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August 30, 2016

Flash Fiction Challenge – Behold the Idiomatic

Filed under: flash fiction challenge — Tags: , , — Eva Therese @ 11:19 am

Another Flash Fiction Challenge from the great bearded Chuck Wendig. This time based on a randomly generated idiom-mashup. I had to click a few times, before getting “Hindsight is a shepherd’s warning” which sounds almost reasonable, if you think about it, but not too hard.


Mary had an mental picture of the kind of signs they had at some workplaces, saying how many days it had been since the last accident, except than in her mind, it said “death” rather than “accident” and right now the number was being changed from 71 to 0.

She had learned to keep the girls safe, mostly, but it had been learning by trial and error. The kind of errors that had cost lives in the beginning. Water needs to be boiled, always. Some poisonous plants look an awful lot like eatable ones. We don’t have any kind of antibiotics so even relatively small wounds can get dangerously infected. The learning curve had been steep. It would have been easier if Sally had also been here, but when one of the girls had fallen into a river, Sally had jumped in to save her and they had both been swept away by the current, never to be seen again. At least not by Mary.

She blinked, realized that she had been distracted and looked down at the girl in front of her, Melanie, who was twisting and turning, face sweaty, teeth clenched like she was trying to hold in the moans, that escaped her once in a while. Mary thought of the time she’d had appendicitis. She had felt just like the girl looked. She needed to go a hospital. Might as well say she needed to go to the moon.

There were no hospitals, no nothing. They listened to the radio for news, but only about once a week to save on the batteries. There was nothing but white noise and once in a while a message on automated repeat about how citizens should barricade themselves in their homes and wait for the army to arrive. But Mary and the girls had no homes but their tents and no choice but to keep moving, picking up supplies along the way.

It had only been supposed to be a weekend, an extended picnic, really. A camp away from camp. Mary had never been meant to have the responsibility to keep them alive for month after month, but she had tried her best. That’s what she tried to tell herself, but when she closed her eyes at night she was haunted by the images of the dead girls’ faces.

Melanie shuddered and took a few deep, rasping breaths. Mary reached out and took her hand. It was clammy and limp. She squeezed it anyway.

How could she protect them from something like this? Until now they had been trying to simply survive until the world somehow returned to some semblance of normalcy. They had gone through one day after another, gathering food and firewood and scavenging a bit from abandoned cabins. The last chocolate bar had been more than two months ago and it had been divided into fourteen tiny pieces, but some of the girls still spoke of it with longing in their voices.

Mary knew they would be in trouble when winter started to set in, but she had told herself that they would cross that bridge when they came to it. Or rather, she had secretly hoped that this wouldn’t last until then.

Now winter seemed to loom in front of her, no longer a distant possibility but a deadly certainty.

She became aware of whispering voices from outside the tent, so she let go of Melanie’s hand, opened the flap and climbed outside on legs that were stiff from kneeling so long.

Two of the girls let go of each other’s hand with guilty expression, while two others held on to each other, their expressions defiant. When you thought about it, it made absolute sense that of course some of the girls would come together like that. Mary felt no anger or shock at the idea. She didn’t even remember why she would once have felt like that. She was just relieved that they were in no risk for unwanted pregnancies.

“How is Melanie?” asked Rose, a small, red-haired girl.

“Not good. I doubt if she’ll make it through the night.” There was no point in lying.

The words were met with mostly a somber silence, although a few of Melanie’s friends started to sob quietly.

“It’s a punishment,” said one of the other girls, Hester, quietly. “For being what we are. God is punishing us and everyone around …”

“Don’t talk like that.” Mary’s words came out harsher than she had intended. “You’re not being punished. No-one is punishing us. There’s … there’s no-one to punish us. No-one judging us.”

They all looked at her, stunned.

She continued. “But this also means that there’s no-one to save us. Until the world rights itself, it’s just us, trying to stay alive. Together.”

A few hesitant nods.

”Go to bed. I’ll keep watch over Melanie.” She turned and was climbing back into the tent, when she was suddenly aware of a shift in the wind. It had changed direction or maybe simply picked up. It brought with it a smell of frost.

She knelt down in the twilight of the tent and looked at Melanie, slipping away with each moment.

There is no-one, Mary thought. No-one who watches us, no-one to watch over us. There’s just us, doing whatever we can to survive.

