Flash Fiction Challenge: Rescue

PishTraxWe had deliberately steered our crippled stardisc to this remote area to avoid any casualties among the native population.

It is a frightening thing to crash on an alien planet. My shipmates, Xax and Xenu, were badly injured. I was hopelessly pinned in the wreckage.

Our only hope lay with the small white quadruped who saw us fall. I sent my thought-waves to him.

I am called Xuru. We are hurt. We need your assistance.

He sent thought-waves in response. I am called Mr. Pish. I will bring the others.

Now I wait in the cold, staring at the tracks he left behind. It is not until the blackness envelops me that I hear the distant sound of a party approaching…

In 250 words or less, tell us a story incorporating the elements in the picture. The 250 word limit will be strictly enforced.

Please keep language and subject matter to a PG-13 level.

Use the comment section below to submit your entry. Entries will be accepted until Tuesday at 5:00 PM Pacific Time.

On Wednesday afternoon, we will open voting to the public with an online poll for the best writing entry accompanying the photo. Voting will be open until 5:00 PM Thursday.

On Friday afternoon, the winner will be recognized as we post the winning entry along with the picture as a feature. Then, at year end, the winners will be featured in an anthology like this one. Best of luck to you all in your writing!

Entries only in the comment section. Other comments will be deleted. See HERE for additional information and terms.

Author: Administrators

All Indies Unlimited staff members, including the admins, are volunteers who work for free. If you enjoy what you read here - all for free - please share with your friends, like us on Facebook and Twitter, and if you don't know how to thank us for all this great, free content - feel free to make a donation! Thanks for being here.

6 thoughts on “Flash Fiction Challenge: Rescue”

  1. She’s sick. She suffers a gluttonous Cancer.

    Late in the fifteenth century Cancer had ravaged Europe. It discovered a distant unspoiled land and stuck a banner in the ground claming all for god and country. Four centuries later this Cancer’s manifest destiny and its gold sickness proved stronger than Earth Mother and her children. To the victor go the spoils.

    Mother Earth grieves for warrior-superheroes to initiate her rehabilitation healing.

    “Few listen. It’s too little too late,” thunders wind and lightning. “Ahhh, for a time portal and a hurricane that’ll sink in mid-ocean Spain’s three ships, Pinta, Nina and Santa Maria.”

    Ignoring what’s left of Earth, cancer seeks other planets taking even the wind for his space station.

    Mountains resonant, “Is man rendered deaf, dumb and blind by greed and self-indulgence? Mother, what you need is billions of warrior-knights.”

    Then came a distant howling, “Never Fear! Wolves are back!”

    “In this way the war to rescue Mother’s fighters regained their morale.” Great-great-great grandfather said.

    “Wolves saved Mother Earth! How cool is that?” cheered Little One.

    “Not so fast, Chikala. Wolves came to war but twenty years ago in Yellowstone Park. They are allowed to breed there again. Wolf’s magic proved Nature’s worth more than all riches. However, far too many suffer the gold sickness. They lie, cheat, steal doing whatever it takes for more.”

    “Long this war will rage. You will tell your great-great grandchildren how wolves reclaimed Yellowstone. Meanwhile, be a Warrior-Superhero. Do your part to rescue Earth.

  2. Bipedal creatures approached our stardisc, led by Mr. Pish. Much like our culture it appeared that the smaller creature is the leader. Though it is not something we have done in quite some time, he verbally communicated directions to the bipeds and they went to work on the wreckage of our stardisc.

    I tried on several occasions to communicate with the bipeds. Unlike their leader the information I received from their minds was jumbled at best. Fevered images of confectionery and some primitive mating ritual involving a stick and cylindrical object, bombarded my mind from what I assumed is the male of the species. The other, female, might be the subservient mate of their quadruped leader. The emotional state of this Mr. Pish lightened when she came near him.

    As soon as they freed me I turned my attentions to Xax and Xenu. Without my instruments their condition would be hard to know for sure but visually they each appear to have broken their proboscis.

    Thought waves from the quadruped, “What more do you need?”

    “My companions will need treatments from our medical supplies,” I replied. “Thanks to you and your pets we will be able to heal and repair.” He cocked his head to the side at that, with thoughts I could not understand.

    The male held a strange rectangular object to the side of its head. I assumed primitive communication and thought nothing of it. That is until I saw the propellered air vehicles coming toward us.

  3. “Transformations”
    249 words

    Damn, it’s cold.

    Of course, being naked and in the wild tends to make for a chilly experience. Especially in winter. Tomorrow, the full moon will begin waning. And I will be normal again.

    Funny. Exactly one year ago, “it” happened.

    Out hunting, alone, I spied my quarry off in the distance. Cocky and arrogant, I ran full-out. As I neared, I thought I had the element of surprise on my side.

