Black Hole By: Dyane Forde

So, a little explanation before getting to the story. Maybe it can help someone facing a creative block, I dunno, but a few words of intro seem fitting.

This piece was never supposed to be. I had participated in a flash fiction contest and chose the second of the two prompts on which to build my entry. I thought I was done, only I kept thinking about the unused prompt. It seemed pretty generic at first, basically a creative twist on ‘It was a dark and stormy night…’ I wasn’t inspired by it, but I also couldn’t leave it alone. It’s easy to write when we feel inspired, but what about when we don’t? As easy as it is to write reams when the ideas are swirling and the juices are pumping, it’s just as easy to walk away from the computer when we come up empty.

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FIRE REAPER By: Dyane Forde

This story was inspired by a prompt on a friend’s blog, and I liked it so much I had to post it. The rules were that it had to be less than 500 words and be inspired by one of two prompts. This is also my first work of fan fiction, based on the Darker Than Black anime series. What fun! If you haven’t tried it, do! It’s fantastic to put your spin on something you really love.

FIRE REAPER

”The pain surprised her, she had thought it would hurt less this time.  Looking down, a tear fell from her cheek and disappeared into the pool of warm blood.  She knew she would have to find somewhere to wash…”

Revelation By: Adrianna Joleigh

Sleet pinging against dark glass behind her, wind whipped leaves stampeding past her feet on an unlit path, an eerie howl screaming through the treetops; she knew she had trespassed against all reason and common sense, yet she walked further, bent against the storm, forward to meet face-to-face her means to an end. Tick-tock, the pendulum swings; increasing its pentameter as she approaches.

Burdened with a heavy heart she watched her past play before her; aspirations die in its wake. Footsteps creeping down the hallways interrupting the nights. An impending open door and foul alcoholic breathe in her face; shouting commences, followed by a raised hand ending with a degrading wallop. The only hope was to have her mother love her as she did once; the time when only the sounds of a lullaby surrounded them both, but unlikely for a child that is broken.

A POST-MORTEM BATH By: David Kent

Okay, you can blame +kim hodges for this.  No, I cannot enter into the Writer’s Challenge, but I did have a take on prompt 1. I acquiesced to posting it so that people could comment.  Kim decided that I should address prompt 2 also.  This is TOTALLY her fault. (And no, I didn’t make the 500 word limit.  I told you, I can’t sign my name in 500 words or less.)

The pain surprised her, she had thought it would hurt less this time. Looking down, a tear fell from her cheek and disappeared into the pool of warm blood. She knew she would have to start the bath.

untitled By: Dallas Adams

The pain surprised her. She thought it would hurt less this time. Looking down, a tear fell from her cheek and disappeared into the pool of warm blood. She knew she would have to find somewhere to wash. This fight wasn’t like the other ones she had to do as a ninja. Ninjas never cried for their murders. When past memories come back though, it never was pretty. When a sibling comes back from the grave and attacks, that just adds to the pain. The person was not a zombie. It was an actual, normal, perfectly functioning human,  ignoring the fact there was a monster inside.

Life sublime By: Matt Ewens

There had been no choice but to escape them; escape that false, fabricated life.  Escape the rules, the fake smiles and that unreal world he’d now left behind him.

It had all started when he’d found a secret camera lodged inside the broken video player. Initially he’d thought nothing of it, but curiosity had led him to recover the footage, discovering that his life was nothing more than a fabricated experiment. Of course his memory was erased, but eventually his dreams had told him the truth.

The Song of the Siren By: David Kent

Sleet pinging against dark glass behind him, wind whipped leaves stampeding past his feet on the unlit path, an eerie howl screaming through the treetops; he knew he had trespassed against all reason and common sense, yet he walked further, bent against the storm, forward to meet his nightmare face-to-face.

A glance up at the protective glass set high in the stone wall revealed no sign of movement or light.  Assured that the progenitors of his former captor were unaware of his presence, he crept closer to the dilapidated outbuilding, the shelter of Lilith.