Hear the soft chimes calling all writers for ... Flash Fiction Friday!⚡⚡⚡⚡
No idea what Flash Fiction Friday means? Let us tell you!
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 our 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. 💕💕💕
You just heard of Flash Fic Friday and want to see the previous prompts to kick-start your writing? You are welcome, we released a list with all prompts of previous weeks. You can use them on your own will but we won’t reblog anything that wasn’t a missed entry from the previous week or are posts for the actual week. Anyway you are always welcome to share them in our sharing room on our Discord Server.
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.
Take your pen and paper. Switch on your PC.
Who has dreams of tomorrow? What are they? Are they a collection of dreams? Or something many people think of? Hod do they look like? Tell us and don’t forget to tag us!
My contribution to this weeks @flashfictionfridayofficial takes us back to a 25 year old Blake, not long after he was forced to sign the contract that destroyed his life and also brought him and Bethany together.
Total words: 540
A notification on the screen distracted Blake from his scrolling of Facebook, pulling him from his happy past and back into the depressive present.
It was a message from his boss, the first he’d heard from him since he’d been forced to sign his life away, and Blake really, really, did not want to open it.
He still couldn’t understand why this was happening to him. There were a heap of people out there with better combat skills and a more relaxed set of morals than he had, so why had his boss insisted on him instead of one of them? It wasn’t like the pay was shit: in fact it was great, far more than he could have ever hoped to make in the army, a fact which left him cold. With the state of his bank account there was no way anyone would ever believe he wasn’t doing what he knew was coming willingly.
A second notification popped up. I can do this, he told himself, even though all he wanted to do was throw the phone away. It’s a text. I just have to read it.
His hand shaking he clicked on the notification. His boss probably just wanted him to find something or something like that; after all, his boss had claimed it was a procurement role back when he tried to recruit him legitimately.
The contents of the messages made him drop his phone. His boss didn’t need him to find something and steal it, and he wasn’t planning on easing him into this new role. No, he’d been ordered to find someone and kill him.
Blake bolted to the bathroom, getting the lid of the toilet up moments before puking his guts up. Even in the army the idea of killing someone had always been a theoretical one, and a kill or be killed moment in battle at that. Planning it in advance… that was murder, no doubt about it.
With nothing left to bring up Blake grabbed the edge of the sink and pulled himself to standing, carefully avoiding looking in the mirror while he rinsed out his mouth. He couldn’t bring himself to look at himself, not wanting to acknowledge the man he was versus the man her was being forced to become. How the fuck was he meant to live with himself after this?
But he had to, he knew, otherwise he would fail before he even started, and he couldn’t allow himself to fail. Not with what was on the line. There was no other option.
Decision made he left the bathroom and collected his phone, reading through the instructions again before deleting the messages. He wasn’t sure why he did that - after all if he got caught they were proof he was being coerced, but considering what he was being blackmailed with he figured he was probably better off taking the fall than pointing the finger at his boss.
And then, with one last look at Facebook, he deleted the app from his phone. He needed to keep his head down and do as ordered, and take life one day at a time. Dreaming of the past wouldn’t help him, and dreams of tomorrow were for the free.
I was thinking about Jason’s death recently and then this prompt and some angst hit me in the face.There’s a little bit at the end directly quoting/referencing Batman: Under the Red Hood.
@flashfictionfridayofficial
Bruce choked on the sour, cloying scent of burnt hair and charred skin as he held his son in his arms, cradled close to his chest with all the care he could manage between the shivering grief crawling up his spine and the inconsolable rage building behind his ribs. He tasted acrid, burning bile on his tongue when he looked over his boy — cracked, blistering wounds, his uniform tattered almost beyond recognition, and his eyes... He swallowed, sucked in a shuddering breath, and so very gently reached up with one trembling, gloved hand to cup Jason’s cheek, hand curving around the shriveled mess of his ear and letting his fingers press into the wet tangle that remained of his hair.
There was no pained flinch when he made contact. No sound. Not so much as a glimmer of recognition in Jason’s dull, green eyes. Bruce’s own stung behind his cowl and he had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep the tears from spilling. To keep himself together for just a little longer.
“Jason,” he said and hated the way his voice shook. “Just hold on, son. Help is coming.”
Fifteen minutes, Alfred had said just moments before Bruce had watched the warehouse go up in flames. He just needed to keep Jason alive for fifteen minutes and then everything would be fine. He refused to believe there could be any other outcome, even as Jason’s breath rattled in his chest and the slightest shift pried a whimpering hiss from between his lips.
“Help is coming,” he repeated and swiped his thumb carefully under the red skin around one clouded, green eye.
“Dad.” Bruce held his breath. His vision blurred, wavering with a fresh wave of unshed tears. “Tomorrow,” Jason said, voice little more than a wrecked whisper.
“Don’t—”
“Tomorrow,” Jason repeated, each word causing him obvious pain as he ignored Bruce’s attempted interruption. “Let’s go. Out. Somewhere.” He struggled to breathe between words, using his whole body to draw in as much air as he could. “Somewhere fun.”
“Yeah?” Bruce swallowed down the lump in his throat, forcing his lips to quirk up into the smallest, tightest smile he could manage. “We haven’t done anything fun lately have we? Too busy.”
Jason tilted his head back, crown pressing into his chest and resting just below the black bat symbol. Bruce did his best to readjust his hold so he could pull his son a little closer, a little more securely into his lap like Jason was a child much younger than the one he’d found stealing tires in crime alley three years ago. He hated that this was all he could do, too scared of hurting him further by carrying him to the batmobile. Too terrified that any attempt to help would, somehow, make this worse — as if this weren’t already his greatest nightmare come to life.
“We’d bring Alfie. And Dick.” Jason’s words were starting to slur and Bruce could see his good eye drooping, the other already swollen shut. “Could go to. ‘quarium ‘r something.”
