Okay, it's been a while, but I went and did some flashy fiction yesterday, and I know how much you like it when I flash... you with fiction.
Prompt:
"Are you sure it's supposed to look like that?"
Mine:
"Is that the model from behind?" the kid next to me asked. He examined my painting and then the nude model lounging in front of the class.
"No," I said.
"Isn't that her butt, though?" Larry asked from the other side of me. "If that's meant to be her from in front, you aren't seeing what I'm seeing. Plus, you're using the wrong colors. Blue and green? It's like someone beat her with a stick."
"Are you sure it's supposed to look like that?" the girl in back of me hissed.
I rolled my eyes. Who cared about the model? She was plain and uninspiring. I was painting the beautiful girl in front of me... who was probably blocking her own painting of the model with her curvy, clothed form. Carissa turned to look at me. Her blue eyes tipped up slightly at the edges giving her an exotic look. Her red lips were puckered and looked like they wanted to be kissed. She smiled at me. I smiled back.
She took a step to the side, so I could see my own face looking back at me. She was painting me? Dipping her paint brush into the flesh tones... she painted, "443-8974 Call me" just below my chin.
I snatched my pen up, wrote it on my palm, and a moment later, a brush stroke obliterated the words--but not the satisfied smile on her face.
"No," I said.
"Isn't that her butt, though?" Larry asked from the other side of me. "If that's meant to be her from in front, you aren't seeing what I'm seeing. Plus, you're using the wrong colors. Blue and green? It's like someone beat her with a stick."
"Are you sure it's supposed to look like that?" the girl in back of me hissed.
I rolled my eyes. Who cared about the model? She was plain and uninspiring. I was painting the beautiful girl in front of me... who was probably blocking her own painting of the model with her curvy, clothed form. Carissa turned to look at me. Her blue eyes tipped up slightly at the edges giving her an exotic look. Her red lips were puckered and looked like they wanted to be kissed. She smiled at me. I smiled back.
She took a step to the side, so I could see my own face looking back at me. She was painting me? Dipping her paint brush into the flesh tones... she painted, "443-8974 Call me" just below my chin.
I snatched my pen up, wrote it on my palm, and a moment later, a brush stroke obliterated the words--but not the satisfied smile on her face.
Prompt:
"Life being what it is, one dreams of revenge." -Paul Gauguin
Mine:
Slapping the brick from Edgar's hand, Allen said, "What are you doing?"
"You slept with my wife. I'm walling you into this sidewall... just like in this book I'm reading," Edgar said.
"You git! You can't wall a conscious person up into a brick wall. They have to be unconscious. Do you expect me to just stand here while you're building a wall around me?"
Edgar nailed him in the head with the next brick. Allen dropped in a heap.
"Good point, Allen. This'll be much easier," he said, starting a fresh layer of bricks and dipping his trowel in the cement. "Much easier."
"You slept with my wife. I'm walling you into this sidewall... just like in this book I'm reading," Edgar said.
"You git! You can't wall a conscious person up into a brick wall. They have to be unconscious. Do you expect me to just stand here while you're building a wall around me?"
Edgar nailed him in the head with the next brick. Allen dropped in a heap.
"Good point, Allen. This'll be much easier," he said, starting a fresh layer of bricks and dipping his trowel in the cement. "Much easier."
Prompt
Mine:
"He's going out again," Travis said, gesturing at the back window.
"Hush up, Travis," his mother said.
"Gramps has cracked, Mom. We both know it. He should be in a home or something." Travis chewed on a wad of gum. He'd replace it with tobacco when he was out of the house, but this would have to do with his mom around.
"I think it's sweet." His mother washed out the remainder of the breakfast dishes while gazing out at her father. "It's only been a year."
"Yeah, but he goes out there, sits in that chair, and talks to her like she is sitting in a chair next to him. It's weird enough having that chair out back," Travis said.
"It's not hurting anyone."
Travis rolled his eyes and pushed through the back screen door of the ancient farmhouse, striding toward the chair.
As he approached, he could hear his grandfather say, "No, Nell, the boy will be fine. You'll see."
His grandfather was deaf as a post and didn't hear Travis's feet in the grass as his grandson crept up.
"Nell, are you sure he is the one killing the chickens?" his grandfather asked.
Travis stopped and stared. He and his friends had snagged a few of his grandfather's chickens a couple nights back. There was no way that his grandfather could know that. Still, there was no way his dead grandmother was sitting in a chair beside him telling him this stuff. Was there?
Looking at the ground, he noticed a patch of dead earth to the side of the chair his grandfather sat in. It was as if something was blocking the sun from that spot of grass. Grandpa Troy was too frail to move the chair. Still, if it wasn't Grandpa Troy's chair killing the ground beside it... whose was it?
Travis turned around and strode back to the house.
"You're right," he told his mom. "It's nothing."
"I told you," she said,smiling over her shoulder. Dropping the dishcloth to the side of the sink, she asked in concern, "What's wrong, Travis? You look like you've seen a ghost."
"Hush up, Travis," his mother said.
"Gramps has cracked, Mom. We both know it. He should be in a home or something." Travis chewed on a wad of gum. He'd replace it with tobacco when he was out of the house, but this would have to do with his mom around.
"I think it's sweet." His mother washed out the remainder of the breakfast dishes while gazing out at her father. "It's only been a year."
