http://www.flashfictiononline.com Stories from Flash Fiction Online. Flash Fiction: A complete story in 1,000 or fewer words. en Fri, 2 May 2008 00:17:55 EST Copyright (c) 2007-2008, Flash Fiction Online and content authors. All rights reserved. jdfreivald@gmail.com (Jake Freivald) jdfreivald@gmail.com (Jake Freivald) 1440 http://www.flashfictiononline.com/images/logo-small.pnghttp://www.flashfictiononline.comFlash Fiction: A complete story in 1,000 or fewer words. http://www.flashfictiononline.com/f20080501-game-bruce-mcallister.html <p>This game is called Is Love Possible? It’s a virtual game—real cutting-edge interface software—that (1) draws on your life, hopes, and fears; (2) may or may not, my therapist says, have any therapeutic benefits; and (3) costs over two grand with my therapist’s discount, and needs three more in hardware from Circuit City, Best Buy, wherever.</p><p>“Okay,” I say, to make him happy.</p><p><a href="http://www.flashfictiononline.com/f20080501-game-bruce-mcallister.html">Read more. . .</a></p> scifi http://www.flashfictiononline.com/f20080501-game-bruce-mcallister.html 1 May 2008 00:00:00 EST http://www.flashfictiononline.com/f20080502-bus-ride-ron-richardson.html <p>I usually let the first part of a story draw in readers on their own. If I did that with Ron Richardson’s “Bus Ride”, it would probably use up half the word count—at 175 words, this is most likely the shortest story that Flash Fiction Online will ever publish. It rings true to me, too, having once served in the U.S. Marine Corps. So kick back and give it a read. I promise it won’t take very long. —Ed.</p><p><a href="http://www.flashfictiononline.com/f20080502-bus-ride-ron-richardson.html">Read more. . .</a></p> mainstream http://www.flashfictiononline.com/f20080502-bus-ride-ron-richardson.html 1 May 2008 00:00:00 EST http://www.flashfictiononline.com/f20080503-select-your-champions-john-moran.html <p>So there we were: myself and Hannibal and Genghis Khan. Hannibal had the hill, while Genghis was sneaking round the rear.</p><p>Only for the lizard to call for another halt.</p><p>“What is it now?” I shouted.</p><p>The avatar appeared, all Greek robes and long flowing hair. He stood between me and the alien lizard and translated.</p><p>“He thinks you should choose only from the last three hundred years.”</p><p><a href="http://www.flashfictiononline.com/f20080503-select-your-champions-john-moran.html">Read more. . .</a></p> scifi http://www.flashfictiononline.com/f20080503-select-your-champions-john-moran.html 1 May 2008 00:00:00 EST http://www.flashfictiononline.com/fpublic0006-ex-oblivione-h-p-lovecraft.html <p>When the last days were upon me, and the ugly trifles of existence began to drive me to madness like the small drops of water that torturers let fall ceaselessly upon one spot of their victims body, I loved the irradiate refuge of sleep. In my dreams I found a little of the beauty I had vainly sought in life, and wandered through old gardens and enchanted woods....</p><p><a href="http://www.flashfictiononline.com/fpublic0006-ex-oblivione-h-p-lovecraft.html">Read more. . .</a></p> horror http://www.flashfictiononline.com/fpublic0006-ex-oblivione-h-p-lovecraft.html 1 May 2008 00:00:00 EST http://www.flashfictiononline.com/f20080401-dyslexicon-carl-frederick.html <p>We recognize that some who cope with dyslexia will think we’re making fun of them. Please read Carl’s forward. —Ed.</p><p>Entry: The DOG (Dyslexic Geek Organization): In these climes of specialized tubs, it snot atoll surprising there’s a club for...</p><p>Nate finished reading the entry, closed the Dyslexicon, and left the library with a growing realization that he must become a part of the DOG. This is his tale.</p><p><a href="http://www.flashfictiononline.com/f20080401-dyslexicon-carl-frederick.html">Read more. . .