“Maybe the bookstore after,” Bruce added, trying to sound optimistic and failing miserably. “That. That new book you’ve been waiting for is releasing tonight. I had it ordered. A signed copy.”
“Yeah?”
“Yes.”
“You. Didn’t hafta. Bruce.” Jason coughed, bright, red, fresh blood whetting his lips.
“I wanted to,” he said, chest seizing. He held on a little tighter, as if that alone could stave off the earth-shattering outcome he could see playing out before his eyes. “What else do you want to do?”
Jason breathed. In. Out. Each one softer, fainter, than the last. Each one more of a struggle. Bruce’s stomach clenched, roiling unpleasantly the longer it took to get a reply.
“Fly.”
Bruce clenched his jaw, grinding his teeth when he noticed the wet sheen in Jason’s eye. The fear. Bruce leaned forward, as much as he dared, so the tip of his nose just barely brushed his son’s forehead.
“You will,” he said, firm. An order.
“Bruce?” He hummed, throat too tight to do much else. “This was. Best. ‘f my life. Y’know?”
He tensed, every muscle rigid under the Batman’s suit. He remembered, then, a much smaller Jason in a different costume. Excited. Vibrant. Whole and unhurt as he hoped up on the batmobile’s roof on his first night out as Robin. This is the best day of my life, he’d said with his hands on his hips, staring at Bruce with no inkling of this reality between them. No thought or fear of death. Only an endless road of dreams and possibilities.
“I know,” Bruce murmured, soft. Broken.
“I know,” he repeated, knowing there was no one left to hear him as he clutched his son’s cooling body closer.
Heyyyyyy here’s another piece (this time prose, hecking finally) for @flashfictionfridayofficial magical prompts
This time I wrote through the eyes of who is becoming my comfort oc, aka my paladin tiefling Moriarty from our dnd campaign, and tried to describe his relationship with his oath goddess and what he hopes for (an happy ending with friends and his beloved).
Hope you’ll enjoy!
p.s I wrote with this song in mind: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ITBLMe-Dh6M (also cited some of the lyrics)
Word counter: 328
In my tomorrow, I used to see images of newfound glory, respect. Me, striding in the city which would have refused me, with my head held high, acclaimed. The light caressing my face, my hair flowing in the wind, no more hiding. Loved for what I am, for who I would have been. A hero with demonic blood in his veins.
They didn’t even give me time to prove it. They refused me.
Aren’t these the same dreams I shared to you last night, Goddess? What did you really saw?
Tell me, why do I keep fighting?
Closing my eyes now, Your gentle voice in the starry night guiding me.
I can see it.
Everything is so calm. No more fighting. No more hiding.
Is this a garden? We’re having breakfast, it seems. We?
I’m having a cup of tea, still hot, when I feel a hand in my hair, a kiss on the cheek, the little fangs tickle me.
I see Keith’ smiling face, he brought me another plate full of scones, freshly made, and winks at me.
Nozomi sleeps peacefully under an apple tree, a flower crown lies on her fluffy head. She seems bigger than I remember.
I squeeze more my closed eyelids, now I see ruby red curls, Yugil is asking me something about the tea, I think, I can’t really hear what; I turn my head, I see Drest, with his mouth already full of cake, compete with Nym for another slice. I can’t hear very well what Nym shouts at Drest, something funny for sure. All seems so distant, so padded.
But everything is so calm. So peaceful.
I’m at home. Safe.
Loved.
Is this just a dream? A vision?
Tell me, Goddess, is this my future?
Or just another dream to accompany me until the sun will rise again?
In these twilight hours, I will patiently wait for what You left for me. Until then, I’ll share my burden with You.
My entry for @flashfictionfridayofficial this week.
Days bleed into nights
That fade into dreams of tomorrow
My body is weary
My eyes are tired
Still I continue my fight
In hopes of finding a day
When everything will feel right.
The dreams of tomorrow keep me going, keep me hopeful
They give me comfort for a better day
For most days I feel completely alone, you see
Most days I walk around in a daze
And this is because, a long time ago,
I think I lost my way.
But I keep these feelings to myself
Because I don’t like to complain
People have their own problems
And I don’t want to add to that
But sometimes, I wish desperately
That someone would see through the veil
Pull me in their arms
And tell me that it’s okay
That I can let it go
That everything will be better
Someday.
I wrote about my own OC, Maes, from one of my WIPs. His perspective is very different from the rest of my characters.
Bonnie is naïve. She’s too trusting, too sweet.
Don’t get me wrong, I love my sister, but her views to me, are just all wrong. Why be complacent in a place where you obviously don’t belong? Why let any authority walk all over you, and tell you what you should become?
We differ in that way, me, and Bonnie. She lets the king tell her what to do, and I tell the king what I’m doing and when I’m doing it. He’s not king over me and he never will be.
I hate to slander her words, but Bonnie still has generic, cookie-cutter dreams for tomorrow. Her mind runs rampant with ideas of what she’ll do once she’s free from here, once she’s lost the suffocating grip of her parents. Little does she know, when I become King, things will take a turn in my favor.
See I have my own dreams for tomorrow; ones that are more realistic and much more liberating. When I have total power, I can have anything that I desire. There would be no more pining and restless daydreaming, because all my dreams will come true before I can even snap my fingers. To be feared, to be obeyed, to be in power is more liberating than any fairy tale dream Bonnie could ever create.
Everyone has dreams, right? I can’t blame anyone for finding what they truly desire while their asleep at night. But some dreams are more…. right than others. The dream, the ideology, the desire is right when you get what you want, and you break free of chains bound tightly.
When I become King, things will definitely change; and I believe that our lovely ruler, now, has seen the last of his days.
