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.
“That’s what Abraham Duval told me a year back or so,” Sophronia Beliveau asserted as she sat sipping iced tea with her best friend, Jacqueline Rivière. It was late on a summer morning in Palmetto, Louisiana. The temperature already was over 100 in the kitchen of the weather-beaten shack four miles west of the old concrete bridge over the Atchafalaya River.
“Abraham Duval? Who’s he, woman?” Jacqueline demanded, pulling her head back and staring at her companion.
“Oh, come on, Jackie. I told you ’bout him at the time. He’s that old Creole who used to cut Philomine’s grass. He said he saw a gator crawl under Philomine’s house the day before she died. You know what that means!”
“Now I ’member. Terrible thing, all right. That family is cursed for sure.”
“Hush, woman! There’re spirits about!”
“Well, it all makes sense,” Jacqueline asserted. “Look what happened to Philomine’s daughter.”
“Leonie Mercier?”
“Yes, poor Leonie. Married 15 years to that worthless Rémy character before she finally wised up and threw him out. And that daughter of theirs—”
“You mean Ida.”
“Yes, the one who sent Leonie to the hospital with a gash over her right eye one night and who ended up in juvenile detention. Leonie’s doomed for sure.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Well, I ran into Alzophine LaPomeret at Surette’s meat market yesterday. She done told me she saw an alligator crawl under Leonie’s house not 15 minutes before she got to the market.”
Gator
He looked at me with all the patience of time, while I stared at him, this gigantic gargantuan gator. Shocking that he prowled the earth with dinosaurs! Conservatively, I estimated him to be about nineteen feet in length and weigh about 1,700 pounds. During his lifetime he used about three thousand teeth. I had read that a person could hold the jaws of an alligator closed with his bare hands. Who came up with such facts- some survivalist, named Lefty? James Bond had hop scotched across them to safety. Me, I was just wimpy!
This alligator was battle worn but bore his scars like badges of honour and courage. Alligatoridae family. Early Spanish explorers called him el lagarto, the lizard. A devilish black. May live into the eighties in captivity. Being anxious always made me spew facts. Solitary territorial animals- good because I did not want his bully brothers to appear. Having no intention to witness his high walk or sprawl, I retreated. Definitely hated the thought of being dragged into a watery larder! Wonder if this gator had just consumed a juicy gar, mouthwatering coypu, but in any case I took aversion to being ground by gizzard stones! Do alligators regard humans as prey?
“Mr. Alligator, I never ate your meat or wore your skin. Never have I exploited you by taking a swamp tour. Certainly, I have never hunted you and never will. My attitude towards you is one of mortal dread. Goodbye, highly respected one.”
The Retirement Address of Ms. Eulalia Jones
You lovely people, my children, parents, co-workers, I so appreciate that you have come to bid me farewell after thirty-eight years of teaching. The years have flown by. Each and every one of them with grace and glory. I have had the privilege of being a Grade One teacher for all those years, the truly glorious honor of being at the gateway of learning. I have been, for many of you, the first person to guide you forward into a life of exploration.
As I mentioned, each and every one of those years was blessed with grace and glory.
Each and everyone…save that first year. That first year, I was so excited to be launching my journey.
For a few weeks, it went well.
Until…Little…I’ll call him Jeremy but that is not his real name, and you never know, he may be here tonight…little Jeremy asked the question that I had no answer for.
Of course, there were many questions I had no answer for but this one challenges me to this day.
Jeremy brought a book to school; Roald Dahl’s delightfully rendered The Enormous Crocodile…a book about eating children I might add but that did not perturb him as much as that age-old question: What is the difference between a crocodile and an alligator?
I was about to explain when he added, “Miss Jones, why do they call alligators ‘gators’ but they don’t call crocodiles, ‘diles’?
He had me.
He still does.
“Imagine it as a predator. A voracious carnivore, waiting to pull you under. You’ll struggle, and then you’ll drown. Goodnight cruel world.”
The counsellor offered me the leads, snapping the jaws at their ends. I could see they were both attached to a SimStim device. The Streamcaster was online, its activity indicators shimmering. I could escape from her and this tired room. All I had to do was splice in.
“Imagine it as an alligator if it helps. Imagine it grabbing you, pulling you down. Imagine the waters closing over you. Darkness, then death.”
I tried but I couldn’t see it. I could see the counsellor, her accusing eyes. I could see the SimStim, waiting for me to connect. I could skip the safeguard notices, splice direct into the flow. I didn’t need this. This was unnatural. It was keeping me away from my life.
