Flash Fiction February: Chapter Seven

I'm writing a novella! Kinda. I'm more so just throwing some words on the page, but I can't do that without attention. Also calling this flash fiction is a little misleading. Sure some days I might only write two paragraphs, but generally you can expect a little more than that. And yes, they will be (by and large) unedited.

Tune back every weekday in February to see how this tale turns out. It'll be dumb, I'm sure. Feel free to throw suggestions at me anytime to get mentioned at the end of each chapter (if I use your idea). Enjoy!

Start from the beginning

Previous Chapter <<
Next Chapter >> (not live yet)

~~~~~

Daryl and Hanna continued to watch the flames consumed the bridge, They made themselves at home with massage chairs they pushed out of one of the parlors. A fire was easier entertainment to follow than a guy carried off by a falcon, they figured. The ladies hollered and cheered as the embers finally reached the right of the bridge, but before the structure began to dissolve and fill the corridors with smoke, a figure in a burgundy hood approached with a fire extinguisher in hand. The crowd of two boo'd as the hooded quenched the flames thirst for consumption. It wasn't long before the figure put out the source of the fire and dug among the ashes. "Mmm. Pity," they said as they pulled on a hand and no arm followed behind it. "Do you two know what happen here?" they called to the women in the peanut gallery. The ladies refused to give any answers, claiming not to be snitches and spouting phrases like: If you snooze you lose. "Fine. I always did enjoy playing with a handicap." The figure flipped a switch on the extinguisher and sprayed foam over the side of the bridge hitting Hanna. She let out a scream before her voice was muffled by the encasing froth. Daryl barrel rolled out of her massage chair and ran the down the hall from whence she came. The hooded character sifted through the wreckage until they found a rectangular piece of plastic. Brushing it off, they leaned over the banister and threw it at the lump formerly known as Hanna. "That's for you," they yelled down. A hand poked out of the cocoon and caught the thin rectangle revealing what was written on it: Penny Marks.

~~~~~

Next Chapter >> (not live yet)

Prompt contributor(s):

Kingdom Heart's Organization XIII

Flash Fiction February: Chapter Six

I'm writing a novella! Kinda. I'm more so just throwing some words on the page, but I can't do that without attention. Also calling this flash fiction is a little misleading. Sure some days I might only write two paragraphs, but generally you can expect a little more than that. And yes, they will be (by and large) unedited.

Tune back every weekday in February to see how this tale turns out. It'll be dumb, I'm sure. Feel free to throw suggestions at me anytime to get mentioned at the end of each chapter (if I use your idea). Enjoy!

Start from the beginning

Previous Chapter <<
Next Chapter >>

~~~~~

Terrence collapsed on the unswept floor as he gasped for air, stretching out his shirt collar in an attempt to rip it to shreds so it could do him no more harm. After a coughing fit, he regained half his composure and began to look around an even more abandoned section of the airport. Perhaps he was finally alone. The two women hadn't followed him, but he still felt like he was being watched. It was then that he felt something land on his head, what felt like a light grasp.

Attempting not to freak out, Terrence slipped his hands in his pockets to resist investigating whatever was now riding him. It could be gross or have sharp teeth, he thought. Pivoting his eyes and head slowly, he searched for a mirror while he tiptoed down the hall. Part of him wanted to attempt a somersault to free himself, but he didn't want to risk whatever had claimed him startling and ripping off his head.

After five minutes and .2 kilometers of light footing, Terrence started to realize this airport did not support vanity in the slightest. Probably for the best, he thought, most people show up looking busted... unless they were Uncanny. The creature's grip pulsed causing Terrence to drop to his knees. He pulled his hands out of his pockets in time to resist smacking his head against the floor. As he pushed himself up, he noticed the clouds were getting thicker and causing heavier snowfall. A light flickered between him and the wall length window, and he began to see his reflection. He looked pathetic next to the falcon possessing him.

Terrence's eyes widening as he tilted his head up to catch a glimpse but was unable to. He felt a weight pull him backwards, but he resisted and returned his gaze to the window. A falcon with navy blue feathers, white feathers accenting his wings and tail, had perched atop Terrence's modest melon. Terrence slowly rose to his feet and noticed the falcon probably added three feet to his height.

He attempted to address it, but it squealed at his first syllable. Withstanding the audible assault, he tried again. "Hi." He waved to the mirror. "Yeah, I'm talking to you." The falcon tilted its head. "I'm not gonna hurt you; I just wanna understand you." He raised his right arm and reached for the falcon's upper leg to pet it.

Before he could, the falcon back jumped down onto his shoulders and began to flap its wings. Terrence felt his feet leave the ground at the same rate he felt his sense of control flee. What new hell awaited him? As he surrendered his body, he felt the bird move backwards and then suddenly jolt towards the window. Terrence yipped in horror as he braced for yet another harsh impact.

Cold air whipped across his face. His nose tingled. Terrence opened his eyes: he was hovering in the middle of a snowstorm.

