#fff50

[flashfictionfridayofficial]

Get the Fireworks started!🎆 🎇🎆 Get some Cake! Because it’s Celebration Time! 🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉

Today marks the 50th Flash Fiction Friday! 🎁

Never heard of Flash Fiction Friday before? No problem, stranger. The collective is here to help you with everything you need to know to participate

So what is FlashFictionFriday on our blog all about? It’s a fun writer-event that’s meant to inspire, share and connect writings of all genres and writers of all ages. It’s designed to make people want to write, especially if they’re feeling blocked. Everyone and everything is welcome!

We always do our very best to keep the prompts genre open, entertaining, positive and encouraging.✨✨✨✨✨

Write between 100-1000 words. It also can be a fan fiction or poetry entry. Just tag fan fiction and 18+ stories accordingly.

Use this Friday’s theme in your text. Any way you see fit.

Post on your Tumblr blog and remember to tag us at @flashfictionfridayofficial!! So we’ll see it, read it and reblog it!!

Deadline is 24 hours after the prompt has been issued on Saturday at 12pm CET

And then next Friday we’ll mention your work in a showcase post on our main blog before the next prompt drops.

If you have a question, check out or super brand new FAQ page! If your question isn’t on there, don’t hesitate to ask! <3

You don’t need to ask for permission or need to get added to a list. Just write, have fun and don’t forget to tag us.

Please post your entries as regular post and don’t screenshot them. We try to keep things as accessible as possible and screenshots don’t work for some people.

And most of all: Have fun with it.

If you’re bored and want to read splendid previous pieces, here is the link to the FFF library in this Google Docs document you can access freely at any time.

If you want to be closer to the epicenter, you can come chat on our open discord (we don’t bite! …usually!) And it is a good way to find more of other writers who participate. ✨✨✨✨✨

We do not condone fiction, asks or comments that contain: direct hostility, unconstructive critique, LGBTQIA+ hate, slurs, racism and/or general no-no behaviors.

Here come the wide-ranged, dangerous, and amazing flash fics of last week. 

In the Morning - by @inexorableblob

Lust of Steel – by @wolfishwrites

Mesmerizing Blade – by @houser-of-stories

The Dance – by @onceuponanaromantic

Mesmerizing Blade – by @littlefireflylove

Wondering – by @starlightswitch

Mesmerizing Blade – by @linariouswrites

Shining Glory, Dim Afternoon – by @starklyscifi

New Recruit – by @peggydreadful

The Mesmerizing Blade – by @shortlittlestorythings

A Sword That Strikes Twice – by @meteor-writes

Never Alone – by @itsokaytobefreak

Mesmerizing Blade – by @ifonlyicouldwrite

Mesmerizing Blade – by @fantasy-shadows

Mesmerizing Blade – by @crazycoffeemermaid

Strange Encounter – by @pheita

Mesmerizing Blade – by @kentwrites

Shock and Awe – by @snow-rosie

Mesmerism – by @ellatholmes

Magic – by @writingamongthecoloredroses

Beautiful Stranger – by @soul-write

Thank you everybody for participating !!! If we missed any entry last week let us know and send us a message.

And now our way to celebrate. The collective got extra creative for you and we have not one, not two, not three but FOUR prompts ready for you. 🎁 You can pick which one inspires you the most and go ahead. Feel inspired for two or more? No problem! Share it with us. But don’t feel pressured to do all of them. It is an opportunity, not mandatory. You can also mix and match all of them in one story if the muses want you to. Just do whatever the creative mind of yours make out of it. So here we are, friends of the flashy things

What makes an unusual concoction? Why does someone goes mouth to mouth? What is shattered sunshine made of? And why is something all smoke and mirrors? Let us know and don’t forget to tag us! And now get some cake and write like there is no tomorrow!🖌️🖌️🖌️

The Collective✨✨✨✨✨

THE FFF TAGLIST

 @purpleshadows1989 @cirianne @shadowlostinacrowdofpeople @kainablue @mushwrites @pen-for-sword @writingwordsanddrawingpictures @goblin-writer @writingonesdreams @jojoscoffeeandwriting @every-book-has-a-secret @jess---writes @hipster-merchant-of-death @scripturientworld @morganwriteblr @bookenders @livvywrites @inexorableblob @books-andbiscuits @thewordsinthesky-andstars @bookish-actor @anthonylora @eluari @alexwillow @anaestheticdisaster @procrastinatingwriter05 @socialmediasocrates @innocentreticent @chaos-writing @smudged-glasses-writing @sunlight-and-starskies @anthonylora @rhikasa 

[enchanted-lightning-aes]

The Nifty Elixir 

A/N: Something original for today^^. IDK how this story even formed, but I’m glad it did. zero angst here. Just a silly tale about. . . potions. :3

Word Count: 597

TW: None

***

Crows are cawing with their shrill calls, perched on a sloped roof. A visible suspension of blue air oozed out from a red chimney. Beneath it, a fireplace sizzles while air passes onto a track above. They flap their wings, slightly bewildered by what is that.

