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.
Trickster:
The man knocked at her door, demanding her attention. He wore an Italian suit, an unfamiliar school tie and a smile that finished where his lips faded to flesh tones.
He was not to be trusted.
“Good afternoon,” he said after she opened the door. “I’m so pleased to catch you while you’re here at home. I’m keen to speak with you, to listen to your opinions on everything that concerns you. I hope that I’ll be able to serve you if you’ll grant me just a few minutes of your time. I’m anxious that you’ve been misrepresented and that the current man here has been ignoring you and your needs. It’s so easy for someone to make promises when they’re at your doorstep, but how many of them will ever deliver what they said after you’ve given them your vote?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “Why should I believe you? The last man I spoke to said very much the same: why should I trust either of you?”
The man looked exasperated. He fussed with his tie. He took a step back and stepped forward again, patting the bulge of the knife in his pocket for reassurance.
“Let’s suppose I swear an oath on it,” he said, smiling. “One I’ll reinforce with blood. Cthulhu isn’t a name many people are familiar with, but I can promise you he’ll be about long after all the other candidates have been rendered to dust. He’s very much into the long game.”
In The Cards
I will walk the streets tonight, and then, when it seems appropriate, climb into the hills above the town. I will ascend those hills until I reach the peak. From there, I will see the fires, the flashes of fireworks, the shadows of all the children venturing out on All Hallows Eve.
And I will seem so much closer to the heavens.
And to hell.
They will all be out. The little ones, some with parents, clutching hands, guiding, protecting them with all their might.
Their useless might.
The little ones will be bursting with excitement, the joy of acquisition, something for nothing, life and desire. In their guises, their papier-mâché faces, their paper, and plastic costumes, their oh-so-scary masks, their drooling salacious lips, their inexperience with how cruel life can be, they play with their fear.
The night will be alive.
Celebrating death.
Yes, that is what is celebrated.
I know.
They should know.
Their parents should have explained.
I’m glad they haven’t.
Each step along the sidewalks of the night, the trails through the park, the sidesteps into the cemetery, the shrieks of terror, the giggles of reassurances, the yearning for shock, the need to feel safe, yet not, the complexity of celebrating horror, wanting it but not, all of this I will bear witness to from the hills outside of town.
I will feast on them.
It’s in the cards.
Isn’t it!
ELIGIBLE FOR EDITORS CHOICE ONLY
Trick or treat
“You’ll have to choose a card to see what your playing for,” said the strange man who appears out of nowhere. The wind kicking up the few strands of hair he possessed, in unison with the overgrown prairie grass.
Enjoying a picnic with Burton, Gillis was pretty, in a plain natural way. Didn’t need makeup interfering with her pale blue eyes and flawless complexion. She shrieked, as the man stood within a few feet.
Burton, on the other hand, jumped up, his body stiff, with clenched fists, ready to do battle. “Excuse me, who are you, what do you want?”
“My name is Oscar, I’m a magician. Please, choose a card, let’s find out your prize. If you pick an ace through nine, you receive a treat. 10 through King, a trick.” Nervously, he is edging closer, spreads the cards in mid air, then retracts back.
“Fine, one card, one time, then please leave us alone,” Gillis relents. The card she picks, brings on a slight smile. Showing both men a three, “What is my treat?”
Oscar, rummaging his hand through his jacket pocket, pulls out a pocketknife, squinting eyes reveal nothing. “Nope, this isn’t it.” Noticing that Burton is almost upon him, his hand retrieves a tiny purple pistol, quickly pushes a button, a single Pez candy drops. “Here is your prize, my lady,” Eyes wide, with a deeper voice, “Burton, now it’s your turn to pick a card!”
The Man on the Glass Pyramid
A well-dressed man stood at the top of a glass pyramid, holding a deck of cards. They weren’t an ordinary deck of cards, however; these ones were special. This deck contained only aces and jokers: fifty-two cards in all.
The man opened the deck, took out the cards, and shuffled them. Then he proceeded to use them in several clever ways such as spreading them fan-like in his hands and shooting them rapidly from one hand to the other.
He did this for several minutes.
Then he threw the cards, one by one, up into the air, in an alternating fashion: first an ace, then a joker, and so on. As he did so, he looked down, and shouted to the people below, “Trick… or treat?”
The people at the bottom of the pyramid, standing in the shadows, thought for a moment. Then they looked up at the well-dressed man and shouted: “A trick! We want a trick!”
“Are you sure?” he asked, smiling.
“Yes!” they shouted in unison.
“I knew you would,” the man whispered, and laughed. He danced a little jig and whispered, “Let it be so.” He selected a joker, the trick card, and flung it at the people standing below.
“The trick!” the people shouted. “We have the trick!”
And so the people got want they wanted: the trick card. The trickster. And they have been fooled ever since.