My consciousness expanded as the splice began. I bypassed the cautions, the red flags falling as I ran through my overrides. One more breath, then I could relax, inhabit my real world, leaving this fakery behind.
The jaws gaped and I felt the crush, the water thick as mud. I gasped and swallowed it down, gravity shifting. Darkness emerged and I fell in.
“You couldn’t not do it, could you?” The counsellor looked smug, reproachful. I hadn’t realised I’d snatched the leads from her hands, splicing myself into the stream she’d prepared, knowing I’d do it.
I was a SimStim addict and I was ashamed.
Title: Seein’s Believin’
“I don’t care what anyone says, I tell you I SAW it!”
“Come on dude, there’s no such thing…are you back on that wacky tobacky?”
“Not since Christmas.”
“Okay, so we’re here. I don’t see a thing. Maybe you should stick your foot in the water, or even better, take your clothes off and troll for it.”
“If that’s what it takes to have you see it, and believe me.” Daryll sat down on the weeds next to the water and started taking off his shoes and socks.
“Tell me you’re really not going to do this? What if there is an albino alligator? Come on dude, I believe you…let’s do something else.” He couldn’t believe his eyes; his friend was now naked and ready to jump into the water.
“You should have believed me in the first place. Now, you’re going to see that I was telling the truth.”
“Please don’t do this. I believe you…I really do.” Daryll jumped in and when the water calmed, Homer saw the creature. “I see it, I see it!” He was doing a dance and tripped on Daryll’s clothes. Where the hell is Daryll?
*.*.*
“Yes, Sheriff, those are Daryll’s clothes!”
The sheriff contemplated the scattered clothing. “Let me get this straight, he wanted you to see an albino alligator?” He put his hand on the boy’s shoulder and announced, “I think you boys were fighting, so, we’re going to take a little ride downtown…Albino my ass!”
The Riddle
One day a Fox was walking along a path that took it to the edge of a swampy river. A bridge spanned the river, which the Fox wished to cross. However, guarding the bridge was a large and ferocious-looking Gator.
“Who goes there?” growled the Gator. It squinted at the Fox with hungry eyes.
“I am Felix of the Far Country,” answered the Fox, and bowed before the Gator.
“So?”
“I wish to cross this bridge.”
“Not so fast,” it hissed, and raised a massive claw. “In order to cross this bridge you must first answer a riddle. If you answer it correctly, you will be allowed to cross. If you answer it incorrectly, I will eat you. Agreed?”
The Fox gulped. It was a gamble. But he was confident in his abilities. Besides the bridge was the only way to cross to the other side.
“Agreed.”
The Gator smirked. “Here is the riddle,” it said, and recited it thus:
“If 6 ravens = 3 ravens
and 3 ravens = 5 ravens
and 5 ravens = 4 ravens
then what do 10 ravens equal?”
The Fox thought for a minute and smiled. “The answer is: 10 ravens equal 3 ravens.”
The Gator’s eyes widened. “Very clever,” it grunted. “How did you figure it out?”
“Elementary,” said the Fox. “The numeral is found in the written number.”
“You may cross,” said the Gator, grudgingly.
As the Fox crossed the bridge, it shouted, “Tally Ho,” and went merrily on its way.
It was Valentine’s Day, you could feel the love in the air. We had decided to picnic just near the edge of the water. It was a lovely day, and we both were romantically gazing into each other’s eyes, then the water began rippling in an odd yet patterned way. Then a gift was created, a gift I shared with my partner, it was brown and smooth, except instead of being in a wonderful heart shaped box it was concealed inside of my pants. That’s I defecated, right in the middle of our wonderful picnic. Frozen in time as I could neither walk, or run, or even stand for that matter. My date for the day was already out of sight. They had sprinted away faster than the speed of sound. Upon my escape I never saw my date again, even though the date had been going well. I wonder to the end of this day if they were afraid of the gator and that fear made them sprint away from the scene, or if it was the putrid smell of my body’s fear culminating in the horrid release of my bowels. I guess I will never know, but I will just sit at home on another Valentine’s Day wondering. In my old age I look back and thank that gator, I mean it isn’t everyday you can say something made you poop your pants! So thanks for the wild memory Mr. Gator!
“Buford, what are you doing?”
“Nothin’ Mama.”
Mama looked, but could barely see him. His chestnut plates reflected the sun. He looked like a bumpy log. He had the cutest nose of all her babies. Sometimes she wondered about his brains.
“Why you floatin’ like that?”
“I’m hungry.”
“Then come home for dinner.”
“I already ate dinner.”
“Then why’d you say you was hungry.”