In the center of a room, a sorceress closes an ancient spell book. She slides off her chair to check in on with her experiment.

From listening to a friend's advice, she decided to concoct a potion that might aid her in an important task of hers. Maybe this can turn out decently.

A cauldron brews red smoke with an invigorating scent. Then she glances at bubbles fizzing on crimson liquid. It stirs on it's own she discovered upon acquiring it. Once she detects it finishes, she uses an iron ladle to extract a scoop of it. It doesn't burn through. She blinks because she expected it to do that.

And while potions aren't her main specialty, she's aware of essential facts about it.

She pours the potion into a small vial and shake it until it's color changes into lavender.

Operation is a success, she thinks, covering it with a cap.

When she cleans those used ingredients from the work table, she discards them into a bin. She wipes soot from her shabby torso and pants before dusting her hands.

Curtain flap in a chilly breeze while window panes clap.

The sorceress takes a look at a guide written in a scroll once more:

Two teaspoons of lemon

One dash of sunflower seeds

A bucket of warm water

Five pieces of mint

And a piece of rosemary

She followed it carefully, thinking it can actually work.

An exuberant energy courses through her veins and she keeps the potion in a satchel. She fetches a long cloak from a cabinet, putting it over her head. Once she carries the satchel with her, she gets out of her study room. She ambles up into a staircase, proceeding to the first floor. She arrives at a front door and pulls it open.

Sun's bright within the peach-colored sky, nearly hidden behind a line of fuzzy clouds. She walks down on a long trail, whistling to a tune. Birds are singing and playing in a fountain, where water shines from light above.

In the back of a quaint cottage, numerous trees, plants, flowers fill a wide spot. Thriving as if turning into a forest. A garden blessed with forces of nature.

When the sorceress reaches to a little patch of emptiness, she digs into the soil. She pours a dash of the potion then covers it up again. Next, she approaches a limp plant with sagging leaves. She siphons another trickle of potion, lavender liquid slipping into a leaf.

Some plants in this garden are having trouble to grow, so she sought for a method to fix it. Her friend, a witch, told her about making a potion with unusual effects that she didn't heard of before. And it was no hardship to search for right components to do it.

Taking a step back, she begins waiting for results.

The patch sprouts with a string of weeds bursting from the soil, followed by a root straggling across over to cover the brown ground.

In a matter of moments, the sagging plant aligns itself. Another pair of leaves grow at sides of it's thin stem. Hmm, not bad for an unusual concoction. It did this task, surpassing her initial expectations for it by surprising her.

Preoccupied by results of success, the sorceress smiles at herself.

***

[sweetcatmintea]

Ms Myrtle’s Garden

Hello hello! I’m back after a million years ^u^ It’s @flashfictionfridayofficial‘s 50th promptiversary today so I really wanted to try and participate. Writing has been less than stella lately but I finally had an opportunity to explore an idea I’ve had for a while. It’s more of an atmospheric piece than an actual story but I hope you enjoy nonetheless! Feedback is always appreciated 💜💜

Prompts: Smoke and Mirrors | Unusual Concoction | Shattered Sunshine Words: 1140

---

Dearest Olivia,

Though the distance between us is great, the moments between my thoughts of you dwindle by the day.

How was that, pretty Pride and the Prejudice right? I’m only messing with you Ollie. Theatrics aside, I miss you so much! I can’t wait until we see each other again. If nothing else, at least this “studying abroad” thing has allowed us to realise our lifelong dreams of writing long winded letters with homoromantic subtext and sending them across the ocean to an eagerly awaiting recipient. (Yes, I know all of the good opportunities the pamphlet listed; I’m being dramatic!) Just kidding about the subtext though. (Or am I ou<~*)

I’m still reeling from your last letter! There’s no way you really bunked with a ghost! That’s terrifying. You may laugh and play it off as nothing, but I would have jumped ship and swam home if that was me. Though, you always have been the braver of us so I’m sure you’ll indulge me and forgive my reaction. Just say the word and I’ll jump on the first plane and come rescue you! A la a redeemed antagonist proving their worth.

Honestly, it hasn’t been too exciting over here in my little corner of the world. I paid Ms Myrtle a visit yesterday, so I’ll tell you about that. (Ms Myrtle says hi!) I’ve been working on restocking new blends for the store and figured it would be nice to take some over for Ms Myrtle to sample. I feel kind of bad for her, y’know? She doesn’t get many visitors these days. I think the children are all too scared of her.