Bad enough we had broken up, but he lived above my apartment. If he knew I looked through my security portal most times he climbed the stairs, he would laugh his head off.
It was crazy how we broke up. I looked at his phone, discovering he was calling my best friend. I should have kept it to myself, but I confronted him.
To my surprise they were planning my birthday party. He said he couldn’t tolerate my distrust and broke off our relationship. Oh, how I miss what we had. I truly loved him and thought we were destined to be together.
Tonight, was Halloween, but I decided to skip the parties and make a giant bowl of popcorn.
I thought I heard something, but I guess it was just the popcorn popping.
Knock…knock.
I did hear a knock. I moved the popcorn pan, and turned off the stove.
I never looked to see who it was, surprised as hell to see Paul.
“Hello there,” he said with his big gorgeous smile, adding, “Trick or Treat!”
“Is this a trick?” I snapped.
“Do I smell popcorn?”
“You do.” I was still blocking the threshold.
“If you let me in, I will show you a neat card trick.”
I couldn’t believe he wanted to see me after this much time.
Paul quickly did his card trick. “Cool.” He could tell I wasn’t impressed.
“The treat is in the card box,” he insisted.
I was floored and it fit perfectly.
ELIGIBLE FOR EDITORS CHOICE ONLY
Trick……or Treat
Our Mother was an illusionist, our Father was a magician, my aunt was a conjurer and I was a witch. My besom broom lay on the ground under my outstretched arm. Powerfully, I uttered incantations. The sky menaced and dark foreboding clouds loomed. My black cloak whipped around as creatures of the earth called out.
“Gather around and see my latest card tricks,” the illusionist sang out in the field. She dexterously flipped her wrist sending a colourful blur of cards from one hand to the other. Hearts, Diamonds. Aces, Kings and Queens chased each other. Although her rich velvet coat flapped in the wind, her deck of playing cards flew true.
The magician cheered as the illusionist magicked a Queen from the air.
Spinning around in a purple puff of smoke and glitter, both he and the illusionist disappeared. The conjurer clapped once and magicked them back.
“Come on everyone, we have practiced enough for Halloween. Let’s go inside and enjoy some treats,” bellowed Dad over the gathering storm. Picking me up, he ran laughing home. I called my cat and dog “the creatures of the earth” to follow.
Dad teased Mum, “You need to practice a little more with the cards. I saw the Queen up your sleeve!” Joking, he dodged away from Mother to pick up my toy broom.
Seven years old have such great imaginations on Halloween!
Halloween Trick
“Trick or treat,” my brother Ali shouted when I opened the front door.
A blast of cold air cut through the sunlight. I shivered despite my wool shirt. “You’re a little old for this.” I snorted. “Finn’s in New York and I want to nap upstairs.”
“Watch this, Molly,” he shrieked. Playing cards sprang from one delicate pale hand to the other in a perfect floating arc.
Ali got Dad’s first name; I got his black hair and eyes. Ali also scored Mom’s gift for tricks and rosy cheeks. They matched his ruby magician’s jacket.
“Great.” I held out the candy bowl. “Now act thirty-four and go back to work.”
He grabbed two KIND bars and whistled. A ghost burst from the bushes. Ali put a bar in the white-gloved hand.
“Just one more trick for your treats.” Ali’s tone was teasing. “Ta-da.” He yanked off the ghost’s sheet.
My boyfriend’s blond cowlick stuck up. I doubled over, laughing, then pulled the two into the hallway.
Finn offered a Tiffany box from his pocket. “I brought something back for you.” His suit was rumpled. His eyes twinkled and he shifted feet. My face flushed. How I loved him.
I opened the box. The room spun. I grabbed the door jamb.
Finn slipped the gold band with the glittering diamond on my finger. “Will you…?
“Oh yes!”
We kissed. Finn scooped me into his arms and we went up the stairs. Wiping a tear, I blew a kiss to my brother.
He showed up one afternoon, not long after school let out. Half a dozen of us were hanging around the playground, shooting baskets or going down the slide backward. The teachers were gone, and our folks didn’t care as long as we got home by suppertime.
In fact, we were so busy having fun we didn’t notice him for a while. But when we did, we knew he didn’t belong here. Not just his old-fashioned clothes, like something out of a play. In a small town like ours, you know everybody.
On the other hand, there was a playground fence between us and him. So we edged close enough to listen to his patter about magic tricks.
I still remember how the cards seemed to flash between his hands, like they’d taken a life of their own. Maybe he really did have some magic. Maybe he was just a con artist with a slick story, and he would’ve gotten us into some kind of mischief if we’d stuck around.
I know I felt uncomfortable enough to go home and tell my folks. By the time Dad brought me back, the strange little man was long gone, leaving only questions in his wake.
Over the years I tried to find answers. Instead I discovered only tantalizing hints.
I do know that encounter sparked my own fascination with stage magic. I never got good enough to make a living, but it gave me a nice little side hustle.