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.
One Summer’s Eve
We pulled into downtown Hermosa Labor Day Sunday. I wasn’t in a chatty mood, but Baylor wanted human activity.
“Looks like a festival. Let’s check it out.”
“Local crafts, ” I stated. “Seen plenty. Besides, we have business.”
“We’ve got time…Midnight…end of the pier.”
“I don’t like it. Friggin’ midnight. Halfway out into the ocean. And I don’t swim.”
“We’ll stick to the plan. And the pier. Get the name and location of the mark, the hit, and then on the Freeway. Scoot down # 5, and by dawn, we’ll be snoozing in Tijuana.”
It was Baylor’s call. I hated that, his being the lead, but there was no getting away that I was the caboose on this train.
“Fine. But I like showin’ up way earlier. You know this joker, but I don’t.“
“I know ‘em. I trust ‘em. You know me. You sayin’ you got doubts about me?”
I did but I couldn’t say it.
And I didn’t like all the people. There were thousands out on this warm late summer night. Any one of them could be a risk. They were snappin’ photos, looking innocent but those were the ones who’d bite you on your butt…thousands of them.
Around 11, we returned to the car and drove to within a block of the pier.
At midnight we were on the pier.
Baylor, the contact, and me.
Poor Baylor.
He didn’t see it coming.
Two quick shots.
Bodies in the sea.
Mexico, here I come.
The excitement in the air could literally be felt as though it were coming from the electricity powering all of the lights which was adding sparkle to the setting of the local community festival. He walked along slowly, carefully looking side to side, looking for someone in particular. A woman he’d seen only a few days earlier drinking coffee at one of the outside cafes. He could still remember vividly the details of her face, her outfit, and her seeming completely at ease manner in which she sat. Her hair the finest color of auburn of such that you might see in an autumn leaf. The sounds emitting from the crowd were joyful although he really didn’t hear anything in particular. His walking manner was a generally slight zigzag in the middle of the street as opposed to be symmetrically straight. His eyes were devouring the facial features of every woman he saw. In the shops with large glass windows he would pause and peer intently inside hoping for just a glimpse of whom he sought. Just past the halfway point down the street his heart skipped a beat. There she was sitting alone enjoying what appeared to be coffee. Gathering his courage he approached her.
“Hi, would you mind if I joined you?”
She looked up at him and asked, “Why would you want to?”
“Because I find you intriguing.”
She looked at him in silence and then, “Yes you may and please tell me why.”
Hermosa Payback
Now I thought that was truth in advertising. Hermosa meant beautiful is Spanish and this quaint promenade lived up to that description, a typical tourist’s dream.
I took a drink from my icy cerveza and eyed the passers-by. Someone was not who they seemed to be, just as I was not what I looked like.
I played a tourista, beer in one hand and a smile on my face while considering my next move. Another beer? Chat up one of the local chicas? Or join the loud young Americans whooping it up?
Nah, I had a wrong to make right. As they say, business first, then pleasure. My left hand held my beer as my right palm cradled the .45 pistol grip in my jacket pocket. We received proof of life and the advance team delivered the ransom.
The voice in my earpiece said the package arrived, and the kidnapped toddler was just fine. Take out the perps were the last words I heard before command deactivated the device.
My cell pinged on the tracker as the messenger bag passed my location. I stood to follow the target, going up the outside stairs to a room over the bar. No one noticed as I climbed the steps and listened at the door. The laughter inside stopped as I double-tapped the three bad guys.
I was the only one laughing when I headed down the stairs with the recovered ransom money bag. Street justice delivered by the good guys.
Plastic
“Stop right there, Mam. Hey you, I said stop right there!”
“Are you talking to me, you little sh*t?”
“Yes, I am. You can’t go on our beach dressed like that.”
“It’s a free country, and I plan on doing just that, and I suggest you not try to stop me.”
“I have complete authority to stop people who might degrade our “BLUE CITY” recognition and recent certification.”
“What the h*ll is that, and why are you telling me I can’t go on the beach?”
“It’s what you are wearing, your bathing suit, Mam.”
“I thought it would catch people’s eyes, but I expected that on the beach, not at the gate. Is it because it’s transparent?”