It was cold, oddly so for this time of year, when I arrived. Her front yard is as immaculate as ever, though I’m not sure I’ve ever actually seen anyone tend to it. Maybe it’s just the perfect level of overgrown that everything looks nice simply because the plants are healthy? I don’t know, I digress. It took a few minutes of shivering and waiting for her to answer once I’d knocked on the door, but soon enough, she greeted me with a warm smile and welcomed me in.

“Oh, hello dearie! It’s so lovely to see you again.” The way she talks is so cute.

Camembert, like the stinky cheese he is, took one disinterested look at me and trotted off on whatever cat business he had planned. Probably off to eat someone’s beloved pet. I’m not sure there’s a single person in the block who doesn’t have a personal vendetta against him. It’s practically a childhood right of passage. I know your dad still hasn’t forgiven him for Captain Bubbles’ murder. Still, we could be friends if he’d just let me love him.

Right, staying on topic.

The incense hit me as soon as I passed the threshold, thin plumes of smoke wrapping themselves through the air of the living room, following as we passed through to the kitchen. It wasn’t unpleasant. It never is. But it certainly gives her home a particular presence. A nostalgia rattle. She still keeps the house dim, like even the lamps know they are in an old person’s home and want to be as stereotypical as possible. She led me into the kitchen, flicking on the kettle with shaky carefulness.

“What wonderful concoction have you brought me today, sweetheart?”

I laughed, awkwardly playing off the compliment like it doesn’t absolutely make me blush every time. Because it doesn’t. Don’t smirk, I can feel it from here.

“Nothing too unusual today, Ms Myrtle,” I said, passing her the box, “It’s a rose-almond blend. Black tea base so it should be pretty forgiving for beginners. I was wondering what you thought of the flavour? I think something’s missing but can’t place it. Although, any excuse to visit you is always a good one.”

“Oh ho ho, you flatterer.” She set the mix to brew, smiling airily all the while. “Everything you do is so clever! I’m sure the tea is just wonderful.” Beckoning me to follow, she ambled to the back door. “It’s rather nippy in here, let’s enjoy this outside. Maybe we will be lucky enough to catch the afternoon sun.”

If the front yard is homey and inviting, the back garden is whimsically sweet to the point of toothache. Thick, lush foliage, a thousand flowers blooming no matter the season, windchimes that were little more than mirrored shards hanging from the trees and shattering sunshine across the grass in every colour imaginable. Her garden is so wonderful, I really wish I could enjoy it more. I never could get past the little bells though. There has to be hundreds of them by now. I don’t know, something about seeing all of those little strings poking out of the ground… You know what I mean.

We spent the afternoon sitting together, sipping tea, and chatting about this and that. I talked about the store and my ideas for future mixes. Ms Myrtle suggested adding vanilla to the rose blend. I think I’ll try that. She talked about how proud she was of me (and you) for growing into ‘such fine young ladies’, and that she’s been rather into baking lately and would be so happy if I’d take some rosemary bread home with me. I accepted of course. We spoke about her partner and the war they were in. More the dancing whenever they came home side of it than the fighting side. I still don’t know which war they served, but I don’t think anyone really does so what else is new.

The windchimes quietly sang the entire time. Despite the vitality of the garden, there’s still this all-encompassing stillness about it. No bugs sitting on the rim of our teacups, no lizards basking, no rustling in the bushes. I can’t help but wonder, are the chimes a cover? Did Ms Myrtle notice? Does it distract her from the absence of birds?

Despite the twinkling and the dancing rainbows refracting around us, a muffling shadow crawled over us, a stiff breeze running shivers up my spine and agitating the chimes. Our visit was cut short by the ring of Camembert’s bell. In her polite and dottering way, Ms Myrtle ushered me out the door, depositing a loaf of bread into my arms and requesting I visit again soon. I can only imagine her cat caught another unfortunate creature. I watched as Ms Myrtle sighed, took up as trowel, and disappeared back towards the garden, smiling all the while. I left as Camembert’s bell was joined by those of the safety coffins.

That was that. Nothing too out of the ordinary. It may have only been yesterday but I demolished that bread. You’re really missing out haha! Anyway, write again soon!

Miss you, love ya,

Your bestie,

Wren.  

---

Tag list

@snobbysnekboi, @inkovert, @kainablue, @i-rove-rock-n-roll , and @goblin-writer

---

This is supposed to have an unsettling atmosphere. I’m not sure if it comes through or not. I’d love to know what you think!

[nenestansunsthings]

@flashfictionfridayofficial

it's the 50th flash fiction friday! i haven't written for these in a while, but we had four whole prompts this week and i really liked one of them. and i had a story i wanted to rewrite, if i can find the notebook it was in. so...

anyway, let's start! the prompt i'm using for now is-

[[MORE]]

.