Melanie might die in a few hours or she might live for a few days. She might even recover completely. But if frost was coming, they didn’t have a few days and they certainly didn’t have however long it would take for her to be back on her feet. They needed to get moving and find a shelter for the winter.

They are children, thought Mary. There’s no-one watching over them but me. There’s no-one but me doing whatever I have to, to make sure they survive.

She gently took the pillow from under Melanie’s head and placed it over her face. Whatever I have to, she thought.

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August 8, 2016

Flash Fiction Challenge – The SubGenre Blender Spins Again

Filed under: flash fiction challenge — Tags: , — Eva Therese @ 1:20 pm

Challenge provided by Chuck Wendig. I rolled noir and heist/caper and came up with this, based on a loose idea I’ve had rattling around my head for a few years.


“Hi, Dozer, I’m … home …” The last word died on Vanessa’s lips as she walked into the living-room and saw the four men sitting there.

One of them had picked up Dozer and was scratching the cat behind the ears.

They had to have gotten in through a window. The door hadn’t been disturbed.

There was a brief silence as Vanessa looked them all over. Then she dumped her keys on a small table next to the door and folded her arms. “You could have called ahead, you know. And what made you think it was okay to help yourself to coffee?” She looked meaningfully from the cups on the coffee-table to a tall, dark and handsome man, who was leaning against the mantelpiece with the grace of a very large cat. In fact, he looked more like a predator than Dozer, who was currently looking silly with his legs at odd angles.

“You were late from walk in the park,” said the man, who had used the name Cornelius, when she had known him. “We got tired, needed something to pick us up.”

She raised an eyebrow. “So you’ve been stalking me for long enough to learn my schedule, but not long enough to know that on the first Tuesday of the month, I get a haircut.”

Cornelius shrugged, a movement which managed to covey both that he admitted to having made an error and promised that he would not forget this small tidbit, ever again.

Vanessa walked over to the man sitting with Dozer and took the cat from him. She carried it out into the kitchen, Cornelius following her, where she put it down and poured food into its bowl. She then put the kettle on to make tea and only then did she turn to look and him.

“What do you want?”

“I need money and I need them now.”

“Let me stop you right there. If you’re were planning to borrow from me, I only have enough available assets to pay my rent and day-to-day expenses. The rest are tied up in some very secure and very longterm investments to make sure that I can live modestly, but comfortably for the rest of my natural life.” More comfortably, than modestly in fact. Vanessa’s apartment was not large, but it was situated in one of the most expensive neighborhoods. And there wasn’t anything in it, from the largest piece of furniture to the smallest piece of cutlery, that wasn’t either antique or custom-made.

“How very sensible. But no. Actually, I’ve gotten my old gang together, along with a few fresh faces and we are planning hit the Dawbert Estate, get our hands on the collection of diamonds.”

There was a long silence. Dozer finished his food and walked out of the kitchen to see if he could get some more head scratches from the nice stranger. The silence dragged on, until it was broken by the sound of the water boiling.

Vanessa turned, took the kettle off and poured water over the tea-leaves. Then she whirled around and hurled the empty kettle at Cornelius. He ducked and it crashed into the wall behind him before clanging to the floor.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” asked Vanessa, her voice low and trembling, “You think all you have to do is walk in here and mention diamonds, the way you would wave a bottle of whiskey at an alcoholic and I’ll come running to be a part of your ridiculous scheme?”

“Look,” Cornelius held his hands out in front of him. “I’m not asking you to get involved. At all.”

“Oh, pull the other one, why don’t you? It got bells on it.”

“But I was just wondering, if you, being the greatest diamond thief who ever lived …”

“I’m retired,” Vanessa said flatly, but she had never had much stamina for conflict and the fight was already leaking out of her.

“That doesn’t make you any less great. And old habits die hard, I know that better than anyone. I was wondering, if maybe you had – out of purely academical interest, of course – maybe done some research on the Dawbert Estate? You know, taken a stroll around the perimeter and admired the security measures, looked up a few blueprints, maybe even taken a tour. And if so, if you would maybe be willing to share your findings with a few fellow diamond-acquiring-enthusiasts.”

Vanessa narrowed her eyes. “I thought you had some nerve a minute ago, but apparently I didn’t know the half of it. You’re asking me if I have done preliminary work on a heist on the Dawbert Estate and then you want to borrow it? Just like that?”