“Well, no. I had to look twice to make sure you were indeed wearing something. Since you are wearing plastic, we can’t allow that on the beach, as it is one of the products that is now banned.”
“I can’t believe where this country is going! So, you are telling me that because my suit is plastic, and not that it is see-through, you are preventing me from going on the beach?”
“That’s correct.”
“Well then, that is easily solved.”
With a couple of quick movements, she deposited the plastic covering in his hand, and accentuated her wiggle all the way to the crowded beach.
When many of the beach goers applauded her entrance, she knew he couldn’t see her ear-to-ear smile.
It’s a tough job, but someone has to do it!
It was supposed to be a quick trip down I-10 to San Antonio. An old Air Force buddy of Sid’s had been stationed at Randolph, so of course Sid wanted to go see him. The drive was long enough that Sid wanted a wingman, and I was getting froggy from all the meetings here at Johnson, so I said sure, just don’t tell anyone I’m Navy.
Driving I-10 wasn’t that bad – heck, it was downright smooth compared to the inbound Ryan on a Monday morning. But just as we were entering San Antonio, we jumped off the Interstate to grab some gas and visit the head, and somehow we got turned around in the gas station parking lot. The harder we tried to find our way back, the more lost we got.
Here we are, two astronauts who can’t find our way across town, blundering into a street party in a Hispanic neighborhood. I wasn’t sure whether these folks would rib us or knife us – but the next thing I knew, someone’s handing me a combo plate and a beer with a Mexican label. Of course Sid’s dark enough he gets mistaken for a Mexican if he’s been out in the sun long enough, so they may have thought he was a long-lost cousin.
About an hour later, we were back on the road with local directions. Somehow the visit with Sid’s buddy wasn’t quite as fun as our accidental encounter.
The first gunshot hadn’t stopped echoing before the screaming began. The second and third reports silenced many of those who witnessed the first body falling. Nobody wanted to be the next notch on the sniper’s gun barrel.
And into this, we came, the family at war with itself. We were sniping at one another, snapping off sarcastic rejoinders as casually as taking our next breaths.
“You shouldn’t have had that last drink,” Amy snarled, shattering a bottle against the bar, jabbing it at the face of the barkeeper. He dropped to the ground out of sight, blood welling through the gaps in the mask he made with his fingers.
I shrugged, picked up a stool, then smashed it across a table to fashion a stake. “So says the woman who drank an even thirty shots in a session,” I growled, dispatching another unlucky customer.
The twins followed us, a paired blur of boots and elbows, leaving a trail of broken bodies in their wake. Lucrezia had punched a woman in the face, double handing her on the back of her head as she crumpled. Ivan had both combat knives in play, filleting anybody passing within reach.
And so, it went on until we were all bloody-faced, exhausted and drained of our ire, the ‘Holiday from Hell’ simulation satisfying us all. The family that fought together had nothing left now to vent – we would re-bond with the others later after the nurses in the recovery ward treated our injuries.
Shenanigans in Cyberspace
Doctor Anomaly and BIG THINK, the supercomputer, were using experimental equipment to explore cyberspace for the first time. The doctor had the avatar of a scientist, while the supercomputer donned the guise of a floating eye.
After walking together for several minutes, BIG THINK turned it’s eye towards the doctor and blinked. “I see you.”
“Verrry funny.”
BIG THINK huffed. “Humour me. I rarely get out of the house.”
“You’re a computer.”
“Supercomputer.”
Changing the subject, the doctor asked, “I hope we’ll be safe wandering around in cyberspace.”
“Don’t worry, I have a karate manual in my memory banks.”
“Great.”
Just then, BIG THINK’s avatar eye began bobbing up and down. “Hermosa!”
“The city you see in the distance is not Hermosa. We’re in cyberspace. Remember?”
The supercomputer glanced at the doctor. “I’m not referring to a city. The word, hermosa, has many meanings. It can also mean someone who is incredibly amazing.”
“Got anyone in mind?”
“Ahem.” BIG THINK glanced at the doctor and then bounced it’s eye up and down in the air. “I don’t want to brag, but I can calculate PI to six thousand decimal places…”
“All right, show off. So you’re a calculating whiz.”