There is light, a blinding, burning light, through every shard and fractal of his inhuman body. There is a scream sharp in his ears, in the bone-dry hollow of his throat where he can't reach. There's nothing, nothing past that.

It's only faintly that William realizes he's fallen to the ground.

A boot crunches down on his hands, where he was still scrabbling desperately against the sand, and the scream cracks along with the glass of his fingers. He doesn't think he'll ever be used to that sound, even after his body has lost all humanity. The god that made him this way growls, digging in their heel harder. He can't see past the blinding light.

"Did you think you could get away with this?!" Emil demands, their clarion voice ringing out like a trumpet. It's not the same soft, human one they'd used talking to their family, and talking to him in the quiet of night. "Did you think you could get ả̵̟͙͂̔̒̌̈̄͝ẅ̵̬̱̫̂a̴̭͇͔̹͉͔̋̆͑͊͛̾͘ÿ̷̨̢͍̦͎̫̳͙̘̙?! I've given you everything! I've given you more than you ever dared to hope for! And yet you still try to ḷ̴̨̼̙̖͎͔̮͗̎̇͐̕ë̸̳̭̫͓͇́̾̀͠a̸̛̪͎͎̔͗̍̀̃̇́͝v̴̼̪̈́͌̈́̉́̇͗̚͠ͅe̸̛̖̦̠̒̔̉!"

William forces himself to breathe. It comes in shaky, unstable in the sandstorm swirling around them. He can still feel the pain of it whipping into him. He doubts Emil's ever been able. "Please-" he chokes out, "please, no, stop-"

"You b̵̧̢̲̱̞̓͋̍̈̑̊͐̒͘é̴̬̘̻̲̘̗̣́̋̓̕͠t̶̨̟͔͍́̂̀r̵̢̳͚̹͔̰̽͂̐a̴̧̤̗͎̞̳̹͍͓̓̈́ỳ̵̧̱̳̣͖̰͍̼̞e̸̡̧̱͓̝̥͆͐̇̂̿̓́͝͝d̷̲̗̬̻͚̥̆ ̶̢̝̻͇̦̜̄̊̃̐̽́͋̚ͅm̴̧̺̼̓̀̅e̶̬͎̼͂̒͜!" Emil screams, all the fury of the sun being born bright in their whole being, "a̶̧͗ṅ̷̯d̴̥̐ ̵̛̖ȳ̷̭ö̸̯́ṷ̴̍ ̵͓̑t̷̙́h̴̜͑ì̵͍n̸̰͛k̶̺̅ ̶̜̓I̵̟̚'̸̠́m̴̼̏ ̶̜͊j̴̖̅ṳ̴̔s̴̩̈́t̵̰̐-̵̹͠ ̷͚́j̷̟͐u̷̦͘s̷̲̃t̷̛̺ ̴͚͊g̴̻̽ò̶̹i̷͛͜n̴̞̎g̷̤̑ ̷̰̒t̴͙͌o̵̞͋ ̴̧̈́s̷̢͋ț̸͛ö̸̗́p̵̹̐?̵̖̑ ̵̙̒Ṉ̴̔ò̵̼!̶̪̀ ̸̲̀Ẏ̵͈o̴̫͘û̴̧ ̶͍̃t̶̙͒ŗ̸̛ị̸̛ê̸̝d̶͇͒ ̶̡̛t̷͎̀o̸̙͒ ̷̼̈́l̶̦͐é̶͔a̵͖͝v̶̟̉e̴͓͝-̷̪͊!̶̬̈"

"Please, you're hurting me-!"

"- and you- you helped Adam ̵̠͝ĺ̷̥e̶̠͝a̸͔̒v̷̳̒e̵̻͑-̵̞̓!̷̝̕"

"Emil, you're breaking me!"

"G̴̛̣̠̯͈̲̟̖͖̟͉͚̏̾ͅö̵̻̬̩̗̳̙͍̫̞̩̳̀̈́̒͗̆͒̎͋ǫ̴̜̖͖͙͈̳͙̟͍̟͓̀̊͋̂̈́́̋̍̽̍͝ͅd̵͕̬̹̻̖̋̀̓̀̍͑͗͜!̶̧̢̡̱̼͎͍̥̳͉̗̱̺̰͈̜̼͆͒͗̇̔̄̃̍̋͋̓͋̌͆̓͘" The aridisol making up their body explodes outwards, enough that their form is barely humanoid anymore. Faintly, William can hear the terrified voices of the other townspeople, trying to take shelter from the dust storm. He tries to speak again and Emil shatters the glass of his legs.