“Because, there’s a big vanilla muffin on the grass.”
“A what?”
“Mama, remember that thing last week. You had to peel the wrapper off of it before we could eat it. It was so sweet but it was all skin and bones. But this one is huge, Mama.”
“Stop telling tales and git on home!”
“But Mama, I swear it’s right there! It’s got some sort of extra eye with three legs. I wonder what that tastes like.”
Buford crept onto the bank. The muffin began walking backwards, but the eye was still staring at him. He ran up to the eye and knocked it over. Buford grabbed one of its legs and pulled it back into the water. Thrashing, splashing and holding it steady, Buford took a bite.
“Gross.” Buford spit out the eye and it’s legs. “That’s the most awful thing I’ve ever tasted.”
By this time, the muffin was gone, but now he knew. “Go for the muffin not the eye!”
The muffin ran back to the tent. “Hey guys, An alligator just ate my camera!”
I was a girl from the north off to sunny climes for warm air and outdoor fun. Currently fun, among other things, equals golf. We find a nice local course and “tee em up”. It is much flatter here than among the hills of home. Ooops- The errant ball goes into a marshy area of small trees and shrubs beside a sign saying “Do Not Enter.” But I only have a few balls with me, and they are expensive. I look around and sneak in. Although it is sort of swampy, the plethora of almost new balls of every color is a sight to behold. I stock up and move on.
Two holes further along I am amused that the course owners have a sense of humor as it appears that they have placed a large plastic gator near the water’s edge and very near to my ball. I walk up, take my stance, and swing away. I got a fairly good score that day.
Later wide eyes and laughter greet me at the bar as I tell my tale of my day on the links. It appears that only northern naiveté and the occasional kindness of nature have outweighed my utter stupidity
and saved me to play another day.
When Sidney moved south to the Low Country, he was enthralled by the vast stands of loblolly pine and the sacred live oaks bearded with “Spanish moss”. This wasn’t upstate New York. Then, one warm sunny day, Sidney saw several creatures crawl out of the drainage lagoon in his backyard to sun themselves on his lawn. After his initial surprise, sudden anxiety over the unfamiliar creatures aroused a need to call some authority, as if there was a stray dog or rabid raccoon in Sidney’s new neighborhood.
In time, Sidney began to accept their presence and their peculiarities and, like the natives, to relish their coexistence in this exotic landscape. Sidney began to ignore them, although now he had accumulated stories and factoids to amaze newcomers and folks back home. Their size, their habits, their diet, and some chilling stories from page six in the news involving pets. Eventually, though, he forgot that they were even there.
He had stopped looking at that which he no longer feared. That which he no longer feared, however, had not stopped looking at Sidney. They watched and waited. Like the secreted temptations of Sidney’s lesser angels, they slouch silently in the reeds and rushes looking for weakness; an opportunity to strike. Then coldly, dispassionately, with the deftness of a thrown spear, they hurl themselves at a target: egret, rabbit, small dog, or an errant Sidney fishing too close to the edge of the lagoon; the edge of darkness; the creatures’ domain.
Fripp Island, not far from Beaufort, SC, is popular for many reasons: agreeable climate, a championship golf course, amazing food, a long white sandy beach….and a country club with a giant sculpture of a gator dominating the front lawn—a sign that no matter where you are on the island, these scaly creatures are never far from you.
If your condo is on the marsh, you’ll catch a glimpse of a gator gliding quietly through the marsh grass and furtively slithering up onto your back yard. Since they can’t climb stairs, you’re safe on your second floor balcony. Anything lower carries a red flag warning!
Cars are discouraged, even outlawed, on parts of the island. The only methods of mobility are feet and golf carts. Because gators are hard to outrun, it’s wise to travel to the beach and back in your golf cart, not on foot. And yet, when that unrecognizable lump in the middle of the road suddenly sprouts stubby legs and waddles toward you, you know you’d rather be riding in a Sherman tank. One chomp and the golf cart and everything in it would be dinner.
You’re flirting with an extreme case of hysteria until a swarm of khaki-clad men carrying long poles with a noose on the end emerges on the run from the opposite side of the road.
You relax and reach for a beer. The Fripp Island Gator Wranglers have arrived!
Later, gator.
I wait. I am hungry, but I wait. It is just a matter of time until one of them walks by me, dragging a piece of food on a rope, just for me. The pieces of food come in all sizes and colors, but are usually plump and tasty.
Often, they don’t even notice me. They walk by me, dangling their food offerings in front of me. It is so easy to catch the food when they do that. Sometimes the food will see me and make odd, repetitive noises. It is as if it is announcing “Dinner is served.” Yummy.
