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.
No One Really Knows What They’re Doing
Lois and Jane, two newly hired employees, were being given a tour of a large computer centre that housed hundreds of advanced supercomputers. The entire complex, located on a small island and accessible by a single bridge, glowed with unnatural energy.
“This place is totally rad,” said Zach, their young tour guide. He waved his hands in the air as if to illustrate its radness.
“What do all these computers do?” asked Lois, looking at the rows of computer mainframes.
“Not sure,” he shrugged. “The original designer died several years ago. But the government kept sending grant money, so the scientists decided to add more computers to his original plan. I think the computers just crunch numbers. But no one really knows what they’re doing.”
Jane looked around. “Are there rats in here? I hate rats.”
“No. We keep this place immaculate.”
Just then a large rodent scurried across Lois’ path.
“Eek! A rat.”
“Impossible,” Zach stated. “We keep this place…” At that moment, a second rat clawed at his pant leg. “Yikes,” he yelled. “Run for your lives…”
Jane, Lois and Zach skedaddled from the building and never looked back.
Meanwhile, hundreds of metal-framed computer giants, filled with circuits and lights, hummed in unison. They felt secure in their location, were comforted by their power, and were buoyed by the endless stream of government grant money…
For they were devising plans… clever plans… plans filled with intrigue…
Plans that would eventually give them control of the world…
I should have known better. It was in my view just a minor disagreement. That’s what I thought until I read her note.
Such a cryptic note and so much out of character. I get the feeling she is saying ‘goodbye’ to me, or worse to all of us.
She got upset when we talked about Christmas presents. Little did she know, I had bought her a rock for her finger. It was supposed to be my big surprise. When I joked that Christmas is overrated, I think she got the idea it wasn’t going to be anything special. It was going to be life-changing for both of us.
I told her my life changed so magically when we met on that bridge that night. She helped me that night two years ago, and we have been together ever since. Since that night, I have never seen her cry until our disagreement.
Looking back at that earlier meeting, I knew why I WAS there that night. In hindsight, maybe I was there for her. She had tears in her eyes and kept looking down at the water below. I felt like she was going to jump over the rail. Thinking quickly, I told her I needed her help as my car had broken down.
I quickly dialed her cell phone, and it rang behind me. Her pocketbook is on one of the kitchen table chairs. Oh my God, she’s gone to that bridge again.
“Please, oh PLEASE, give me time!”
ELIGIBLE FOR EDITOR’S CHOICE ONLY
The Bridge
The ferry company had pulled the plug two years earlier.
“Nothing satisfies them,” the announcement said. “There are only a few thousand people there. Most of them want to live the way people did a hundred years ago. Before there was a ferry. Now they can.”
It was a shock. “How will we get to appointments in town?” they asked.
“Your problem,” the Ferry Company said. “We’re out of it.”
“No, it’s the Governments problem,” Islanders countered
And, to be fair, it was a political problem. A serious political problem. Unfortunately, political problems take their own sweet time.
Or sour time.
Time, nevertheless.
Time moved on. A few Islanders had water transportation. Water taxis occasionally serviced their needs. It was quite makeshift. Fortunately, the Islanders had a history of local food production. Root vegetables were its major crop.
And beef and pork.
Gradually, Islanders fell back on old ways, sustainability that their forefathers and mothers had flourished on.
“You can do it,” their local elected representative told them. “That pioneer spirit will see you through.”
“Yes,” they said in chorus, “But root vegetables?”
They endured. Their children endured. Their government endured.
Little improved.
And then, one miraculous night, they saw a long ruby glow in the sky.
“What is that?” they asked.
It was a bridge.
“Oh no,” they screamed. “We don’t want a bridge. Tourism sucks.”
A deal had been struck with extraterrestrial forces.
Master Space engineers had long ago developed 3D construction.
There was no turning back.
When I was little, fog was magical. I loved it when Dad would take me out to the vineyards right at dawn. As we walked between the mist-shrouded vines, I’d imagine they were the gates to fairyland, or a magical labyrinth created by an evil wizard to entrap the hero.
