Since You’ve Been Gone

Flash Fiction Genres Guest Posts No Comments

A guest post by Nick Ruva.

Since You’ve Been Gone

The street noise is louder now that you are gone. Horns and sirens blare their warning through glass. I do my best to tune out the life animated below my windows as I hide under sheets for just-five- minutes-more, two hours longer. You once told me this city suffocated you. It drowns me.

My Furry Reason

With an impatient look, and a whine, I know it’s time for a walk. You’re my furry reason to leave the house. Somedays, the only reason. Your exuberance is one I haven’t felt in years, one I fear I may never know again, but through you. You force me to slow down, hurry up, live.

Summer in the City

Bleating notes to chaotic downtown streets through a reed that sounds far past its usefulness, you point your horn to us and squall. As a kid, I watched your predecessors blow to subway cars and transit authorities. Today, most avoid your squeaking overture, steering around you. I close my eyes and listen to you wail.

Nobody Is Watching

Did I ever tell you my dad and I saw a UFO one late night in an Albertson’s parking lot? That was when XXXXXXXX was still XXXXXXXX. That was before he told me the government was watching his every move. Perhaps the only reason they don’t watch mine is I didn’t believe him.

 

About Nick Ruva:
Nick Ruva is a Superstars Writing Seminars survivor, two-time champion of procrastination, computer automation specialist (who has effectively replaced himself with a very complicated but elegant sorting routine), and fulltime maker-uper of tall tales… He lives in Los Angeles with a little dog named after a character in Watership Down… Not one of the rabbits though, because that would be too obvious.

 

Fish Magic

Flash Fiction Sean Golden 1 Comment

Double Nickels

This is my first article as a Fictorian, and it’s a stretch for me. People who know me are aware that I tend to be, shall we say, overly appreciative of sesquipedalian verbage. To be concise, it’s hard for me to be concise.

Writing a short story in itself is a challenge for me. Shrinking one down to 55 words is more like an inquisition.

But it was fun. Here are two attempts to pull this challenge off. Hope you like them. Or one of them at least:

The Fish

A gentle tug, then a yank.

Startled from a daydream, reflex takes over, and I knock over my beer as I jerk back on the pole.

“You got one?” Bob asks, jealousy in his tone.

I crank the reel. Nothing. It got away.

“No,” I reply. “But I had one.”

“Sure you did.” Bob smirks.

 

Alchemy

 The alchemist toils behind his table.

Glass against glass, the gurgle of tinctures and potions. The power comes as much from the delicate twist and shake of the decanter, as from the elixir contained within.

I wait, licking my lips in anticipation as the concoction bubbles.

The alchemist presents it.

Ah… bourbon and coke.

Magic.

Cinnamon Toast on Mars

Ace Jordyn Craft & Skills Flash Fiction No Comments

This was so much fun! I’ve written flash fiction before but never at precisely 55 words.

I must admit, I was daunted, But, I was determined to do it. Why?

Because I remember Kevin J. Anderson saying that when he started out in his writing career, he never turned down an assignment. Now, I live by those words, even when starting a task I’m not sure about. As writers, we have the best job in the world, one which feeds our imagination and intellect, and keeps us as amazed as a kid pressing her face against the candy store window. Research, thought, and writing the article or prose – that must always be our mantra.

So, here is my first ever double nickel:

“Cinnamon toast on Mars, that’s my third wish.”

“Really?”

“Yes. I always wanted to experience Martian Bob’s café.”

The genie waved his arms and cinnamon toast smells envelope me.

“Cinnamon toast for table three,” someone says.

Frescoes swirl on walls and ceiling, and windows flash Martian vistas.

“Your order, ma’am.”

Spikey blue tendrils grab me.

Now, my writing friends, it’s your turn!