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Flashfiction #39: Love

Discussion in 'Reader's Corner' started by afgpride, Aug 10, 2018.

  1. afgpride Retired Staff

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    Theme submitted by: afg

    Rules:


    1. Your work must be within constraints of the theme.
    2. Of course, all themes can be interpreted in any number of ways.
    3. 500 words maximum per entry, or else the entry will be disqualified.
    4. Only post one entry per theme. The highest rated entry will choose the next theme.
    5. You may not rate/review your own work.
    6. Add a rating out of ten at the end of your "review".
    7. Be constructive/honest when criticizing a piece. No mindless flaming.
    8. You do not have to enter a flashfic to rate.
    9. If you enter and do not rate & review the other entries, your flashfic is disqualified from points.


    Dates:
    Starts Aug 10, Friday, ends Aug 26, Sunday. Reviews from Aug 27 to Aug 30, Thursday.
     
    Last edited by a moderator: Aug 19, 2018
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  2. shit shit is the ne plus ultra

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    Spoiler: 500
    Jim stopped his squad car in front of the apartment building and saw Rebecca waiting for him on a bench outside. She didn’t notice him when he pulled up in front of her, so he rolled his window down, watching her staring at the ground in a daze. He waited a few beats and then sighed.

    “Hey detective,” he said. She looked up with a start. “Here to take you to the bust. That is if you want.” It was plain on his expression that he hoped she didn’t.

    “No! Sorry! I’m coming.” She stood up and grasped her leather document bag, her bright sundress fluttering in the spring breeze as she headed to the car. Complete with high heels, she looked like she was on her way to a date.

    “You do know where we’re heading, right?” Jim asked as she closed the door. He tried not to glance, though she looked damn fine in that get up. An erection in full uniform was an awkward thing to maneuver with in public.

    “Yes I do, thank you officer.” The bite in her tone told him to shut up with the attitude, and he appreciated a bit of professionalism at last. “I’m sure you know I’ve been investigating this case for weeks.”

    “Yes ma’am, my apologies. Please accept my congratulations. I’ve heard the murdering piece of filth has already been snared in the net you prepared.”

    She stiffened, again taking offense, and he rolled his eyes. He could not figure this bitch out for the life of him.

    “Did you know that filth, Samuel Porshwa, was an orphan who was abused by several foster families? Forced to drop out of school under circumstances I found to be entrapment? He certainly didn’t have the advantages either of us enjoyed, officer. I personally think we should be careful how we judge people we haven’t thoroughly researched.”

    Jim’s car was racing through town as her diatribe went into full swing. As they came upon the scene, he said a silent prayer of thanks that the ride was finally over.

    Police officers were wrenching a dirty vagrant up to his feet, the man cursing them loudly with slurred, spitted words. As they dragged him toward the squad car, Rebecca frantically opened the car door, throwing up her hand.

    “Wait please! Just a second!” she shouted at them, and she must’ve looked to them like the perp’s defense lawyer, though no one looked more confused than Samuel himself.

    As she approached him, she placed her hand on the chest of his muddy torn t-shirt, and she reached her head up and placed her lips softly on his. Samuel Porshwa’s eyes were so wide, the balls threatened to roll right out of his head.

    “Take him away,” she whispered, turning away. The police gave each other an exasperated look, having seen this many times before, and put the thoroughly stunned perp in the car.

    Rebecca sat on the street and wept, her heart breaking once again.
     
  3. afgpride Retired Staff

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    Was very close to flaking due to irl circumstances, but decided to keep my word and just write something quickly final minute instead of leaving it at nothing
    Spoiler: 308

    Swallows and robins interrupted the night with birdsong. Dawn wasn’t to set in for hours, which got Nala wondering.

    She sat up on the prickly wet grass, wounds aching about her abdomen as she took a deep breath. The crisp air was an ice patch for her insides. She grabbed her javelin and used it to get on her feet, eyeing out the view below her for signs of trouble. Nothing.

    Yet the birds continued to sing, now verses to melodic howls. Nala limped to the edge of the cliff and gave another honest look, stretching her neck. The landscape was covered by midnight dark. A few yellow dots from candlelit houses popped out at her, and she suddenly missed the beauty of the horizon she got to enjoy when the sun was out.

    Nala limped back to her tree and ripped off a piece of bark, retrieving her dagger. She began to etch her next message.

    The birds are singing in the middle of the night. I take it as a sign that you’re close. I haven’t forgotten.

    She flipped the piece of bark back to its original position, camouflaging it with the trunk. Then she took out a hair pin and stabbed it in a slight opening.

    By morning Nala was back at ground level, using her javelin as her cane as she made her way through the marshes of Crow’s Peak and over the worn out stone bridge that connected the wilderness with the village. They would get word of her whereabouts there, she understood. It was much easier to escape them if she directed the trailing herself.

    She passed the village guards at the entrance and found a private spot behind a shack to cut her hair and change clothes. When she was done, she pulled out her dagger and etched her next message.

     
    Last edited: Aug 26, 2018
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