    I was wrong.

    He turned just as I lunged. We both went down in a heap. He got to his feet, bared his teeth, and came at me. I ducked. He sailed over, landing face-down.

    I now had the upper hand.

    He rolled over just as I pounced. And, unfortunately for him, he exposed his neck. I latched on, and held on for dear life. He began pummeling my sides. Pain shot through my ribs. But I did not release my grip until he fell still.

    Limping home, I noticed a minuscule trail of blood behind me. I then realized he had scratched me, sealing my fate.

    Now, one night each month, I must find a way to slip away from my family, so that they do not witness my transformation. I want tell them. Warn them.

    Stay away from the humans. Otherwise, this could happen to you.

    Such is the curse of the were-man. I can only hope the rest of the pack never learns of my secret. I know what they would do to me.

  4. Our rescuers comprised of Mr Pish and a male and female biped.
    The male was grumbling, “It’s freezing out here are you sure he isn’t leading us on a wild goose chase?”
    “I’ve never seen him this agitated before. Hurry, he’s disappeared behind the trees.”
    Mr Pish came to me and proceeded to do the strangest thing. A soft piece of flesh protruded from his maw which he pressed repeatedly against my face while secreting a clear liquid.
    The female’s thought waves told me she was Kat and the male, EM. They were staring wide eyed with maws shaped in a binary 0, scanning the scene from the entrance way.
    The female recovered first and pulled the crytanium bars aside thus freeing me.
    EM followed suit and gently examined my crew members.
    Mr Pish applied his liquid in the same pleasant manner to my injured crew which revived them to consciousness.
    Together we carried the wounded to a building which Mr Pish called a house.
    We were served delicious, hot brown refreshments and our injuries were treated and Pish administered his powerful liquid medicine regularly.
    We all agreed confidentiality but how would we repair our craft?
    EM yelled into a palm held device and ordered other beings named minions, to retrieve his “Death Star Ray Gun” and bring it to Kat’s house immediately or gruel rations would cease indefinitely.
    Grinning confidently he assured us his invention would fuel our ship.
    Mr Pish is the most extraordinary being in the universe.

  5. I awoke to something very cold and wet in my auditory opening. When I opened my vision portals, I saw the little white being’s glistening black olfactory mechanism. I was picking up a lot of planetary static, but one sound started to rise above the din.

    “Dude, you got any treats? I’m hungry.”


    “Yeah. I had to go pretty far to get my friends. I could use some water, too.”

    “What are you?”

    “What? No. Who. Who am I. Dude, your English is atrocious. And everyone knows I’m Mr. Pish.”

    “Mr. Pish?”

    “Yeah, I write books for kids, to teach them about getting outside and discovering the world around them. It’s sad: kids just play video games inside all the time now. They have no idea how awesome it is outside.”

    I wasn’t certain what all of that meant. My translator box was on the fritz, I assumed because of the impact. Whatever he was communicating, this being seemed very intelligent.

    “I’m not a being. I’m a dog. And I am very intelligent. I write books. I have an app. I have a YouTube channel and a Facebook page. Clearly you’re not from around here. Yeesh.”

    He tilted his head and I could see my reflection in his big brown vision portals. He was confident and wise. “Mr. Pish, if you can get your friends to help us, we would like you to accompany us back to our planet and become our ruler.”

    “Sounds interesting – what kind of treats do you have there?”

  6. “Okay, so we’re agreed I’ll do the talking, right?”

    “No!” a chorus rings out in reply.

    “But I am the Evil Mastermind and you are all, well, mere minions…”


    “Sorry, Brooks, not you. Just the rest of the lot. By the way, how are we doing?”

    “We’re at fifty.”

    “Already? We’d better get moving.”

    This is all very perplexing. I’m still too weak to open my eyes, so I can only imagine the troupe the quadruped calling himself Mr. Pish has brought. And although I can’t interpret their language, it is as though I can understand them through his thought-waves.

    “May I suggest that if any of them is going through, you know, the change, I have quite a bit of expertise in that area…”

    “Carol, how likely is that? For all we know, they may be in the form of miniature T-rexes in tutus, in which case, I’m your man.”

    “Oh, for goodness sake. Get back on the naughty step, Rich. There’s probably nothing wrong with them that a nice bike ride or a good joke wouldn’t cure.”

    “Ahem. I suggest the only one they’ve actually communicated with take the lead. We’re approaching two-fifty, E.M.”

    “All right, that means we need to wrap it up. Let’s go.”

    As they trudge off through the snow, Xax and Xenu begin to stir behind me. By the time the motley crew is out of sight, they’re sitting up, fully healed.

    They do say laughter is the best medicine.

Comments are closed.

%d bloggers like this: