Use the photograph above as the inspiration for your flash fiction story. Write whatever comes to mind (no sexual, political, or religious stories, jokes, or commentary, please) and after you PROOFREAD it, submit it as your entry in the comments section below.
Welcome to the Indies Unlimited Flash Fiction Challenge. In 250 words or less, write a story incorporating the elements in the picture at left. 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. No political or religious entries, please. Need help getting started? Read this article on how to write flash fiction.
On Wednesday, we will open voting to the public with an online poll so they may choose the winner. Voting will be open until 5:00 PM Thursday. On Saturday morning, the winner will be recognized as we post the winning entry along with the picture as a feature.
Once a month, the admins will announce the Editors’ Choice winners. Those stories 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. Please note the rule changes for 2018.
The Sky is Calling
This evening, the summer grass is dry. The day’s sun has warmed it well. We settle in, stretched out, side by side, a foot apart, close, touching close, yet cocooned in our own thoughts, memories, visions.
And there is wine, of course. Cooled white Sauvignon Blanc. A favourite of hers.
“When did you say?” she asks.
“Possibly all night.”
“It might cool down later.”
“It might. We can remedy that.”
“Oh, you. One thing on your mind.”
“The heavens are also in my thoughts now. Like the coincidence.”
“The timing that you mentioned.”
“Exactly. Top you up.”
“Please.”
I reach for the bottle, lift it from the wine bucket, she extends her hand with the wine glass, and I pour.
“Thank you.”
I smile, pour some for myself and return the bottle to its icy home.
“The coincidence!”
“Hah, more an idle thought than a…”
“Didn’t someone say, ‘coincidence is God’s way of remaining anonymous?’”
“Old Al…I think.”
“Al?”
“Einstein.”
“I don’t think you should be so disrespectful.”
“No disrespect intended. I like to think of him as…like a drinking buddy. Like, he could join us here, stretch out on the grass…in-between you and me, talk a little about Comet Neowise, COVID-19, and coincidences, Science’s hand in it all…or Gods, or both.”
“You phony. You don’t have a religious bone in your body…”
We fall silent.
Stare skyward.
She’s right, though. Ever the Doubting Thomas, am I.
Still, it would be a great conversation.
It was the best of times. It was the worst of times. It was the end of time for most of us. The prophets had always been most eloquent, embedding their messages in riddles. The rising of the right and the manifold fall had confused many of the uninformed, some of them seeing events in Germany as potential trigger points, most people’s opinions being split between the second and the first worldwide conflicts. Others had already become disheartened, thinking it could have been Napoleon, or Genghis Khan, or another chieftain whose feats had already been unwritten, the scribes of the jealous having no respect for those who’d passed. The provenance of their words was usually without substance, with only the few who were select knowing the incontrovertible truths which had been hidden.
The signs were in the heavens. And on the earth, there was little but pain.
The Cleric had been one of the quickest to recognise the portents. There had been three blood moons in quick succession, followed by an enlarged display of the Eta Aquariids. The Brethren had been collectively been holding their breath until the Neowise triad of men discovered their comet.
It was beginning, at last. The end was nearly nigh.
The Cleric had seen it all while in a trance, his handmaidens told us. He was sequestered away from all things worldly and crass in his wilderness retreat, preparing a place for us all.
We had only but to renounce our wealth to his ministers.
Timing is Everything
We had been dating for months, and I really liked everything about Don. Even his idea of taking a walk instead of going to the party, was a pleasant surprise.
I could feel the warmth of his hand on my back as we slowly walked around the garden. I could sense he wanted to say something, but despite my curiosity, I just enjoyed the wonderful sound of the small waterfall and the warm breeze.
I felt his hand leave my back and got an immediate chill. Don walked up ahead and turned and knelt. “I know this will come as a surprise, but I have found what I have been looking for…well, for a long time.” He opened the small box. “Will you marry me?”
I wasn’t expecting anything like this. “Don, we can’t…I mean I can’t.” He didn’t react or say anything. He just kept kneeling. I took a deep breath and looked up to the sky. I had never seen a Comet before, and most certainly had never been proposed to. “Look Don, a COMET,” I yelled, pointing to the sky. He didn’t even look up, but stared into my eyes.
“I know. I arranged it for this occasion. God knows better than you and I, how much we love each other – will YOU MARRY ME?”
Eight years later, we walked this same path. “Mommy, look at that thing in the sky. It’s pretty.”
“Yes, it’s unbelievable, sweetie!” I felt Don’s warm hand on my back once again.
In the house, alone, after she had gone, I began to spend hours sitting around until it was dark. I lit cigarette after cigarette, blowing out the smoke and watching it waft around. I contemplated things, I guess.
One night a feeling, distinct from the other states and phases I’d become accustomed to, fell upon me. I shifted in my seat. Then it faded. I knew the sensation: being looked at. Someone or something had seen me.
It returned the next night. Foreign eye upon me. I flattened picture frames, put phones in drawers.
It continued for a week. I ripped out the phone line, took down mirrors. I looked around the street but it was always deserted.
On the grass, I lay exasperated, looking up at the stars. How small we were – but that was old news.
Then – among those points of alien light – was a pale blue ball, with a tail like an eyelash.
I reconnected the internet. It’d be around the twilit northern horizon for a month. The brightest comet in since Hale-Bopp. It just survived passing the sun. Comets are only visible thanks to our proximity to that flaming ball. Otherwise, they’d look like big, dirty snowballs. Which they basically are.
The profundity is in their movement across the sky. Stars and moons are stately and timeless. But comets brings drama; they dodge extinction, winks down, then go.
I watched it move. Then it faded. I stood up, went inside. I turned on a light.
The old man leaned back against his donkey contemplating what else could be done to the structure. Gotta finish putting on the siding, he thought, and add some more reinforcement. It’s gonna be perfect when finished. He reached down and patted the ferret cuddling at his feet. “Let’s get to gettin’ this thing on the road,” he muttered.
“No! No! No!,” a thundering voice echoed through the night. “I’ve told you dozens of times, this work will not do. Listen to me. Stop this nonsense and build what I commanded you to build.”
The old man covered his ears. “Please, let me do it my way,” he pleaded. “I’ve spent months measuring, designing, getting everything organized. You put me in charge, let me be in charge!”
After a long pause, “Alright, old man. I’ll give you until Sunday to come up with a solution, and, if things are still as they stand today, I’ll take immediate action to get you to do what you should have done in the first place. Till then, ta ta!”
The frustrated old man decided to take a nap to clear his mind. He moved the cow next to the bleating sheep, crawled onto the pile of welcoming hay and went into a deep sleep. Being goosed by a honking goose, he leaped to his feet instinctively realizing it was thatSunday. A tiny comet soared down through the sky and obliterated his unfinished construction.
“Enough! Now, build the ark like I told you to, Noah!”
George and Martha had just finished Sunday dinner and were sitting on their deck trying to cool down from the heat of the day. Tall spruce and cedar trees up the hill kept the heat at bay and the couple in shadow. George sipped some ice tea while Martha guarded a Tom Collins.
“Why don’t we run down to Golden Gardens,” said George, a youthful seventy, as he folded the science section of the Sunday paper. “See, Comet Neowise will be showing tonight just after sunset. Tonight will be the closest it comes to earth, 64 million miles. It’s supposed to be something else, two tails and huge coma. Shall we go?”
“Together?” asked Martha, a full-figured sixty-year-old with hair losing its reddish dye and moving to bright white.
“No, no,” said George, a joking tone to his voice. “You take the Subaru and I’ll take the van. We can meet down at the pier.”
Martha didn’t laugh. “Funny,” she said as she sipped her drink.
“Oh, come on,” said George. “Isn’t it time we made up? Let’s do something together, have some fun.”
“What kind of fun did you have in mind?” asked Martha, not smiling.