"Emil!" Another voice cuts in through the storm, familiar and almost safe. Samuel Deke grabs Emil by the wrist, all the dust of him quickly absorbing the unbearable heat rising from his sibling. He doesn't seem to care. "Emil, leave him alone! He didn't do anything wrong-"

"H̶̛̜̑e̶̮͌̆ ̷̳͔̈́́ȉ̵̳̐s̴̬̾ ̷̭̤̈́̉ṭ̸̭͝͝r̷̙̟̅ẙ̵̘̀i̴͇̟̽͛n̴̛͚͒ĝ̸͚ ̸̢́t̵̤̦͊͘o̶̖̝̍ ̷͓̏ͅl̸̘̼͂e̷͍̋ǎ̸͍̽v̸̧̔ẻ̸̠ ̷̫̔̆m̴͉͕̀̚ẹ̵͖͑͗!̴̮͒" More shattering, this time in his shoulders. "I̸̼̍ ̴͓̆ď̸̦í̷̲d̸̙́ǹ̵̰'̴̭́t̴̡̆ ̶̘̑d̴̝̓o̵͖͛ ̶̧͠a̸̤͘n̴̘͐y̷̤̌t̵̯̂h̶̠̾ī̷̫n̸̼͒g̸͙͝ ̸̤̾w̴̿ͅȑ̶̯o̸̝͘n̵̻̓g̸̹̚ ̴̯̅Í̴͖ ̴̤̇d̶̺̕i̵͔̋d̵͙̃ ̴̟͠e̶͎̅v̶͎̀e̶̤͝r̶͙̒y̷̧͠t̷̺̋h̷͙̎i̴̫̒n̷͚̄g̴̢͐ ̶̪͂r̴̦͘ì̴̥g̶͈̿h̶͉́t̸̝̕ w̸͈̜̝͛h̴̨̡̰̊͌̈͆͆͝y̷̧̼͙͓̘̝̒ ̶̲͕̗̭͍̓̄̽i̷̧͉͎̫̾̀̾s̷̛̙ ̴̧̠͎̰͐͐͛͘ḩ̸̢̻̘̒̊̀̑̿̉͜ͅe̵̱̰̣̰͓͉̓ ̷̥̞̺̟̼̉͜t̴̡̻̰̘͓̪̀r̶̝͌y̷̛̽̊̚̚ͅi̸̭̤̦̮̬̟͌̔͂̑͗͝n̵̝̩͊g̵͖̹̪̈́̈́̈́ ̴̢̧̦͔̗̤͌̓͌t̶̗͈͓̏̀͒̇͛̔o̵̰̖̺͑͠ ̷͉̣̟̾̄̈͗͒̍l̶̨̦̫͇̜̓͝e̵̠̘̟̼̐̅̋ḁ̷̥͖̱͖͆͠v̶̘̥̂̄̎̓͘é̸̺͍̞̍̽̈͘ͅ ̴̧̮̮̣̋͂̂̏͋̌ḿ̴̺͎̘͕̺̄͗è̷̪͔?̸!"

"Emil, let him go!" There's a heavy crack, this one not in glass. The god of the town, the eye of the storm, the ever-burning sun- they freeze for a moment, the storm still as they register the crumbling soil of their cheek. The soil their brother hit.

"... S̶̘̋ǎ̶͚͛m̴̱̰̎u̴̞͔͐̀ȩ̷̢͂͝l̴̝̃͗."

"No! No, he- You can hit me, please, don't hurt him-"

"Who the hell do you think you are," Samuel snarls, their sand burning in the heat. "What right do you have to stop him? What right do you have to hurt him?"

"He's m̶͕͋į̸̺̽̊n̷̻͎̕é̴͓̙̇." Emil responds sharply. "As y̶̭̞͌̒ỏ̴̠̈́u̷͇̓ are. As t̵̪̭̑h̸̨̺̚ĭ̷̹s̵̜͐̈́ ̵̖̱̏͊t̶͎̄́ͅo̷̟̦̾w̴̰͓͛͆n̴̯͝͝ is. He's m̴̲̓̎ĭ̶̤͝ṋ̶̿͝ẽ̴̙̭̃, he's m̴̦͚͝ẻ̸̗͚, I've given him s̶͍̣̓ỏ̸̯͕̄ ̷̱̠̈m̴̭̌ủ̴͓c̸̟̤̈́͐h̴̖͌̋ ̵̬̈́̅o̸̢̮̓͘f̸͔̰̀̈́ ̸͍͕̆͛m̵̠̕ĕ̸̩̱- does he think he can j̷̐ͅú̵̋͜s̵͔̳̕t̵͕́ ̸̭͕̽t̴͕̊̑ḥ̸̩̂ȑ̶̠o̵̫̚w̴͈̋̕ ̴̹̚i̵̞̯̊t̷̰̑͘ ̷̞͉̆a̶̦̓l̸̙̬͒l̷̥̪̊ ̷͎͂ḁ̴̃͂ẃ̵͓̬͗â̸͎͇͌y̸̤͈̆̀?̶̤́!̴͎͛"

"He doesn't belong to you. None of us do." Samuel glares down at them. "Emil... Don't you love him? Don't you care about him? Why are you putting him through this?"