</a></p> scifi http://www.flashfictiononline.com/f20080401-dyslexicon-carl-frederick.html 1 Apr 2008 00:00:00 EST http://www.flashfictiononline.com/f20080402-call-of-the-wild-line-three-dalton-keane.html <p>Savage, wild, the pack of Stockbrokers tracks its prey, loafers swishing in the shifting sands. For eight days they have been on the move without a kill. For eight days they have barely slept. Gray linen slacks keep them cool in the sweltering days, warm during the bone-chilling nights. Old tickertape streams from worn pockets and drifts to the sand, criss-crossing the terrain like icing on a fiery bun.</p><p><a href="http://www.flashfictiononline.com/f20080402-call-of-the-wild-line-three-dalton-keane.html">Read more. . .</a></p> experimental http://www.flashfictiononline.com/f20080402-call-of-the-wild-line-three-dalton-keane.html 1 Apr 2008 00:00:00 EST http://www.flashfictiononline.com/f20080403-fast-living-hank-quense.html <p>“You both have a very rare condition,” the doctor said to my twin brother and me. “In fact, you two are the fourth and fifth cases ever recorded in the hundred years of Martian inhabitation. It might be caused by something in the well water that effects a small number of people.”</p><p>“Can you cure it?” Tommy asked.</p><p><a href="http://www.flashfictiononline.com/f20080403-fast-living-hank-quense.html">Read more. . .</a></p> scifi http://www.flashfictiononline.com/f20080403-fast-living-hank-quense.html 1 Apr 2008 00:00:00 EST http://www.flashfictiononline.com/f20080404-how-not-to-stage-a-play-zombie-aftermath-kurt-bachard.html <p>It’s no joke trying to find performers for a stage play since the end of the world. Who’d want to be a casting director in the zombie aftermath?</p><p>We’re supposed to be putting on Macbeth at the Royal Theatre. Not my choice; gloomy bloody play if you ask me, but it’s still all the rage for the survivors. You’d think they would want something more upbeat after all that putrid resurrection hoo-hah. Personally, I think half of them are such gormless twits that nobody will notice the difference once they start to zombie, too. </p><p><a href="http://www.flashfictiononline.com/f20080404-how-not-to-stage-a-play-zombie-aftermath-kurt-bachard.html">Read more. . .</a></p> horror http://www.flashfictiononline.com/f20080404-how-not-to-stage-a-play-zombie-aftermath-kurt-bachard.html 1 Apr 2008 00:00:00 EST http://www.flashfictiononline.com/fpublic0005-quiet-please-kevin-scott.html <p>This is a quaint, odd science-fiction story from 1961 about a composer who goes off-world looking for peace and quiet. I’m still not sure what happened to his piano along the way, but regardless of the reason I’ll still feel less like the ugly American next time I travel to distant lands. —Ed.</p><p><a href="http://www.flashfictiononline.com/fpublic0005-quiet-please-kevin-scott.html">Read more. . .</a></p> scifi http://www.flashfictiononline.com/fpublic0005-quiet-please-kevin-scott.html 1 Apr 2008 00:00:00 EST http://www.flashfictiononline.com/f20080304-lucky-clover-barbara-a-barnett.html <p>“Oh, for the love of...” Seamus shifted from foot to foot, one pudgy hand fingering the clover in his shirt pocket. The thought of using it sent his heart fluttering, but his fellow leprechauns were dying all around him, cut down by a swarm of chittering fairies.</p><p>“Aieeeee!” the winged pests cried as they flitted through the air, slashing with their sword-like wands.</p><p>“You’re going to have to use it,” Seamus muttered to himself....</p><p><a href="http://www.flashfictiononline.com/f20080304-lucky-clover-barbara-a-barnett.html">Read more. . .</a></p> fantasy http://www.flashfictiononline.com/f20080304-lucky-clover-barbara-a-barnett.html 15 Mar 2008 00:00:00 EST http://www.flashfictiononline.com/f20080301-just-before-recess-jim-van-pelt.html <p>Parker kept a sun in his desk. He fed it gravel and twigs, and once his gum when it lost its flavor. The warm varnished desktop felt good against his forearms, and the desk’s toasty metal bottom kept the chill off his legs.