“Well, I would offer to pay you, if you seemed to insulted at the very thought of being a full member, I wasn’t sure you would take kinder to the idea of being a paid consultant.”

“No, I wouldn’t.”

“Vanessa, please. These people who are after me, they’re not like the people we’re used to working with. They’re the kind of people who’ll kill and maim and torture and I know you’ll say that it’s my own fault for getting involved with people like that and you would be absolutely right, but done is done and … Vanessa, I don’t want to die, especially not the way they would kill me. I’m sorry I’m not as sensible as you. I truly am. I wish I could have saved enough money and made some sensible and legal investments and retired and lived a quiet life, but I didn’t and I may be an ass-hat because of that, but I don’t think I deserve to pay with my life.”

Deep in though, Vanessa poured herself a cup of tea.

Cornelius let her think in peace and discretely picked up the kettle, which had been slightly dented, but was otherwise no worse for its resent flight. He placed it back on the stove.

Vanessa reached a decision. “So if I give you what I have on your target, you’ll get out of my hair?”

“Yes, and speaking of that, may I say what a lovely job your hairdresser … “

“You may not.” Vanessa sighed and rubbed her eyes. “Okay, then.” She picked up her tea-cup and went back into the living room.

The rest of the men were all sitting there with the awkward looked worn by everyone ever forced to wait in someone else’s living-room. Dozer was back on the lap of the man from before. Vanessa gave the cat a look to let it know what she thought of its treacherous ways, but was firmly ignored.

She put her tea-cup on the mantelpiece. “Wait here,” she said and went into the bedroom, closing the door behind her. She was gone for about five minutes before returning with a small bunch of tightly rolled up papers.

Vanessa placed them on the coffee-table and started unrolling them. They were covered in very tiny writing with a few diagrams. She could see the eyes of one of the men next to her widen, when he realised that what he was looking at was all tiny handwriting with hand-drawn diagrams.

Cornelius reached for the papers, but Vanessa pulled them away from him.

“One condition,” she said. “You will do this on March the 21th or not at all. I’m will be at the opera that night and will thus have an airtight alibi, if anyone should think to connect the crime to me.”

“March the 21th?” Cornelius was silent for a moment whilst think, but then nodded. “It will be tight, but we can do it.”

She smiled. “They’re playing Rossini’s La Gazza Ladra.”

He returned her smile. “The Thieving Magpie.”

“I thought you would appreciate the coincidence.” She handed him the papers and he squinted at the tiny letters. “What is this anyway? Notes? Schematics?”

“A manual.”

“A … manual?” He looked up at her, puzzled.

“A manual for how to do it. How to steal the diamonds. It’s all there. Of course, I wrote it for one person with my particular skill-set; you’ll have to modify it to get it to work for your group. But it’s all there. All you need to do.”

Cornelius looked from her to the papers, then back at her. She could just about remember the last time she had seen him at a loss for words, but it had been a long time ago and she was savoring this new moment.

“I’m not sure what to say,” he admitted finally.

“According to our agreement, I believe the words you’re looking for are ‘Goodbye’, ‘Thank you for the coffee’ and ‘Won’t be seeing you around’. You may choose the order yourself.

“But … you did all this work,” he waved the papers at her vaguely, “and you’re telling me that you never intended to go though with it?”

“Cornelius, I don’t know how to make it any plainer. I’m done talking to you. Get out.”

“Okay. Sorry. Okay.” He stuffed the papers in the inside pocket of his jacket, then immediately patted it to be sure they were there. “Goodbye. And the rest of the stuff you said.”

The three other men also go to their feet, looking relived that it was over. Dozer was placed on the floor and the man tried discretely to brush the cat-hairs off his trousers, but merely managed to distribute them over a larger area.

Vanessa walked to the door, opened it and gave each man a curt nod as he passed. Cornelius was the last one and of course he paused in the door.

Vanessa rolled her eyes. “Don’t make me regret helping you, more than I already do.”

“I just can’t help wondering if the Dawbert Estate just so happened to be the only place that you have a complete plan for how to burgling. Or if you have made plans for every major diamond collection …”

His words were cut off, when Vanessa closed the door on him. She stood for a moment and listened to the sounds of his footsteps on the stairs. Then she walked back into the living room to her rapidly cooling tea.