"Ö̷̟̪́f̸͚͋ ̴̰̯͝c̵̬̯̀̀o̶͇̼͋͝u̸̖̜͋́r̸̲͈̒s̶͖̻̈è̶͎͚ ̸̢̅̇I̷̡̛̓ ̷̭͋l̷̪͂o̷̖̖̊v̵̢̦̊ȇ̵̪ ̷̥͝ḥ̴͂i̶͉͗m̸͕͠!̴̺̕̚ ̷̧͙̊̿Ḯ̸͎̺͝t̸͕͙̃̈'̷̟̯̓͗s̵̆͜ ̶̙͋ẃ̸͎̰h̷͈̖̓͒y̸͚̾̅ ̴̩̒I̷̱͂ ̷̡̛̈́c̷͇͌́a̶̳̥͌̊ň̸̲'̷̧́t̶͉̆ ̶̯̳̾l̵̹̩̈e̸̘̾t̸̥͈͒̆ ̸͖̎̂h̵̢̯͒̈́i̶̙̲̔̅m̷̩͙͊̍ ̶̹̅̈́l̴̰͔̐͌ę̷̠̄̄ă̷̢v̵̟̦́ẽ̵͖͓!̵̮̦̀͌"

"Bullshit." Samuel doesn't react even as the flickering light of Emil returns to blinding. "You love having him. And if that's the only thing you care about then no fucking wonder William wanted to leave."

It is still night. But no-one would be able to tell with how bright it's become.

"... You're lying." Emil says. "I̵͇͝ ̵̫͕̎̎d̴̟͒̉ö̵̙́̈́n̷͔͈̋'̷̥͐́t̴̊̈́͜ ̵̱̳̉͊b̴͎̯̌̕e̴̜̖͂̋l̷̦̗̽̚i̵̬̐ĕ̸̜̦v̵͍̣̓ë̴̻́́ ̷̜͒̌y̴̛̟̺ö̵͎̗́̄u̴̺̥̐̀.̸͙͖́̚"

And that's the last William hears before the dust storm engulfs him completely, with nothing but burning sunlight to watch him be worn away.

[onceuponanaromantic]

The Departure of the Shining One

(Written for @flashfictionfridayofficial​‘s FFF50 prompt: Mouth to Mouth. Set in one of my previous universes, which has been gathering dust, Black Cat of Hearts. Enjoy!)

You watch her, knowing that she’ll never love you back.

             You bring her clothes and you tell her that her sister is waiting in the forest at moonrise, and you don’t know what that means. You don’t know but you have seen the clothes and you can guess where this is going. You can guess that she is going.

             She smiles at you and tells you that she’ll be down in a minute once she changes. She removes the mask and you think that her voice suits her. Her face suits her, all darkened skin and beautiful twisting braids framing it and her lipstick is smudged a little bit from where her mouth touched the champagne glass.

             You want to kiss her even as you know that the cost of doing so will be a bittersweet reminder that you’ll have to carry in your heart long after she’s gone. She doesn’t love you, not the way you love her. She’ll never even notice you even though she’s been the one person in this entire kingdom that you look up to with respect and admiration rather than grudging acknowledgment. She’s the one person who you would give your heart to, if she ever asked it. She will never ask.

             You smooth out your own dress and head downstairs to distract anyone who might be looking for her. It’s the least you can do for her, though you know that she is far more skilled at distracting and misdirection than you. It’s one of the reasons that you admire her. The rest of the ladies of the court require fancy jewellery and elaborate dresses to show off their status. She could walk in with nothing but a rice sack and still be the most elegant and impressive.

             She never talks about herself. She smiles at you and you don’t know how but suddenly you’re spilling your life story to her and you never realise till later that she’s not said a single thing about herself. You don’t actually know anything about her. You’ve seen her around, once or twice walking next to another girl who greatly resembles a slightly younger version of her. You think she’s her sister, except her sister’s hair is always a mess and there are stains on her fingers. Their eyes are the same, both shining gold in the dark, and they have the same high cheekbones. You wonder how many siblings she has.

             You’ve known that you’re in love with her for a long time.

             You know that it’ll never happen but you want her to get poisoned. You want her to get into some form of danger and pain and have her heart stop or something, something that would make her require your help for something. You know it’s selfish and a terrible horrible thought and you don’t want to think it at all, but you want her to be in danger and in pain and you want to her to need your exclusive help.