~~~~~

Next Chapter >>

Prompt contributor(s): just me

Flash Fiction February: Chapter Five

I'm writing a novella! Kinda. I'm more so just throwing some words on the page, but I can't do that without attention. Also calling this flash fiction is a little misleading. Sure some days I might only write two paragraphs, but generally you can expect a little more than that. And yes, they will be (by and large) unedited.

Tune back every weekday in February to see how this tale turns out. It'll be dumb, I'm sure. Feel free to throw suggestions at me anytime to get mentioned at the end of each chapter (if I use your idea). Enjoy!

Start from the beginning

Previous Chapter <<

Next Chapter >>

~~~~~

The corridors of the east wing almost seemed abandoned save the LED signs of arriving and departing flights that added an hour delay to a flight every three minutes. The howling wind slammed falling clumps of snow against the floor-to-ceiling windows. And that bitch cackled to themselves behind an unattended attendant counter.

Their phone kept buzzing with notifications as if someone was calling bitch, so bitch whipped it out to find it wasn't Terrence live-tweeting his experience like bitch had hoped but the Google alerts bitch set up to track Yanny. Apparently Yanny had found herself in Cairo after dreaming she was Anubis, Uncanny assumed. While there, she confused the culture of the environment and screamed, "I'm Aladdin, bitch, and this is my Apu!" The article mentioned she probably meant to say "Abu" but "Apu" was appropriate as she relived herself in front of a produce stand before escaping via rooftop hopping. Thanks to the aerial view of the surprisingly massive shit Yanny left behind, Uncanny was able to see the message she left behind: bitch written in Arabic.

Immediately amused and charmed, Uncanny barrel rolled over to the closest window. That bitch squinted into the afternoon sun until bitch saw a satellite surveying the area. Readjusting to place both hands on the window, the bitch focused their energy to swirl snow around until a cleared out patch of runway read "Laurel" in frosty white flakes.

"That should get her here in an hour or two, don't you think, Rupert?" Uncanny turned behind him.

Rustling awake from a plastic chair, Rupert looked past his master and squawked.

"Of course I checked. If that satellite doesn't pick up the image, I'm sure some dumbass local news chopper will soon." Their smile unraveled. "She has to see it. She'll make all of this so much easier."

Rupert twisted the head upside down.

"Yeah, yeah, I'll break up with her. ...once I find Terrence and assure he's mine."

A tweet left Rupert's beak this time.

"Excuse me?"

Rupert repeated himself but he didn't like it.

"I didn't know you could sense each other. Makes sense, but still. You were holding out on me, but you know how I love a reveal," their smile returned.

Uncanny's companion took flight, circling around that bitch until he darted towards their destination. It wasn't until he was halfway down the hall that Rupert didn't feel a presence trailing him. He returned to his master.

"Oh yeah, I'm in no rush. I mean honestly, I doubt anyone will be somewhere I can't find them," that bitch shared. "Especially with our powers combined. Now, where is your brother, Rupert?"

~~~~~

Next Chapter >>

Prompt contributor(s):

Renee Wallace: Lovers that only meet online that are trolls irl 

Flash Fiction February: Chapter Four

I'm writing a novella! Kinda. I'm more so just throwing some words on the page, but I can't do that without attention. Also calling this flash fiction is a little misleading. Sure some days I might only write two paragraphs, but generally you can expect a little more than that. And yes, they will be (by and large) unedited.

Tune back every weekday in February to see how this tale turns out. It'll be dumb, I'm sure. Feel free to throw suggestions at me anytime to get mentioned at the end of each chapter (if I use your idea). Enjoy!