"Yeah, but he goes out there, sits in that chair, and talks to her like she is sitting in a chair next to him. It's weird enough having that chair out back," Travis said.
"It's not hurting anyone."
Travis rolled his eyes and pushed through the back screen door of the ancient farmhouse, striding toward the chair.
As he approached, he could hear his grandfather say, "No, Nell, the boy will be fine. You'll see."
His grandfather was deaf as a post and didn't hear Travis's feet in the grass as his grandson crept up.
"Nell, are you sure he is the one killing the chickens?" his grandfather asked.
Travis stopped and stared. He and his friends had snagged a few of his grandfather's chickens a couple nights back. There was no way that his grandfather could know that. Still, there was no way his dead grandmother was sitting in a chair beside him telling him this stuff. Was there?
Looking at the ground, he noticed a patch of dead earth to the side of the chair his grandfather sat in. It was as if something was blocking the sun from that spot of grass. Grandpa Troy was too frail to move the chair. Still, if it wasn't Grandpa Troy's chair killing the ground beside it... whose was it?
Travis turned around and strode back to the house.
"You're right," he told his mom. "It's nothing."
"I told you," she said,smiling over her shoulder. Dropping the dishcloth to the side of the sink, she asked in concern, "What's wrong, Travis? You look like you've seen a ghost."
Prompt:
Misfortune shows those who are not really friends.
-- Aristotle (384 BC - 322 BC)
Mine:
I answered the door, dressed in a panda suit. My date looked at me in shocked disbelief.
"Uh, Faith, what's with the panda suit?"
I didn't even look like a real panda. I looked like a giant child's stuffed animal There was no mask, but the hood on my head conveyed that I wasn't just dressed in an unflattering black and white jumper. No, I was a panda.
"What?" I asked, plastering a confused look on my face.
"Uhh... the bear thing," he said, gesturing at my outfit.
I looked down. In the distance, I could hear my roommate run into the bathroom before she could ruin this by laughing.
I shook my head while narrowing my eyes. "Are you feeling okay, Billy?"
"You're wearing a panda suit!" he said.
Keeping my face straight, I said, "No... I'm not."
"YOU ARE." He gestured at me again before running a hand through his hair. "I can't take you out dressed like that."
"Dressed... like... what?" I asked.
"LIKE THAT!" He groaned. "Look... just go change. We can still make the movie if you hurry."
I narrowed my eyes. "You can't tell me what to do."
He stormed off toward his jeep just as a ratty old Cadillac waited for him to exit the driveway. A moment later, a new guy appeared at my front step. He took in my outfit in a glance.
"Cool. Do I get one too?" he asked.
I unzipped the panda suit and pulled it off to reveal my actual attire. I fluffed my hair, saying, "That thing was hot."
Betty stuck her head around the corner. "He didn't run off."
"No. I'd say my portion of the forfeit is fulfilled," I said.
"Yep, next time bet on the Saints, bubs," she said. "I'll let bachelor number three know you're taken." She looked at my date for the night and said, "Hey, Luke, for the record... I was betting on you."
Luke smiled and said, "I'm a little disappointed that the Panda costume came off."
I winked at him and said, "Honey, it was bound to come off sooner or later tonight."
"Uh, Faith, what's with the panda suit?"
I didn't even look like a real panda. I looked like a giant child's stuffed animal There was no mask, but the hood on my head conveyed that I wasn't just dressed in an unflattering black and white jumper. No, I was a panda.
"What?" I asked, plastering a confused look on my face.
"Uhh... the bear thing," he said, gesturing at my outfit.
I looked down. In the distance, I could hear my roommate run into the bathroom before she could ruin this by laughing.
I shook my head while narrowing my eyes. "Are you feeling okay, Billy?"
"You're wearing a panda suit!" he said.
Keeping my face straight, I said, "No... I'm not."
"YOU ARE." He gestured at me again before running a hand through his hair. "I can't take you out dressed like that."
"Dressed... like... what?" I asked.
"LIKE THAT!" He groaned. "Look... just go change. We can still make the movie if you hurry."
I narrowed my eyes. "You can't tell me what to do."
He stormed off toward his jeep just as a ratty old Cadillac waited for him to exit the driveway. A moment later, a new guy appeared at my front step. He took in my outfit in a glance.
"Cool. Do I get one too?" he asked.
I unzipped the panda suit and pulled it off to reveal my actual attire. I fluffed my hair, saying, "That thing was hot."
Betty stuck her head around the corner. "He didn't run off."
"No. I'd say my portion of the forfeit is fulfilled," I said.
"Yep, next time bet on the Saints, bubs," she said. "I'll let bachelor number three know you're taken." She looked at my date for the night and said, "Hey, Luke, for the record... I was betting on you."
Luke smiled and said, "I'm a little disappointed that the Panda costume came off."
I winked at him and said, "Honey, it was bound to come off sooner or later tonight."
Oh my, you have a gift for flash. The one with grandpa was sweet as can be. And the panda suit? Hahaha! Who comes up with that? Brilliant. What a beautiful way to weed out the wrong bachelors.
ReplyDeletePure awesomeness. *pats chair* Come sit by me:)
ReplyDeleteI love the panda one. Crazy bets always make for awesome fiction :) And I agree with Carolina, you have a gift for flash.
ReplyDeleteLove your flash. I'll have to give it a try sometimes. It looks fun!
ReplyDelete