

Lacey pulled away, looked straight at him. Her eyes were beginning to swell, but the indignation emanating from them was incomparable. “I’m not the one with frickin’ cancer.”

Kaine stroked her hair with a hand and offered a weak smile. “It’s not that bad, hun. The doctor said I might not even need chemo.”

“Don’t sugarcoat your bullshit, Kaine MacRaltek!” Lacey cried. “You and I both know that’s only ’cause you’re so far gone, the docs dun even know if treatment’s gonna do anyfin’!”

“Do you want me to die?”

“No,” mumbled Lacey, burying her head in Kaine’s chest. “And I hate to be the downer, but you’re gonna go some time or another. All I want ya to do is to be honest wit me.”

“I’m trying,” whispered Kaine, voice cracking. “I’m trying so hard,” he said, starting to cry.

“I know, baby,” Lacey hugged him tighter. “I know you are.” They stayed there like that, Kaine crying, Lacey holding him close.

Then, when Kaine’s sobs subsided, Lacey sighed, pulled herself off of him, and placed her hands back on the steering wheel. “You know I’m shit at romantics, at alla this comforting people stuff.”

“I know,” replied Kaine, rubbing his eyes.

“But you better damn well know I’m sticking wit ya through this.” Lacey shot him a fierce look. Kaine laughed, a little sad but a lot relieved. “I ain’t never leavin’ ya.”

“I know,” Kaine whispered, then leaned in and kissed her on the cheek. “Let’s go get some ribs.”


Word count: 879. First time trying the Finish It! prompts. The first paragraph was the prompt paragraph. I really just wrote this on a whim, so it’s largely unedited, but hopefully my intentions shine through the muck of grammar mistakes and redundant phrasing.

✪ Angie