Sometimes, as they walk along, they see me in the water and get closer. They seem excited, pointing at me and waving small objects at me. They seem to forget about the piece of food they are dragging. When this happens, the food makes those noises and runs up to me. Sweet! Who ordered food delivered? I did!
The nice thing about this food on a rope is that there are no sharp objects in it to give you a stomach ache. I discovered that smaller pieces of food dangling in the water usually contained a sharp thing in them. Instant gut ache. With this big food, all I have to do is yank on the rope until they let go. If I pull them into the water, they let go really fast. I can then go into the deep water and dine undisturbed.
Thanks for stopping by.
The gator watched them from the water. They both watched him, but he wasn’t center in their thoughts.
Roger, without taking his eyes away, said to Meredith, “You brought me out here. Tell me what you need so I can get the hell away from that thing.”
“That thing,” she replied, “is why you’re here. I need you to figure out if it’s real. Or if it’s…one of them.”
As if it made all the sense in the world, he nodded. “That is what I do. I’ll talk to him. See how he’s feeling. Should I use the good tea service, or–”
“Enough, Roger!” Meredith’s raised voice caused the gator to growl, a deep noise that made both of them freeze in place. Now in a whisper, she continued, “I saw you do it before. I need to know if magic is real. This might be my best chance.”
Cursing quietly, Roger began to chant the sacred words. Something tuned into a deep place in the gator’s mind.
It wasn’t the answer either of them were looking for.
As they were running away, Meredith screamed, over her shoulder, “Let me guess. You were in the middle of one of those dice games, weren’t you?”
Roger sped past, the gator, beyond irritated, on his heels.
“It would appear so. We are so breaking up!”
Taylor waded into the cool water. The hot sun of Tampa Bay burned her skin. She splashed the stagnant water on her body, turning her back to the far bank.
The alligator quietly surfaced, its onyx eyes survey the terrain zeroing in on its prey. It crept through the water opening its jaws scraping the skin on Taylor’s arm.
Swinging at her attacher, Taylor tripped on a rock, falling into the mire. She stood up and bolted toward the shore. The beasts torpedoed through the marsh, its rows of teeth separated, threatening to swallow her whole. She grabbed a stick jamming it into the opening as the animal thrashed to free itself.
A loud crackle of laughter emanated from the beast, “you should see the look on your face. Take out the stick. You’re going to ruin the inside of my prototype.”
“Mike, you are a jerk. I thought I was going to die.”
“Sorry, babe. I didn’t want to pass up an opportunity to field test my new G.A.T.O.R, Gargantuan Aquatic Time Operatered Researcher. It’s my attempt at robotic realism.”
“Next time, experiment on someone you don’t want to date anymore. I think you and the Bot make a great couple.”
“Oh, come on, Tay. Don’t be mad. Let me make it up to you. Jackson’s has Gator on the menu.”
“Nope. Anthony’s is more my speed. Food served on plates, not in paper-lined baskets.”
“You win. It was lifelike, right? I’m going to fool everybody.”
The breeze was stifling, which Gladys had never taken to. She wanted a cool blast from the Pacific, where she’d met Frank. That was long ago and now she had other worries, plus the dog needed a walk.
She wore gray sweatpants and a pink fleece Frank liked. No makeup and a quick brush through her gray hair. The dye job had ended when Frank’s life had.
“I’ll keep watch over you,” he repeated endlessly at the end. She didn’t realize it was the disease talking.
So many things she hadn’t realized. But bills and taxes were getting paid. And the dog would get his walk. Of the six dogs they’d had, Gladys liked this spaniel least. He was a nice enough pet, and it was Frank’s turn to choose, but she was a Pekingese person.
“Don’t move, Gladys.”
She almost turned. Instead, she heard the dog barking at the beach. Out in the water, eyes popping above the pond, an alligator stalked her dog.
Gladys turned to the man. Tall, dark, and handsome. Oh, so young. “My dog,” she said.
Quickly, the man picked up a rock and threw it, splashing the alligators eyes. He grabbed the dog and raced to Gladys. “Hold the leash tight.”
“Let me pay you,” said Gladys struggling with her purse and the squirming dog.
“No need,” said the man, jogging off. “I was keeping watch over you.”
Gladys held the dog close and stared at the blue sky. “Thank you,” she mouthed silently.
Sacrifice
Twelve-year-old Sarah ambled into her parents’ tent, breathless and excited. “I just saw the cutest alligator!”