Start from the beginning
Previous Chapter <<

Next Chapter >>

~~~~~

Terrence's feet dangled below him as he grasped the bridge's bottom rail, unaware of the crackling fire that was slowly consuming the poor, unsuspecting teddy bear display. He tried to pull himself up but found the task to challenging without something to push off of. He looked to his right and saw the wall couldn't be more than fifteen feet away. Too nervous to fully sway his way over, Terrence scooted his hands across, unintentionally cleaning the rail. Dust fell into his face, which he tried to shake off, but before long he was wildly sneezing. His body shook wildly as he struggled to clinch the rail without covering his face.

"Juuuuummp!" a voice shouted from below. Terrence composed himself and saw two women on the floor below him. 

"Daryl, he's gonna break his fucking neck if he does that. Besides, how is he gonna jump if his feet aren't even on the ground," her friend commented. "I know. Do a somersault!" 

"What is he, the Boy Wonder?" Daryl joked.

"Nerd."

"Whatever, Hanna. We both wanna see him fall." Daryl picked up a flyer from the display wall and attempted to fling it at Terrence, but it unfolded three feet in front of her.

Hanna followed suit but with a magazine two rows down. "Like this." Her attempt was more successful, missing Terrence's foot by the distance he had managed to move since the two women noticed him. 

Terrence wanted to assume they were from the TSA line, but he hated the thought of anyone - especially women - being taller than him. With attention divided, a section of particularly dusty rail gave him the slip and his right hand fell to his side. By now, Hanna and Daryl had found pens and increased their accuracy. He could fell small objects drumming the small of his back and butt, unsure of how much longer he could hold out. 

Without warning, Penny's mini-cart exploded and shook the bridge and hurled Terrence off. His reaction time improving, he curled into a ball to prepare for impact when he noticed a blue feather fall in front of him. Next he felt something yank at his shirt collar, forcing him to unfurl as he choked. 

As his mysterious but questionable savior carried him down the hall, he heard Daryl shout, "Shit. He's fuckin Birdman."

~~~~~

Next Chapter >>

Prompt contributor(s):

Nobody - I needed to figure out my own direction

Flash Fiction February: Chapter Three

I'm writing a novella! Kinda. I'm more so just throwing some words on the page, but I can't do that without attention. Also calling this flash fiction is a little misleading. Sure some days I might only write two paragraphs, but generally you can expect a little more than that. And yes, they will be (by and large) unedited.

Tune back every weekday in February to see how this tale turns out. It'll be dumb, I'm sure. Feel free to throw suggestions at me anytime to get mentioned at the end of each chapter (if I use your idea). Enjoy!

Start from the beginning

Previous Chapter <<

Next Chapter >>

~~~~~

Flight 427 was delayed by three hours in the hopes the snow would soon die down, but it was unlikely. Terrence didn't see any maintenance workers outside. Not even a traffic controller, or whatever the guys with the glowing sticks were called. The attendants were absent from his gate, as well. In fact, only a sleeping couple sat in his appointed area. He didn't want to waste time scrolling Twitter in case the power went out, so he sat bored for twenty minutes with his feet dangling in front of him. "I hate this."

He leaped out of his seat and started doing jumping jacks. Something had to trigger a growth spurt to restore him to his proper 6" glow. His knees started to give out around 121 jacks, so he walked over to the wall with panels he figured were about six square inches. He was still a full four finger short from clearing what must have been 5'6". Before he could try his next get-tall-quick scheme, his stomach growled. In his rush to be two hours early for his flight, he forgot to back any snacks or lunch.

There wasn't a fragrance in the air (besides stale carpet), but Terrence recalled seeing a sandwich shop on his sprint over. He reluctantly placed his carry-ons next to the sleeping couple and crept away to the sandwich shop six gates down only to find it was closed. It seemed like he would be trapped in BWI  for the next four-six hours with no food. His knees felt even weaker.

"Hey shorty," a familiar voice called. "Looks like you could use these." A bag shook in their hand

Terrence turned to find a paper stand he somehow missed before. The sign didn't read Hudson News like they usually do but Metro Station. It seemed out of place, but he just wanted to see what the stranger had to offer. Once he got closer, Terrence realized the stranger was a slightly taller Penelope holding a bag of cashews.

"Penelope! I knew you couldn't be dead," he went in for a hug.

She dodged his advance. "I'm sorry, do I know you?" 

Terrence felt rejected, by soon remembered they barely spent three minutes together before blood started spilling out of her head. It was probably just short term memory loss, but where was her bandages or better yet her wound. She looked fine. "Oops. I guess not. You just look like someone I used to know." He looked over her inventory. "Do you have anything besides nuts for sale? I'm slightly allergic."

"Too good for nuts, huh? What kind of queer are you? Naw, can't help you there," she said as she started to reach behind her.

"How did you... wait are those Pop-Tarts behind you? They are! Like a whole box of individually wrapped ones for sale."

She turned her back to Terrence. "Not happening."

"Oh come on, Penelope." He reached for his wait, I'll give you five bucks for two packs."

"Fuck you, my name's Penny."

Terrence was confused, by he didn't have time to argue over her name tag or nickname. His hunger was taking control. "Fine, five bucks for one pack."

"I said no sale." Penny started to motion to the gate above her but before she reached it Terrence jumped across the counter and grabbed a pack of Strawberry flavored Pop-Tarts. Her eyes widened as he jumped back down. "M-my favorite. Thief!"

Before Terrence can fully react, his legs started running. Behind him he heard a boom; Penny kicked her counter down to reveal a mini-cart. She rode after him, quickly gaining on him. Terrence didn't have much faith in his stunted legs, but he saw his chance to ditch a newly homicidal employee. Just before Penny can clip his heels, he reached the bridge and jumped over the ledge as she whizzes by and crashes into a stuffed bear stand.