</p><p>Today Mr. Earl was grading papers at the front of the class, every once in a while glancing up at the 3rd graders to make sure none of them were talking or passing notes or looking out the window.</p><p><a href="http://www.flashfictiononline.com/f20080301-just-before-recess-jim-van-pelt.html">Read more. . .</a></p> fantasy http://www.flashfictiononline.com/f20080301-just-before-recess-jim-van-pelt.html 1 Mar 2008 00:00:00 EST http://www.flashfictiononline.com/f20080302-downstream-from-divorce-glenn-lewis-gillette.html <p>Act II: A single eye stared back at me, its somberness swept by a long-lashed blink. On the top bunk, my step-son lay on his side, head sunk to his nose in a pillow, and watched me get ready to state my position. A comforter snugged up to his smooth jawline and humped over his slender shoulder as it spread over the bed and smoothed away the rest of his body.</p><p><a href="http://www.flashfictiononline.com/f20080302-downstream-from-divorce-glenn-lewis-gillette.html">Read more. . .</a></p> mainstream http://www.flashfictiononline.com/f20080302-downstream-from-divorce-glenn-lewis-gillette.html 1 Mar 2008 00:00:00 EST http://www.flashfictiononline.com/f20080303-the-desert-cold-david-tallerman.html <p>Everyone knows the great desert is hot by day and cold by night. But that heat and cold is something you must know to understand. The midday sun seems to burn through your eyelids, so that outside the shade you cannot escape it; it pricks at your skin like a thousand needles, and sweat offers no relief because you could never sweat enough. It is harsh and cruel, and without water and a good guide you will not live long.</p><p><a href="http://www.flashfictiononline.com/f20080303-the-desert-cold-david-tallerman.html">Read more. . .</a></p> mainstream http://www.flashfictiononline.com/f20080303-the-desert-cold-david-tallerman.html 1 Mar 2008 00:00:00 EST http://www.flashfictiononline.com/fpublic0004-a-telephonic-conversation-mark-twain.html <p>Consider that a conversation by telephone—when you are simply sitting by and not taking any part in that conversation—is one of the solemnest curiosities of modern life. Yesterday I was writing a deep article on a sublime philosophical subject while such a conversation was going on in the room. I notice that one can always write best when somebody is talking through a telephone close by. Well, the thing began in this way...</p><p><a href="http://www.flashfictiononline.com/fpublic0004-a-telephonic-conversation-mark-twain.html">Read more. . .</a></p> mainstream http://www.flashfictiononline.com/fpublic0004-a-telephonic-conversation-mark-twain.html 1 Mar 2008 00:00:00 EST http://www.flashfictiononline.com/f20080201-souls-of-the-harvest-dave-hoing.html <p>You can’t harvest a crop without killing something. A combine ain’t particular, it cuts whatever’s in its path. There’s no malice in it, just a part of the season, like rain and heat. Food or nesting draws critters in, but come harvest the combine keeps rolling. Some run and live. Others don’t, and don’t.</p><p><a href="http://www.flashfictiononline.com/f20080201-souls-of-the-harvest-dave-hoing.html">Read more. . .</a></p> mainstream http://www.flashfictiononline.com/f20080201-souls-of-the-harvest-dave-hoing.html 1 Feb 2008 00:00:00 EST http://www.flashfictiononline.com/f20080202-apologies-all-around-jeff-soesbe.html <p>“Daddy!” Rachel shouted. “There’s a robot at the door.”</p><p>Winston Sinclair hoped it wasn’t one of those sales bots. They were danged near impossible to get rid of. He picked up Rachel and raised the viewport she had used. The robot was three feet tall, grey, squat, plain-looking.</p><p>“Robot, what do you want?”</p><p><a href="http://www.flashfictiononline.com/f20080202-apologies-all-around-jeff-soesbe.html">Read more. . .</a></p> scifi http://www.flashfictiononline.com/f20080202-apologies-all-around-jeff-soesbe.html 1 Feb 2008 00:00:00 EST http://www.flashfictiononline.com/f20080203-masquerade-at-well-country-camp-ann-pino.html <p>I lie on my cot, staring at the pine rafters. They treat us like children here, keeping us to a schedule, always requiring an afternoon nap.