Flash fiction: Stories of 100 words
a challenge for myself
I while ago I learnt about flash fiction and wanted to try it out myself. I so rarely complete something I write. My main creative writing experience lies with fanfiction. One-shots, two-shots, no plot that spans for chapters because I get stumped at some point and have no clue how to continue. So I write short works. 5k-6k-10k works, but only one chapter long.
I have never tried to write something extremely short. Say, 100 words max. When I saw some flash fiction ideas with the rule of 100 words, no more, I thought that’s my chance to challenge myself. So here I am now, bringing into the world four 100-words stories based on prompts.
Winter was the only season when we could be together.
The cabin in the woods was drowned in sunshine, too warm. Snow melting, icicles dripping and the snowman standing guard looking sadder every day. I try not to cry as the days go by, my snowman becoming a puddle then the puddle going away, too. Every year, the same story. I build the snowman, I love it, then spring comes and he is no more. I shun spring, I dread summer, autumn I tolerate for it is winter’s doorstep. My snowman and I, in winter’s cold embrace we reunite.
A sailor returning home finds his wife knows every detail of his life while he was away.
Delly slowly eased the door open setting down his pack. At the kitchen window, staring into the distance, was his wife. He had missed her dearly and seeing her in the moonlight weakened his knees. She turned around, the shadowy creases around her eyes pronounced, her crooked smile alluring.
“Deceiver, liar, murderer,” the hiss of her voice startled Delly. He hung his head, a single tear sliding down his stubble cheek.
His wife drifted closer, her pale hands hovering over his shoulders.
Delly’s skin prickled, the chill in the air not unwelcome. “H-how?,” he stuttered.
“They’ll haunt you forever. Just. Like. Me.”
Once a year, dream catchers need to be emptied of all the nightmares they have collected. Where do the nightmares go?
I took a deep breath, closing my eyes and braced myself for what was to be the worst night of the year. I settled onto my cot, the leather straps clicking around my wrists, ankles and across my waist. As soon as darkness crept in, I emptied my mind and opened my senses. The first wisp of smoke entered the room, tickled my eyelids then went inside my head. An open maw swallowing me whole. A second wisp came, showing me claws racking across floors. More wisps, more images flashing in my head until I had no sense but that of pure unadulterated terror.
A glimpse into a Victorian-era love story. Write about a single day or a single moment in their lives.
The carriage swayed back and forth, Rose and Loyd enjoying the short unchaperoned time they had. They stopped on the promenade, Loyd helping his young lover out of the carriage. The glimpse of a bare ankle shook Loyd who darted his eyes away, trying to keep his composure. She had done it on purpose, he was sure of it. She opened the sun umbrella and hid her blushing face. As if nothing happened, Rose walked by his side, her melodic voice continuing to detail to him the events of her latest read novel. Little did Rose know, it was the novel Loyd had written just for her.