~~~~~

Next Chapter >>

Prompt contributor(s):

Joe Kennedy: Liam Neeson's daughter is killed when a special Retro-Strawberry-Frosted box of Pop-Tarts causes her toaster to explode into a ball of flame, and we're in for an action packed ride, as he stops at nothing to avenge her, take out Kellogg's henceman who are trained in an un-named sugary martial art, inspired by Aikido, explosions to his back and bullets to his front.

Flash Fiction February - Chapter Two

I'm writing a novella! Kinda. I'm more so just throwing some words on the page, but I can't do that without attention. Also calling this flash fiction is a little misleading. Sure some days I might only write two paragraphs, but generally you can expect a little more than that. And yes, they will be (by and large) unedited.
Tune back every weekday in February to see how this tale turns out. It'll be dumb, I'm sure. Feel free to throw suggestions at me anytime to get mentioned at the end of each chapter (if I use your idea). Enjoy!

Start from the beginning

Next Chapter >>

~~~~~

As if time froze and a spot-operator highlighted him, Terrence used his thumb to unlock his phone and open the app. As he figured, one user was probably a bot: its avatar was still an egg. The other had to belong to newfound stalker; the avatar to that account featured a figure shrouded in a blood orange veil. It was a breathtaking picture given the midnight blue sky behind them. Terrence temporarily lowered his defenses as the glow around him faded. Shaking his head, he finally turned around to behold the magnificent creature behind him. “Are you The Uncanny_Dola?”

At 6’4’, they towered over the recently reduced Terrence. Lavender streaks alternated with their natural blonde hair that touched their lower back, which he envied. As if they also missed the snow memo, a tank top vest combo and short shorts exposed their sun-kissed skin enough to leave them racially ambiguous, yet they wore combat boots to add weight to their slender frame. He seemed more magical than real.

“Like I told that leaking corpse on the floor, you can call me bitch. But I guess that’s just my pronoun? I’m still getting used to my liberated self.” That bitch pondered for a bit, extending their arm to tap on Terrence’s trimmed head. Bitch palmed it once they reached a conclusion. “But yes, I am Uncanny_Dola. No need for the ‘The.’ I suppose you can call me Uncanny for short.”

“Oh, not Dola?” he asked shaking himself free from Uncanny’s awkward grasp.

“Clearly that’s my last name.”

Terrence picked up his luggage. “I don’t want to assume anything about you,” he said slowly starting to back away, certain he wouldn’t get far. His interest was peaked, but for some reason he still felt an urge to run to his flight’s departure gate.

“Fair enough. I promise I don’t offend that easily when the intention is right. Or when a person is as attractive as you are.” Terrence paused. He hadn’t considered himself any where near perfect since he started sporting a tiny beer belly, even less so now that he was suddenly shorter. “Yes, I’m talking about you, but clearly you have somewhere to run off to.”

Terrence stuttered, then turned around in embarrassment. He could feel the sweat pool on the nape of his neck. Before he could remove his jacket, he noticed blood had started to surround his feet and jumped.

“It’s a good thing she hadn’t asked you to take off your socks yet,” Uncanny smirked. “Go. I’ll take care of her. I’ll just follow the trail of your new Louboutins.” As if permission was all he needed, Terrence darted through the screening area and made a sharp right turn before quickly realizing his gate was the other direction. He waved to bitch as he rerouted.

Uncanny pulled their hands to their face. Terrence was just as endearing in person as bitch had hoped. Bitch twirled in delight as their long vest lifted in the vortex, stopping to look in Penelope’s direction. “How many of there are you?” Bitch walked towards her until that bitch heard a rustling from a vent in the wall. “Is that you?” bitch called out.

The vent gate went flying across the room with a hard thud against the opposing wall. A bluejay squawked as it emerged, a few feathers missing.

“Oh thank gawd, I thought you were already baked. Come to me.” The bird jumped into Uncanny’s arms. “Now, what did you find out for me?” This time the bird tweeted. “Really? That mean? And the others?” It tweeted again. “Oh, I’d be so ill-prepared without you. Come on, let’s find your brother and sister; I’m sure they found their own way in. Or should I follow the pretty man, first?” Uncanny only took three steps before bitch heard a crunch beneath their boot. Bitch stuck their tongue out in disgust. “Right, I almost forgot about you.” Bitch removed a pouch from an inside vest pocket and sprinkled a portion of its contents over Penelope who started to dissolve.

“Okay, Rupert. Let’s go while security is still down.” As Uncanny strolled through the security gate, not even a trace of Penelope’s blood remained.