             On an objective level, you know it’ll never happen. You know that there are whispers in court that her sister is a scientist and her older sibling is a doctor and you wouldn’t even be the first person she calls upon if you need help. Also, if she’s survived in court for this long, she probably can identify poison on her own and has her own defences against it.

             You respect that, even as you wish your help was needed. You lie in bed sometimes and think about convoluted scenarios where she urgently needs help and you’re the only one who can give it. You think that you’ll straighten your arms, lock your elbows and pump her heart. You’ll draw the poison from her, press your mouth to hers and take it away from her.

             She’s wearing the clothes you brought for her and she inclines her head towards you as she sweeps past you on the dance floor. The expensive wooden tiling gleams under the light, a show of extravagance, as you wonder where her previous clothing has gone. But this is her. If anyone was capable of strange and wonderful things, it would be her.

             You’re the last person to see her, and she winks at you from the doorway. Her lips curve into a mouthed ‘thank you’ and she blows you a kiss, before swirling off into the night. You don’t know and you of all people know that that’s not how it works, but you imagine catching the kiss and pressing it to yourself in a soft embrace. You imagine that the kiss blown to you is the soft smile of her lips against yours.

             You pretend not to know what’s happened to her or her family a week later when the court finally realises that Iridesca Carrow has left.

[inexorableblob]

Thirsty or not?

For @flashfictionfridayofficial​ on this day, this day of the fiftieth celebration, of which I’ve done some of them, some in ways that satisfy me, some in ways that didn’t, but I’ve enjoyed a fair number of the ones I’ve read, and as for the ones I didn’t, well, I’m not going to say anything.

Part of this actually came from a dream I had this morning,  but in the dream it had the nerdy kid from Step-by-Step being my secret semi-step brother in that his mother had married my mother’s ex-husband, and I wasn’t going to tell him who I was, but I knew, I knew.  That just didn’t work for any of the prompts, and so I had to go with something that fits the obvious one because I had to fix the typo!  Hah!

Anyway, enjoy it if you can.

The line of students moved steadily, each child shuffling forward as their food was dished out onto their plastic tray.  Except for me.  I held my sack lunch tight in my hands.  No slimy vegetables, no gross fruity jello, no mystery meat, not for me.

I wouldn't even take the cup of water off the shelf at the end, but I had no choice.  I never drank it, the taste was horrible, yet the principal had insisted I needed to have something to drink if I was thirsty.  Small chance of that happening.  He'd be really upset if I told him what I really wanted.

I sat down at the assigned table for our class.  The girl beside me was new.  This was her first day, and she had the sandwich offered students whose parents were behind in payments.  She hadn't known the school wouldn't take money from her wallet.  We weren't supposed to have any, not after last year.  

"But I'm not supposed to eat cheese." she whimpered.  "And I don't like mayonnaise either."

I looked at her, with her brown hair tied up in little pink bows.  She was cute, but that wasn't why I did what I did.  I just couldn't stand the fuss she'd make.

I took out my sandwich, and put it on the tray in front of her.

"Here, take mine, it's fine.  I won't starve."

She smiled.  Pale lips and missing teeth, she still pretty.  I hated myself.  

I had to take a drink from my thermos.  It was still warm and fresh.

Freshly drawn this morning.  A mix of my favorite types.

[fields-of-ink]

[Image Description: two banners. The one on top has a black background with blue and red spots, the sentence #FFF50 Unusual Concoction is written in white letters in the middle. The second banner has a light pink background with rainbow-colored spots. The sentence #FFF50 Shattered Sunshine is written in black letters in the middle. End Image Description.]

Woo, 50th prompt! Congratulations on your milestone, @flashfictionfridayofficial​! Thanks for all you’ve done!

I had an hard time choosing this week. I mean, four prompts! In the end I chose two and this is the result.

Title: The Sun Tree

Warnings: None

"Oh, ugh. Zephyr, what on Atosk are you doing over there?"

The girl turned around, looking at her dismayed friend over the door. She was pinching her nose, her eyes watering. "Seriously", she mouthed. "What's this smell?"

"I'm sorry, Sorun", Zephyr chuckled, looking at the pot in front of her. "I know you don't like strong smells, but this is an important job."

"At least I hope it will be worth it."

"Absolutely. It's for the Tree."

"Do you think you can heal it?"

"You doubt me?"

"Well, no. But you know how it is."

Zephyr pouted, while she turned back to her bubbling pot.

                                                             - : -

The Sun Tree towered in the small cave. Its leaves glimmered in faint golden light, the trunk crossed by white lines. The tree deflated onto itself, curling up on the ground.

