Flash Fiction Challenge: Not In My Town

flash fiction writing prompt chicago
Photo copyright K. S. Brooks. Do not use without attribution.

Officer Stroud stood at the spot the mutilated body had been found last night. He could still smell the blood.

He knew exactly what had happened. Of course, he couldn’t tell anyone. They would think he was crazy. Even if they believed him, he couldn’t explain to them how he knew. No, he was in this alone.

Not this. Not in my town. As he replaced the bullets in his magazine with his own silver-tipped magnums, the moon crested over the horizon. He could feel the light from it searing his skin and he could smell the thing. It was near.

He looked up to see one of the carnival workers creeping along the opposite wall. In the moonlight he could see its eyes already beginning to glow amber…


Welcome to the Indies Unlimited Flash Fiction Challenge. In 250 words or less, write a story incorporating the elements in the picture and the written prompt above. Do not include the prompt in your entry. 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 afternoon, 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 2016.

Flash Fiction Challenge: The Blind

flash fiction writing prompt cusick truck
Photo copyright K. S. Brooks. Do not use without attribution.

Dwight shrugged and asked, “So, what is it?”

Seeing his big brother didn’t quite get it, Dewey explained, “It’s our new huntin’ blind. Ain’t it perfect?”

Dwight sighed. “How is it perfect, Dewey? If we can see it, don’t you think the elk might see it too?”

Dewey’s enthusiasm temporarily dimmed as he considered this. Then he snapped his fingers and said, “But it’s been out here a long time and they is probbly used to it.”

Dwight arched his eyebrows and decided maybe that made sense after all. They clambered inside to check it out. As they jostled about trying to get comfortable and disputing where their various supplies would go, the grizzly bear that had been watching the whole thing decided to pay a visit to these aspiring neighbors…


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Flash Fiction Challenge: Paradise Lost

flash fiction writing prompt 1998 cozumel dock
Photo copyright K. S. Brooks. Do not use without attribution.

Donovan basked lazily in the hammock as the gentle Caribbean breeze caressed him. Alone on this tiny out-of-the-way island, he could at last live the simple life.

Here, he could just let time wash over him. He ate fresh fish and crab and fruit. He didn’t have to worry about shooting anyone or being shot at. He didn’t have to cope with any plans cooked up by idiot desk jockeys back in Washington. Most of all, he didn’t have to think about her.

He frowned as he rubbed at the ropy scar on his left shoulder. The aching in the old wound always seemed to portend trouble.

His brow furrowed as he heard a familiar low thrumming. Of course. He looked out over the water to see an all-too-familiar little black dot in the sky.

As the whir of the helicopter grew louder and unmistakable, Donovan swung from the hammock and walked back to his hut…


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Flash Fiction Challenge: Can’t Go Home

flash fiction writing prompt jersey city graffiti 12 2006
Photo copyright K. S. Brooks. Do not use without attribution.

Taranto stepped out of the limousine and eyed the area with dismay. The old warehouse district had decayed something awful.

Thirty years ago, he was a kid loading trucks in that very warehouse.

Time changes everything. The ten years Taranto did in the slammer changed him too. He shared the feeling of decay. He shook his head slowly and walked toward the door. No matter. If the building is still standing, the money will still be where I hid it.

But Taranto did not know he was being watched…


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