~~~~~

Next Chapter >>

Prompt contributor(s):

Adam Lee: Someone learns how to talk to birds and likes to listen to the gossip all the birds hear

Flash Fiction February - Chapter One

I'm writing a novella! Kinda. I'm more so just throwing some words on the page, but I can't do that without attention. Also calling this flash fiction is a little misleading. Sure some days I might only write two paragraphs, but generally you can expect a little more than that. And yes, they will be (by and large) unedited.

Tune back every weekday in February to see how this tale turns out. It'll be dumb, I'm sure. Feel free to throw suggestions at me anytime to get mentioned at the end of each chapter (if I use your idea). Enjoy!

Next Chapter >>

~~~~~

Usually avoiding fluorescent lighting was a blessing, but Terrence didn’t feel that way today. After hearing that the government shutdown was temporarily suspended, he was again excited for his trip to Dublin. Missing the authentic and plentiful varieties of whiskey, he was eager to reclaim his title as Black Irish. Instead, a blizzard plagued BWI so fiercely it knocked the power out completely.

As the backup generators buzzed and dim yellow lights illuminated the halls, Terrence timidly approached TSA to find only one officer working. It appeared most of the employees were still boycotting or too broke to afford gas money or bus fare to work. Or maybe they knew the blizzard was coming. Why didn’t anyone warn him? He was one of the few passengers in the airport

He arrived to the TSA gate to find what looked like a preteen girl in a TSA uniform. He rubbed his eyes knowing “black don’t crack” but not this severely, yet sure enough there she was: hazel colored hair, blue contact lenses, abnormally taller for a girl her age - or so Terrence assumed - and a nametag that read Penny Marks.

“Well, g’morning, Penny. How are you? Some weather, right” he asked.

“My name is Penelope,” she responded without any childlike innocence. Perhaps she was older than he thought after all.

“Oh, my bad. It’s just your nametag…”

“I keep trying to rip it off this uniform, but every time I do it reappears. Even tried covering it with tape but it won’t stick. I ain’t gone by Penny since I was eight.” A shitty clue for our protagonist, still trying to figure out how to address her. “I would ask for your ID or passport, but I really don’t care. I just care too much about perfect attendance.”

A school bell rung. Terrence felt a presence behind him and turned to look: five more passengers lined up behind him, all in ascending height order from him. Suddenly he was at eye level with the TSA’s kiosk. Startled, he jumped back. He really liked being 6’0” and he was sure only 5’4” at best now.

“Ow, that’s my toe, bitch,” screamed the twenty-year old behind him.

Penelope looked down on him now. “So, where you headed?”

“He’s going to Ireland,” the tallest among them answered.

“Excuse me, sir, I’m gonna need you to mind your business at the back of the line where you belong!” she commanded.

“Actually, I prefer…” they had to think for a moment, “sa’am. No. Ma’ir? Yikes, fuck that. Just call me bitch. That gender neutral enough.”

Penelope’s eyes rolled so far back she fell off her stool and passed out. With her body’s thud, four of the passengers ran through the gate. Only Terrence and the tall passenger remained behind. For some reason, Terrence found himself concerned with Penelope’s well being, as if she served some purpose beyond this role.

“Don’t worry about her,” the tallest said. “ I’m pretty sure she’s dead. Ooup, yup. There’s that small stream of blood now. You know those highchairs are surprisingly higher than you think. You’re Terrence Parker, right? Ohmagawd, I love your tweets.”

Terrence hadn’t turned around to face them yet. He focused on Penelope’s leaking skull, wondering how the stranger knew him. Yes, he used Twitter often, but he barely had 72 followers and knew them all. Terrence reached for his phone and saw a notification: he had two new followers.

~~~~~

Next Chapter >>

Prompt contributor(s):

April Nicotera's Dice Roller: Penny Marks - 11yo, 5’6”, sharp blue eyes and chestnut hair, quiet and proud but can be evil and is scared of the dark;  Starter - “The old woman turned and smiled”; Setting - an airport during a blizzard, where all flights are canceled and all passengers are stranded together for the weekend