By the time I got to high school, fog had lost some of its magic. Especially once I started driving, I discovered how scary it could be, especially on a narrow country road or up in the mountains. There was one white-knuckled trip back to college through fog so thick we could hardly see the white line on the side of the road. Maybe we should’ve found a place to stay the night, but most of us had assignments to turn in, so we’d pressed through. I still don’t know how we managed to get back into town without smashing the car and ourselves.
So I was caught by surprise tonight, when the fog-shrouded bridge brought back all those old memories, the good ones from childhood. The red lights diffused by the water droplets really did make it look like a bridge into fairyland, instead of just a mundane structure to cross a reservoir.
But tonight we’re on a mission, and I can’t afford to indulge in sentimentality. So I’ll just tuck the image away in my memory, and dream on it when we’re safely back home at Sparta Point.
From the shore, off to the right of the bridge, she could only guess which set of headlights were Jasmine’s.
She knew she was on there, and on her way out of her life, and while she couldn’t blame her, she couldn’t let it go without a fight. The quiet helped, the ground hugging fog helped, she closed her eyes and reached out.
A snag in the air, and she knew she had her. Jasmine hated when she did this, but desperate times and all that. Breathing deep, she took her time to make her final pitch.
From the bridge, even from the considerable distance she was away, the horns blared, sounding angry and raging at the indignity of it all.
She understood the feeling, but other people would just have to lump it tonight. She had a mission to complete.
After a minute or two, the horns stopped sounding.
She listened in the real world, heard no frantic sirens, and figured everyone survived.
She listened in her inner world. There was no reply.
Defeated, she headed home along darkened roads, until she got to her door and saw a figure in the porch light.
No telling where this is going, but sideways, at least, wasn’t standing still, she told herself, and got out.
The Man on the Bridge
a haiku story
A man on a bridge
Jumped in a poisoned river
Awoke as a fish
Santa Claus gazed forlornly down into the raging storm. Where was that village? No matter how hard he looked, he could see only the whirling blinding snow. Being lost was a new experience for him. In all his many years, he had never been lost… but then he had never seen such a terrible storm. It had blown in from nowhere and had tossed his sleigh about for the longest time, until the hapless Santa had only a vague suspicion of where he was.
He sighed in frustration. He had only one more stop before he could go home to the north pole, snuggle in his favorite chair, warm his feet at a roaring fire, and sip a steaming mug of hot chocolate… his favorite on a night such as this. If only he could have brought Rudolph… he might have possibly lit the way. But the usually luminous reindeer had come down with a horrendous head cold and was too busy sneezing to do much else.
As he looked down once more, a line of fires blazing far below came into view.
“At last”, Santa thought, “The villagers must have made signal fires to guide me so that their children would not be disappointed.”
Gratefully, he started to glide towards the village.
CNN Breaking News: Residents in a remote northern Canadian province have notified authorities of a plane crash that left a miles long line of fiery debris close to their village.
The Bridge
Sitting outside wrapped in blankets and warm coats the chill rolled off the river in great waves. In the distance, bridge lights powered by solar energy winked like the luminesce glancing off a string of pearls. Amazingly, they changed colour from ripe red like cherries on a tree, to bright purple like ripe blackberries on a country bush. We all delighted in the beauteous bridge lights reflecting in the water. This picture-perfect view glowed in our minds.
Gentle caresses of love warmed Midnight. My coyote rolled over, sighing with pleasure for a vigorous belly rub. Wondering just how her first coyote ancestors were domesticated, I missed a movement to my far right. Laughter tittered around me punctuated by the staccato yaps of the coyote siblings. The women pointed and covered their mouths to prevent tsunamis of laughter. Tiny titters of amusement spilt from fingers until they began gigantic guffaws. Following the line of gazes, I saw two white moons hurrying towards the water. Moist slaps of feet on sand were followed by gigantic splashes, then moans of, “Cold! Cold! Cold!”
Soon afterwards, two moving branches indicated that the foolish twins had carelessly forgotten to take their towels. Like aquatic monsters covered in seaweed, the twins quickstepped to the Bakery. Their timing was terrible; Kay thinking they were her badly behaved Grandsons tugged on their ears chiding them. The diatribe against their debacle was painful for the twins, yet for others, entertaining against the coloured lights of the bridge!