The cave's black walls reflected the faint light, a grayish mist pouring out of them, obfuscating the view.

The worshippers were kneeled beside the tree, desperate faces cupped in their hands, all of them jolting up at once when they heard the footsteps approaching. "The Magician has returned!" a whispered chorus of hope greeted Zephyr. "Do you have the medicine?"

"Worry no more, my friends", said the girl, rummaging in her bag. She took out a small bottle out of it, swirly green and yellow. The eyes of a worshipper lighted up: "Is this it?"

"I poured all of my knowledge into this", said Zephyr. "The Spirit of the Flora aided me in this job. I am positive it will work."

With a few shaky steps, the Magician approached the roots of the tree. They were frail and weak, white lines stuttering through them. Zephyr could hear the Tree whimpering under the curse of its stickness, and her hands trembled while she opened the bottle.

Please, please, she prayed. Let this work.

A few drops of the mixture crawled their way out of the bottle, until it all came down. The worshippers looked at the wet grass, swirly yellow lines slithering between the blades, until, like they had heard an invisible command, they approached the roots, envelopping them.

Zephyr's heart pounded in her chest, while she was looking at the leaves above. The air stood still. Zephyr was holding her breath, together with all the worshippers, their eyes up on the Tree's crown.

From the stillness of the sickness, the Tree started to move. The leaves moved upright, their light becoming stronger, golden like the sun.

The white lines crossing the trunk stopped stuttering, becoming stable and moving like an upwards river.

The Tree's colors seemed to become stronger, evaporating the gray mist, the black cave's walls becoming white.

The worshippers roared in delight and joy, while Zephyr fell on her knees, a smile on her face.

[enchanted-lightning-aes]

The Haunted Beast

A/N: Howdy, @flashfictionfridayofficial​, here’s my story for today’s prompt!! Congrats on the 50th milestone, y’all! Thanks for letting writers share their stories, and you for hosting these events! 🎉🎉🎉 This is my first time participating in this, so here’s a character study featuring Claude. (Here’s a visual for how she looks like) Word Count: 577 TW: smoking

***

A shadow hovered over a ground while a solitary figure stepped into a desolated area. Going past torn fabrics, battered surfaces, and broken wood, proceeding to a long path of a tarnished room.

Each item seemed to be destroyed by a ferocious monster, determined on unleashing it's anger. Nothing had been spared from it.

Cracking a grating laugh, she shook her head.

Melancholy kept her company, remaining loyal to her from the beginning. She glanced up at an intricate ceiling, unable to drag a hollow heaviness settling deep into her chest. With a lighter, she added a tiny spark of fire to the edge of a cigar.

It released some wafts of smoke and she puffed it, letting more out. Enough to get rid of an emptiness filling her up from within.

She stopped by a secluded corner, discovering a glassy facet staring back at her. It seemed to be a reflection, she thought, upon approaching it for a better look. She remained still, locking eyes with her own.

On a half-broken mirror attached to a grey brick wall.

Once upon a time, she had slammed her fist at this mirror, and punched it. Anger and rage consumed her as she concentrated on a rampage on objects in this ghost of a room.

Pulling the hood of her cloak back, she exposed lacerations across the right side of her face. She traced a line from her jaw to her chin with her bare scarred fingers, slightly shuddering at the sensation. The sight of it caused curiosity, pity, or revulsion from anyone daring to look at her. In cracks of a shattered mirror, she saw the person she had grown to be.

A person who realized the error of choices that she could never undo. A scarred face proved to be less horrific than those wrongs she committed. She didn't protest or deny it because the truth left her trapped in a cage.

Except Claude had enough time to move on from it. So, why was she miserable?

Emotions could be baffling because of it's persistence of just 'being' there. Some didn't have an explanation or reason for happening, therefore it astounded her mind relying on logic.

Adding fire to the tobacco again, she huffed more smoke out. A rage simmered beneath her blood, only to be dissolved by raw misery. It struck her with any warning. Going to this room might have been a terrible idea.

Smoke flurried into the air, nearly grazing upon the edged surface of a mirror. It created a little mist, blocking out her visage.

Lifting her hood on her head once more, she gazed off at a far-off distance.

She once despised to see herself on a reflection because she couldn't tolerate the sight while knowing how she had been before. Gradually, she had a long time learning how to accept her scars, consequences of her actions, and to truly acknowledge them without bitterness. To be a person capable of being better.

Building improvement as a person helped her more than she could ever be thankful for.

Tension gradually left her while she let out a deep breath, gaining a steady rate. Within her chest, an intense ache grew in spaces of her heart.

Before she pulled out the cigar, she began shaking extra smoke around. It gathered into the entire room, nearly fading fragments of the past.

Turning around, the beast teared her gaze off from shattered ruins of the mirror.

***