</p><p>A few cots over, Olive is coughing. Anyone would, with every window open and the dust blowing in. I wonder how much the doctors really know about our ailment. Dust makes us cough more, but still the windows must be kept open.</p><p><a href="http://www.flashfictiononline.com/f20080203-masquerade-at-well-country-camp-ann-pino.html">Read more. . .</a></p> historical http://www.flashfictiononline.com/f20080203-masquerade-at-well-country-camp-ann-pino.html 1 Feb 2008 00:00:00 EST http://www.flashfictiononline.com/fpublic0003-untechnological-employment-e-m-clinton.html <p>This story is from the November 1962 edition of Analog Science Fact - Science Fiction.</p><p>It was written at a time when communication required much more effort, and this story is, as a result, a little bit difficult to read. Be prepared. But it pulled me along, and I hope it does you as well. Enjoy! —Ed.
</p><p><a href="http://www.flashfictiononline.com/fpublic0003-untechnological-employment-e-m-clinton.html">Read more. . .</a></p> scifi http://www.flashfictiononline.com/fpublic0003-untechnological-employment-e-m-clinton.html 1 Feb 2008 00:00:00 EST http://www.flashfictiononline.com/f20080101-the-materialist-eric-garcia.html <p>Dr. Albrecht woke from his afternoon nap to find himself on fire. At least, that’s how it felt: like someone had taken an acetylene torch and given his body a good talking-to. In the seconds it took him to wake, scream, and leap from the cot, tearing off his nightshirt and batting wildly at flames that, to his surprise, did not seem to exist, Albrecht came to the conclusion that the source of his agony went deeper than a bit of charred flesh.</p><p>His reflection in the bathroom mirror gave him his first clue: his skin shimmered. . . .</p><p><a href="http://www.flashfictiononline.com/f20080101-the-materialist-eric-garcia.html">Read more. . .</a></p> fantasy http://www.flashfictiononline.com/f20080101-the-materialist-eric-garcia.html 1 Jan 2008 00:00:00 EST http://www.flashfictiononline.com/f20080102-james-brown-laundry-lake-tahoe-stefanie-freele.html <p>Stu is driving to South Lake Tahoe to take his post-partum-strained woman to the snow, to take his nine-week-old infant through a storm, to take his neglected dog in a five hour car ride, and to take himself into his woman’s good graces. And he’s hungry. Even though Stu has considered, more than once, stopping the car on the whitened highway and plunging himself over a cliff so he could plop into a cozy pile of snow and hide until his wife is logical again or the baby is able to tend to itself, he’s not dressed warmly enough for months or years in a snowbank, he has no snacks in his jacket, and he must focus on The Family.</p><p><a href="http://www.flashfictiononline.com/f20080102-james-brown-laundry-lake-tahoe-stefanie-freele.html">Read more. . .</a></p> literary http://www.flashfictiononline.com/f20080102-james-brown-laundry-lake-tahoe-stefanie-freele.html 1 Jan 2008 00:00:00 EST http://www.flashfictiononline.com/f20080103-human-clockwork-beth-wodzinski.html <p>Every morning, the Human Clockwork arrived at the park promptly at 6:25. He’d set up his clock face behind his pedestal and then he’d arrange himself in front of it, and by 6:30 he’d have his arms just so, pointing straight at his feet. It was his duty to keep perfect time, and he never failed. </p><p>But this morning, there was a woman in his spot when he arrived at the park. He blinked at her, as if blinking would make her disappear, but no matter how quickly he blinked, she was still there. In his spot. Immovable. Impossible. </p><p><a href="http://www.flashfictiononline.com/f20080103-human-clockwork-beth-wodzinski.html">Read more. . .