“Look, I said I’m sorry,” said George. “How many times do I have to say it? When are you going to forgive me? The longer we sit here arguing, the less chance we’ll have to see the comet. It won’t be back for 6,800 years.”
“That’s about when forgiveness starts,” said Martha.
ELIGIBLE FOR EDITORS CHOICE ONLY
There! Cletus watched as the light sped through the sky. The Reverend Raylance Pettigrew foretold of its coming. It was in the good book, a sign of the end of days. He stated we must rid ourselves of frivolous wealth (for the needy, through his foundation of course) or we would perish and not be part of the GLORIOUS rapture of souls!
His wife Nora had said “Poppycock. It’s our money. Fix the damn barn.”
Damn her! Cletus stormed back to the house. Nora had just applied her Nad’s Facial Cream and was heading to her lounger to watch her shows while it worked it’s magic. He intercepted her and sternly pointed a shaking finger in her face. “The Reverend warned us and now it’s happened!”
Nora just shook her head and stared not wishing to crack the facial mask. This enraged Cletus and he yelled “The shooting star! It came! Will you listen to me for once?” Then slap her awaiting a response.
Saying nothing, Nora made her way past him to the kitchen. Cletus huffed and went to the bathroom to take a leak. Next thing he knew, the bathroom door burst open and slammed the wall. Nora unloaded both barrels of a 12-gauge into Cletus’s midsection sending him flying through the shower curtain.
Nora then went to her lounger and watched her shows as planned. No one ever visited, so she could bury him tomorrow. Comet should clean up the mess in the bathroom nicely.
8 year old Neil runs to his Mom, with a concerned look on his face.
“Mom, can Daddy’s spacecraft launch a 100,000,000,0000 pound mountain to space?” Neil asked with a remarkable glow.
“I don’t think so dear! why do you ask?” Mom looks back with surprised admiration.
“Uncle’s telescope showed today that a COMET is coming towards earth!”, Neil was more serious now.
“You know Mom, that is why we are in trouble with Coronavirus.” Neil looks at the floor.
“If only Daddy could help me throw a heavy mountain to this comet to stop it from coming to our earth!”, Neil said innocently.
“You know Mom, Kids encyclopedia says that centuries ago, every time people saw a comet, something bad had happened in the world.” Neil’s voice was more firm this time.
“I can’t even go for soccer practice because of Coronavirus.”
Mom can feel his emotional trauma. There was a perceptible hope in Neils heart that he alone could stop all the world’s suffering because of Coronavirus.
“No dear Daddy can’t launch such a heavy weight to space to stop the comet.”
“It was just a superstition dear; people didn’t know much about science back then.”
“Believing in superstitions is just like closing doors for knowledge.” Explained Mom.
“Whenever you have a fear like this, trust science; someone will come with a solid scientific solution and take away all your fear.”
Satisfied with the answer Neil went to play with his robots.
Tired of listening to the girls’ chatter about boys, vids and suchlike boring stuff, I’d slipped out of the dorm for some fresh air. I peered over the southern horizon, seeking that bright patch of light…
Approaching footsteps disrupted my chain of thought — the senior counselor. “You’re certainly interested in something.”
“Looking at the comet. McHenery Aerospace is trying to capture volatiles from it–”
“And despoiling a heavenly body in the process. This sort of cosmic vandalism–”
“Oh, come on. Those resources will help support the lunar settlements now that the ice fields around Shackleton Crater are running out.”
“Which wouldn’t have happened if humanity had respected the limits of the terrestrial ecology by remaining within its bounds.”
I had to restrain my temper, respond rationally instead of emotionally. I chose an old quotation. “Earth is humanity’s cradle, but one cannot remain in the cradle forever.”
“If you love space so much, why don’t you emigrate instead of continually criticizing people who believe humanity belongs on Earth?”
I bit my tongue. She knew as well as I did that a congenital heart defect made it impossible for me to pass the physical. Only she believed that meant that “put a smile on your face and make the best of it” meant joining her and the other people who’d turned their backs on space, instead of supporting it for those who could go up there and build humanity’s future.