As the doctor was talking, BIG THINK looked up. “People are flying here. Is that possible?”
“Sure. As you can clearly see.”
BIG THINK immediately propelled its eye high into the air. “Wheeeee… I’m freeee…”
Doctor Anomaly shook his head. “I swear, that computer is worse than an 8-year old.”
By noon the band was playing and the villagers of Hermosa danced in the street. Today the soldiers would return home with their victory and rewards in hand. Maria scanned the horizon for a glimpse of her husband, Miguel.
Shortly after Texas seceded from Estados Unidos, Mexico’s President Rodriguez invaded. All the young men who enlisted were promised land in the north. The war lasted less than six months, and Mexico suffered few casualties.
When Maria sees Miguel disembark from a truck, she rushes to him. She wants Miguel to dance with her, but he leads her toward their small home.
Excited, Maria asks,” When can we move north and claim our land?”
Miguel frowns. “Let me tell you about the war, first.”
Maria’s not sure she wants to hear this, but she nods her head.
“The Texas militia was only a small band of old men,” he says. “After a short skirmish at the river, our army moved quickly through the territory.”
Then Miguel shakes his head. “Most fields and houses stood empty. The people had emigrated north.”
Maria claps her hands. “Who knew it would be so easy?”
Miguel grasps her wrists. “There’s a reason,” he says. “Texas is a barren wasteland. No farms, no ranches, no water.”
His hands fall to his sides. “We cannot make a home there. Those filthy Americanos destroyed it with their greed and pollution. Then they ran away.”
At that moment, the band stops playing and the people quit dancing.
“Is this seat taken?” Henry asked the dark-haired lady sitting next to an empty barstool.
“It may be, I’m waiting to meet someone. But you are welcome to sit there until they come,” she answered.
“Thanks, I’m also waiting for someone, but am not sure she will show up.”
“Really? Why are you not sure?”
“Well, we made a date to meet here over 21 years ago. So, I’m not sure she will show up.”
“Interesting,” she said making eye contact, “tell me more.”
“It was New Years’, 2001. We met on Hermosa pier and struck up a conversation. She was distraught. Her boyfriend had just left her. She was actually considering jumping until we started talking. We talked until sunrise. I had to leave that morning and we agreed to meet again, here, at the Lighthouse Cafe, on 2/2/22, at midnight. We both had a thing with numbers. I always wondered about her. We only shared first names.”
“Was her first name Lisa?”
“Yes! It was.” Henry’s eyes widened.
“Then you would be Henry,” she smiled.
“Wow …” Henry looked around the bar then back to the woman, “How do you know that?”
“Lisa spoke of that night many times and would be here if she could. I’m sorry to tell you, but she passed away five years ago.”
After a long pause, Henry asked, “How did you know Lisa?”
“Lisa was my wife. I came here to thank you. From both of us.”
Hermosa
Walking in Hermosa next to my svelte and soigne girlfriend, I felt like a million pounds sterling rather than a nillionaire. Luckily she was so in tune with me; we both craved an inglenook to share where we could pursue quiet activities. Yet, we were thrown into the limelight because she had been discovered while out walking foster dogs by some big shot director. The director made her a bodacious film star, so we were heading to an award ceremony. Queenly, she glided along a red carpet while the paparazzi snapped numerous photos nearly blinding us with their flashlights. All extremely overwhelming for two introverts. We were surrounded by artificial stars spouting platitudes and photics surrounded by palms and showbiz.
Unfortunately, enhanced bosoms, plastic thighs and botox encircled us. Disturbing that the film industry thought beautification meant plastification. Being naturally beautiful, my girl brushed the makeup artists away. While she was being posed for photos a hairy mutt sat on her elegant train as though he belonged. Rather than scream with indignity, she chuckled with delight. The media snapped a wonderful photo of them, crowds cheered and the pooch was adopted by us. Not wanting to do anything by halves, she also promised to give a sizable cheque to conservation. Before leaving the photographers, she swirled a black cloak around her and was suddenly wearing a blue and yellow sparkly gown. Well, my girlfriend may have been hopelessly shy, but she advertised her support for the Ukraine.