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.
Lora lived in a world of darkness. It wasn’t s if she wanted to live in this world. She hadn’t searched it out. Quit the opposite she fled from it. But the faster she ran from it the quicker it consumed her. She had heard of something called ethereal. It was rumored to be the opposite of the darkness. As far as Lora was concerned ethereal was a myth, a holy grail you might say. She wished it was true. She was so tired of the darkness This thing called ethereal had to be real, she needed it to be real. Lora traveled the four corners of the world, still she could not find it. With great regret she decided to go home. She could not think of where else to look for it. She racked her mind where this mystical thing was called Ethereal. With so much disappointment and regret her only course of action seemed to be to abandon her quest. It seems this ethereal was not real. She took a deep breath she just gave up and thought she would never find it. All of a sudden she saw a dim light. Slowly it got brighter. Lora gasped and couldn’t believe what she was seeing. It was too good to be from this world. In fact it was ethereal.
Winnebago, Loseabagel Imaginings
Tuna Terrace! RV Park extraordinaire! Love it here. Come every year. Two weeks of vegging. Vegging by the sea. Got our favourite spot this year. Up against the shore. In the distance, mountains…far distant, they are, smokestacks on a giant cruise ship. But not tapered like mountains.
Guess I’m not giving you the gist of it all.
I mean, how I see things.
Don’t get me wrong.
Cruise ships pass by frequently. And even though I am as rested as a man can be, I do get the urge to swim out to one of those floating palaces of luxury and yell out, “Haul me aboard, Captain. Fancy a turn at sea.”
But I don’t. I just sit in the cab, stare at the sea, think about the things I want to do.
Fishing. Did it as a kid. Even got a little putt-putt here. All I have to do is launch it.
Maybe I will. You know how you get so many ideas in your head that your brain stops ticking, like a watch whose battery is on the fritz.
Maybe my brain’s on the fritz.
Maybe I’m hallucinating?
That could be it.
There’s no cruise ship.
Suddenly, little islands rise up from sea in front of me.
That’s what I’m seeing.
“Can you see that?” I ask her.
“See what?” she answers.
I glance out the windshield left and right.
No one’s running to the shore.
“Nothing.”
“Go back to sleep,” she orders.
I do.
Ethereal View
Was it possible to continue this feeling of happiness and ease? Was it possible to maintain it for longer?
In heaps we all fell down on the grass. Breathless but so happy.
After recovering from the giggles, Friedle began, “I feel ethereal. So light and delicate in a way that is almost too perfect for this world. You know other words for ethereal are airy, celestial . heavenly, supernal. Years ago, I took a boat ride somewhere in the east. Sorry, I can’t remember the location. Perhaps Bali. What I do remember is how the sea and sky melded together. Perfect blue. I would have liked to have eaten a slice of sky and sea. The sea was a crystal; it was clear, pristine and a wonder of value. Rounding out of the bay, my heart gambolled with joy. My breath caught in my mouth. The view was ethereal; it was enchanting. The mist lifted in wisps deepening the mystery and colours. Small magical islands rose out of the sea as though grown by a knowing wizard. The view was so beautiful that it pained my heart. The sea roared around the enchanted islands beckoning us to stay. It was like a Siren, yet a healthy Siren which meant us no harm. The view was serene, peaceful and magical. The dark rocks shone with feelings of hope and home. The sea stacks were there to protect the gorgeous view. The scene was ethereal. Absolutely ethereal.”
The Dawning of the Ethereal World
Nestled between the shimmering ocean and the glimmering sky, there existed an ethereal seashore.
Soft, gentle whispers rustled through the air as the breeze carried the secrets of the tides, and twinkling seashells lined the shore, their coral-coloured hues mirroring the vibrancy of the sky, even as their intricate shell patterns hid the mysteries of time.
In the heart of the seashore, a majestic rock formation towered above the water like a sentinel, its jagged edges softened by a multitude of velvety, green moss. Lustrous seaweed clung to its sides, swaying gently with the ebb and flow of the current.
Beyond the shoreline, a colourful coral reef lay hidden beneath the ocean’s surface, where schools of iridescent fish danced together, their vibrant scales shimmering like rainbows.