August 2, 2016

Flash Fiction Challenge – The Vacation

Filed under: flash fiction challenge — Tags: , — Eva Therese @ 6:18 pm

Flash Fiction Challenge as always courtesy of Chuck Wendig and can be found here. I’ve just been on vacation, but have already forgotten what it feels like, so here’s a story about people working so that other people can a nice vacation.


Picture the Titanic, the largest ship on the waves in its time and one of the most famous of all times. Picture a private cabin, furnished with all the luxuries that money could buy in the beginning of the 20th century. Now picture two elegant young women in the cabin. It’s not theirs, but they know with absolute certainty, that the occupants will not be back for several hours and therefore they can use it to get ready.

”I just think it’s kinda weird, is all,” said Julia defensive. She straightened a sleeve that didn’t need straightening and brushed away a nonexistent speck of dust, before continuing. “Tourists visiting the site of the most famous maritime disaster ever. Partying with lot of people who’ll all die. It’s ghoulish, if you ask me.”

Liza frowned. “It doesn’t matter what period the tourists go back to. The people they meet will inevitable be dead when they go back to their own time.”

“Yeah, but at least most of them will have lived full lives. Here you meet a bunch of people who all had their lives cut short.”

“Actually a lot of the first class passengers survive. Most of the dead were among the third class passengers and nobody meets them on this tour,” Liza replied, sounding perhaps more pedantic than she intended. She sighed. “Look, you shouldn’t talk like that. The wrong person overhears it and suddenly someone might think that you’re planning to … you know,” she lowered her voice, even though they were alone, “change things.”

“I didn’t even want to be here,” answered Julia with a hint of a sulk. “I was perfectly happy showing people around England during the Napoleonic Wars. My specialty was Jane Austen, you know,” she added wistfully. “Then suddenly we get word that the ban on Titanic as a destination has been lifted, the tourists are clamoring to go there and everyone who knows enough about manners to take off their gloves when eating are relegated to tour guides there.”

Liza leaned against a wall. “I know how you feel. My area of expertise is the roaring twenties. I can’t wait for 2020 to roll around so we can finally start to take people on tours there. Until that happens, I just have to take whatever I can get. You think the Titanic is in bad taste, you should try doing a tour of Jack The Ripper’s Whitechapel; leading around tourists so they can gawk at dead prostitutes.”

“Do you think when we get to 2018, that they’ll start doing tours of World War One?” asked Julia.

“The council has already said that they won’t allow it,” replied Liza.

“Yeah, but they allow people to go to the Napoleonic War. Like, not just the time period, they actually go to the battlefields. And except for the technology and the numbers, there’s really no difference between one war and the other.”

“They won’t,” said Liza firmly. “Then they would have to legalize travel to World War Two when that time comes and no-one wants that.”

“I hope you’re right. It’s so frustrating, you know. We have this wonderful technology, this gift. We can go to any point in history, see any marvel that has ever existed and tourists want to see death and destruction.”

“This is why we can’t have nice things,” said Liza with an ironic smile. She wanted to add something more, but just then a message buzzed in her ear-piece, which was artfully disguised as an earring.

“One minute. Stand by,” said a voice.

“We’re ready,” said Julia and made another last-minute adjustment of something which didn’t need adjusting. She looked over at Liza, who was still leaning against the wall and reached a decision. Now, before courage failed her.

“Liza?” she said, and the other woman straightened up and looked at her. “You know …” She was talking faster now, the words spilling out of her. “I also think the twenties is a really interesting period and maybe you don’t have to wait until 2020 to go. I mean, if you send in an application to go there for research purposes.”

Liza looked thoughtful for a moment, but then she shook her head. “They only give those permits to real historians and I’m a tourist-guide.”

“Yeah, but my cousin is on the board. Maybe I can put in a word for you. Because I’d really like to go as well. With you. I’d like to go to with you.”

“With me?”

“If you want to, of course. You can go alone. Or with someone else. If there’s someone else you’d rather go with.” I’m babbling, she thought and managed to shut herself up. She looked at Liza with eyes that she hoped was less puppy-dog-like than she felt.

Liza smiled and opened her mouth, but never got around to speaking, because in that moment, there was a shimmering in the air in the middle of the cabin and the first tourists started coming through. “We’ll talk later,” she just said and then walked forward to great the first of the arrivals.

Julia felt her stomach flutter. The future, her personal future, suddenly seemed brighter.

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