Mrs. Scarborough sat bolt upright, and her husband pushed himself up on one elbow, opening a scowling eye.
“Sarah, don’t you go anywhere near that creature, do you understand?” said Mr. Scarborough.
“Yes, Daddy,” she answered, then ran off to explore somewhere else.
But later, when her parents and siblings lingered over lunch with another family at the campsite, Sarah wandered back to the swamp.
She rolled up her cargo pants and took off her boots, wading in. The alligator wasn’t too large and looked pale, so it didn’t frighten her. Surely Mommy and Daddy would understand.
She was about to actually attempt to pet the alligator, when she stepped on something… reaching down, she pulled up the squishy, bloody head of a deer. Screaming, she ran from the swamp.
At the water’s edge, she found another creature that had escaped the jaws of the alligator: the deer’s tiny fawn, alone, vulnerable and trembling on delicate legs.
Sarah adjusted her clothing and lifted the fawn in gentle arms. She trudged back to the camp with conflicting emotions. She’d had a harrowing, hideous experience in the swamp, but the orphaned fawn’s mother had saved her life, almost like a sacrifice.
Her parents were right, and she knew she would face some kind of punishment for disobeying them. She was also confident that as conservationists, they would help the fawn, who she named “Lucky.”
Those Eyes
“Hey, I’m hungry today!” Ooh boy. Three Humans sitting there, staring at me from the riverbank. Admiring my plaintive eyes! So cute.
Heck, their eyes are cute too. But sad, maybe, like they’ve been through a lot. Maybe that’s why they came out today.
And let’s face it, this ain’t some foreign clime, but there they are, putting on their brave faces, laying out a picnic lunch far from the city, so excited. Chatting and gosh, smiling even at me.
Not everybody smiles at me.
Ohmigosh! They’re trying to decide if I’m a Gator or a Crockodile, like it matters who eats them? I’m chucklin’ here. This ain’t TV, People!
But wait. The kinda prissy one’s going on about the food now – No. Am I hearing right? “All veg and grains, no animal protein,” blah blah blah?
VEgan?!
Puhlease. I’m done here.
###
ELIGIBLE FOR EDITORS’ CHOICE ONLY
I can’t forget the year 1985. The year that brought a demonic flood in my village. The Koshi river was never so full of water, but that year the river became violent, it overflowed with heavy rain water tearing down everything that had come in its way. There were shards of debris and broken hopes floating everywhere in the flood water. The roads and paved paths were nowhere to be seen—everything submerged in water.
The flood was not just water, it was a twisted, vile shape that engulfed homes, cattle, and the whole years’ harvest. Vehicles were half drowned in the water.
While we watched the flood water filling up the houses from our rooftop and water gushing rapidly inside our rooms, most houses were already buried in water.
That soup of mud didn’t only wash away the toys of village children, kitchen items, and bundles of clothes, but also carried venomous snakes hissing and ready to bite.
After the rain had stopped pouring for a while, I sat on a scaffold platform to look around. All I could see was muddy water everywhere.
“Watch out! Lift up your legs immediately,” my grandfather hollered from behind.
Instinctively I sprang up on the scaffold, standing on my feet. I looked back. There it was—a gigantic Gator with his mouth open, swimming towards the scaffold, with his eyes and nostrils bobbing ready to pull me down by my legs.
I was destined to stay alive.
Hamburgers, hot dogs and bratwurst sizzled on the grill, filling the air with a mouth-watering scent. The boom-box was blasting “Rocket Man,” which struck Peter Caudell as being a bit heavy-handed.
The whole crew had gathered under this park shelter on the banks of the Indian River, a poor substitute for the beach house which had been the traditional venue for the pre-flight barbeque. Peter wondered how many of the rookies even realized what they were missing, thanks to the recent hurricane.
Speaking of missing, where was Ted? Peter scanned the area for the technical specialist who always seemed to be preoccupied. More than once Peter had seriously considered going to the Chief Astronaut and saying Ted just wasn’t cutting the mustard and should be taken off the flight.
Except he’s got connections, and–
“Hey, get away from there.” Peter broke from the group and ran over to grab the errant astronaut by the shoulders, haul him away from the riverbank. “Can’t you see that gator?”
The younger man started at him in astonishment. “I thought you said the Mercury Seven used to water-ski out there.”
“Yeah, but that was in the days when the alligator was in danger of going extinct from overhunting. A few decades as a protected species and the population’s bounced right back. DNR’s even allowing some limited hunting these days, because they’re starting to encroach on populated areas.”
“I didn’t know that.” Ted’s voice sounded smaller, more subdued.
“Now you know.”