</a></p> literary http://www.flashfictiononline.com/f20080103-human-clockwork-beth-wodzinski.html 1 Jan 2008 00:00:00 EST http://www.flashfictiononline.com/f20080104-speed-dating-spirit-guides-rod-santos.html <p>“I can do this,” I told my squirrel. If Babycheeks—my totem and spirit-guide—answered, it was lost beneath the bar’s raucous gabble of small talk and pick-up lines.</p><p>A hostess with shiny teeth and a clipboard approached. “Are you here for Insta-Date?”</p><p>“Yeah.” My voice squeaked. “I pre-registered. Joseph Ahanu.”</p><p>“That’s a pretty name. Hawaiian?”</p><p>“Algonquin.”</p><p>“Go ahead and sit at table H. . .”</p><p><a href="http://www.flashfictiononline.com/f20080104-speed-dating-spirit-guides-rod-santos.html">Read more. . .</a></p> fantasy http://www.flashfictiononline.com/f20080104-speed-dating-spirit-guides-rod-santos.html 1 Jan 2008 00:00:00 EST http://www.flashfictiononline.com/fpublic0002-mold-of-the-earth-boleslaw-prus.html <p>One time I happened to be in Puławy with a certain botanist. We were seating ourselves by the Temple of the Sibyl on a bench next to a boulder grown over with mosses or molds which my learned companion had been studying for several years.</p><p>I asked what he found of interest in examining the irregular splotches of beige, grey, green, yellow or red?</p><p>He looked at me distrustfully but, persuaded that he had before him an uninitiated person, he proceeded to explain. . .</p><p><a href="http://www.flashfictiononline.com/fpublic0002-mold-of-the-earth-boleslaw-prus.html">Read more. . .</a></p> literary http://www.flashfictiononline.com/fpublic0002-mold-of-the-earth-boleslaw-prus.html 1 Jan 2008 00:00:00 EST http://www.flashfictiononline.com/f20071201-reconstruction-work-bruce-holland-rogers.html <p>Next to the casket, I leaned on my cane and admired the work my brother practitioners had done on Elizabeth Fordham Roth. She had died at 80, but she did not look a day over 60 and might have only been sleeping. Physical reconstruction. Cosmetics. Those are the easier mortuary arts. It is the work of an afternoon to sew eyelids shut with invisible stitches, to close a slack jaw, to smooth out wrinkles and rouge pallid cheeks back to seeming life. My branch of the discipline is far more subtle and is never finished in a single afternoon.</p><p><a href="http://www.flashfictiononline.com/f20071201-reconstruction-work-bruce-holland-rogers.html">Read more. . .</a></p> mainstream http://www.flashfictiononline.com/f20071201-reconstruction-work-bruce-holland-rogers.html 1 Dec 2007 00:00:00 EST http://www.flashfictiononline.com/f20071202-speak-masters-will-suzanne-vincent.html <p>I’m in Hell. That must be what this is. I can’t fathom a god who would possibly interpret this as heaven, crammed in this damned steamer trunk; me and twenty three other Wayang Kulit shadow puppets, entombed with the smell of ox hide and musty bamboo.</p><p>I dream of a life before this one. A life in which I spoke a language other than the one the Master speaks for me. A life in which I could move my own vulgar arms, speak my own profane will, make my own damning decisions. I’ve been here so long I can’t remember what I did to deserve damnation, but a shadow of that life tells me I do.</p><p><a href="http://www.flashfictiononline.com/f20071202-speak-masters-will-suzanne-vincent.html">Read more. . .</a></p> fantasy http://www.flashfictiononline.com/f20071202-speak-masters-will-suzanne-vincent.html 1 Dec 2007 00:00:00 EST http://www.flashfictiononline.com/fpublic0001-h-p-lovecraft-what-the-moon-brings.html <p>I hate the moon—I am afraid of it—for when it shines on certain scenes familiar and loved it sometimes makes them unfamiliar and hideous.</p><p>It was in the spectral summer when the moon shone down on the old garden where I wandered; the spectral summer of narcotic flowers and humid seas of foliage. . .</p><p><a href="http://www.flashfictiononline.com/fpublic0001-h-p-lovecraft-what-the-moon-brings.html">Read more. . .</a></p> horror http://www.flashfictiononline.com/fpublic0001-h-p-lovecraft-what-the-moon-brings.html 01 Dec 2007 00:00:00 EST