At twilight, when the stars adorned the sky, the seashore transformed into a realm of dreams. Soft melodies wafted through the air, as if ethereal beings were playing invisible instruments. The moonlight kissed the waves, casting a silver glow that danced upon the surface like a thousand fireflies.
Eva stood on this seashore, where the boundaries between reality and enchantment blurred, and heard the spirits of the deep whisper their ancient secrets to her.
They all said she was different; that she could never feel; never enjoy moments like this one.
But she had proved them wrong.
She could think and feel.
As an android, that would be helpful in this new post-apocalyptic, ethereal world.
“I don’t like it here.”
That was Maggie Colvin, world renowned oceanographer and director of our research team investigating the “Mangangain Ring”. Usually thought of as the Pacific version of the Bermuda Triangle, the ‘Ring’ was defined by a vague circle of immense rocky spires… may of them covered in vegetation.
“Why’s that, you think?”
“Not sure. Just a feeling I guess. But it’s like there’s something… something evil.”
For over 150 years there had been reports, many confirmed, of ships disappearing. We were here to find out the truth, if possible.
We were waiting for the medivac helicopter to take Maggie to the closest hospital. A deep cut n her foot had become severely infected to the point where it would need to be amputated if not given treatment beyond our capabilities on board our ship.
“Maybe it’s those mountains. They always remind me of rotten teeth. They’re, I don’t know… disturbing.”
It was probably just the morphine talking. Maggie had been in considerable pain.
We had been searching the area for the last three weeks and the weird thing was, we had not found a single piece of wreckage. We knew vessels had gone missing here, but we had found nothing. It was extremely frustrating and it was beginning to tell on our crew.
As we lifted off I looked down to see the magnificent spire formation. That’s when, in horror, I watched the huge beast raise it’s immense head and slowly close it jaws.
They said he couldn’t be a photographer.
He never listened to anyone before, which was why he was blind. They said it could blow up in his face. That was twenty years ago.
Now, he was a noted photographer. He had to have a guide to describe what she was seeing, and he would determine how best to capture it. Ladies felt comfortable having him take those special photos for their husbands.
However, his true love was to take the money shot. Today was that day.
Eve was his guide and when she listed the adjectives to describe the large cove, he knew today was special.
Little did he know, she studied him more than any of the vistas they explored. If he could only sense her love. He paid her well, but she would gladly pay him just to be by his side today and forever.
“Once again, Ken, it is not; dainty, graceful, beautiful, elegant, or delicate. It is certainly; alien, extraordinary, possibly spiritual, inexplicable, phenomenal, rare, uncommon, and definitely a sight to behold.”
“Eve, are you okay?”
“I’m fine, why do you ask?”
“I sense you’re crying. It isn’t the sight, is it?”
She looked at him and took a deep breath, wiping the tears. “I’m okay.” She watched him getting too close to the cliff. “Stop, you’re too close to the edge.”
He turned, displaying a magnificent contrast to the bay. “Eve, can you find a place in your heart for me?”
The ring was ethereal.
The fog hangs over the coastline, blurring the outlines of the islands and their trees into a fairy landscape. Just standing here brings back memories of childhood mornings, of walking the mist-shrouded vineyards with my father and imagining a hidden magical world alongside the ordinary one, with pixies and sprites and sylphs peeking out from behind the leaves to play tricks upon mortals.
How simple those childhood imaginings seem in retrospect. Such a nice, tidy world where the sides were easy to identify, seelie and unseelie courts like in the storybooks I loved to read. So I always knew my heroes from my villains, and adventures in the imagined world always ended happily.
Not so the world in which I now live. To fight the madness that has overtaken my country, I am working in an organization led by a man who by every measure should be a villain. And there is no guarantee that, even if we prove victorious, we can restore the country I remember from my childhood, where people agree that the secret experiments were unethical, but the people who were touched by them should be treated as victims, not co-culprits. People like me, and my children, and the children they may some day have.
But coming here reminds me that, even if we cannot attain a perfect fairy-tale ending, the effort is worthwhile. That some things are worth fighting for, even if we fail.