/ffa/ - Flash Fiction Anthology

[Anonymous No.18027112]

Flash Fiction Anthology 02 Rags and Bones is now available!

Provided in flash format, Rags and Bones brings you into the hearts and minds of fast-food junkies (both human and elephant), philosophical nightclub bouncers, miscreant perfume designers, treacherous hawks, Winston Churchill, and characters from 50 stories aimed to delight, horrify, disgust, and amuse.

>Paperback (lowest possible no-revenue pricing)
https://www.lulu.com/en/us/shop/anonymous-/rags-and-bones/paperback/product-9d7gp2.html

>Digital (free to read online or to download in .epub and .pdf)
https://archive.org/details/rags-and-bones/Rags-and-Bones-Generic

Anons wrote amazing stories for this anthology. I think it’s even better than Gifts Evil and Good, which I also immensely enjoyed. Rags and Bones has humor, tragedy, adventure, the absurd, and a panoply of plots and characters. It was a pleasure to edit, and to watch the stories come in one at a time.

Which stories stood out as your favourites? Did any catch you by surprise? Please use this thread to discuss Rags and Bones and to post flash fiction. I’ll organize another flash fiction anthology in a few months.

Leave a prompt after your flash for the next person. Ideally, everyone writes from a different prompt. Write in any style you want. Have fun with it!

>Prompts
A student goes to great lengths to finish their essay on time
A man loses his mind due to a pigeon waking him up each morning
A mushroom hunter gets more than they bargained for
The next phase of the Instagram model craze
Treehouses become a popular housing option
A memoir by Butterbeard the Great

[Anonymous No.18027163]

For those who missed it:

Anthology 01 Gifts Evil and Good

>Paperback (lowest possible no-revenue pricing)
https://www.lulu.com/en/us/shop/anonymous-/gifts-evil-and-good/paperback/product-mgwkgv.html

>Digital (free to read online or to download in .epub and .pdf)
https://archive.org/details/gifts-good-and-evil

[Anonymous No.18027648]

Thanks for putting this together OP
Looking forward to reading the ones I missed

[Anonymous No.18027751]

>>18027112
BONUS PROMPT
>Humanity enters into a total war with a species of humanoids from Mars that looks exactly like just, except they have bright green skin.

[Anonymous No.18028006]

>>18027112
>The next phase of the Instagram model craze
I'll claim this, I have the workings of a story for it and crunched out about 300 words already. I should be done tomorrow.

[Anonymous No.18028459]

bump

[Anonymous No.18028560]

>>18027112
Righteous Editor Anon. Thanks for your efforts. Picked up a copy of both. It will be a nice feeling to have something on my shelf that contains something I’ve written.

I will take the mushroom hunting story, actually going to try to find some morels tomorrow so it should give me some inspiration to think about. Might take me a few days though so if any anon beats me to the punch, I’m glad to do another prompt.

[Anonymous No.18028637]

>>18027648
You're very welcome. It's a pleasure. Anons here write entertaining stories.

>>18028006
That image is wild. If your story has an author turned prostitute I will be thrilled.

>>18028560
Looking forward to getting mine too. I got three stories in. Was aiming for a fourth but another anon closed it out!

[Anonymous No.18028650]

>>18028006
What a kind author.

[Anonymous No.18028873]

Are the prompts from the last threads still available? If I was working on a flash from before, can I still post it?

[Anonymous No.18028969]

>>18028873
Yup I’ll find and post them tomorrow. For sure you can. I’m not collecting any for an anthology for a while though. Might make the next one themed or take submissions and pay a rate per word. Many ideas!

[Anonymous No.18028979]

>>18028969
Also adding I love flash fiction and will definitely read yours and give feedback.

[« Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ » !!bGBGaUpA8kS No.18028981]

>>18028637
Swanky cover. Props to the designer

[Anonymous No.18029618]

>>18027751
I posted this. Actually, don't bother, I ended up finding time to write a 800-word story with this idea today. I'll be editing it and I'll submit it when it's done.

Thanks anyway guys.

[Anonymous No.18030234]

'Greetings, chief Klam' said the woman dressed in bones.
'Greetings, shaman Klem' said the man with a mammoths bone on his hip. He continued 'say, you wouldn't know anything about the sign that has appeared in the sky, would you?'
'Do you take me for a charlatan, a mistaken baboon? I know all about the Sky-Fathers tears, and why he sheds them!'
'I have been told by the Elder Tree that is blood coming out that will make a new tribe.'
'Perhaps, but you do not know the Elder tongue as well as I do, and it told me that it's actually a new Sun forming, and our days will last twice as long'
'Wait, didn't you tell me that it's Sky-Fathers tears?'
'No no, take a look, it's getting bigger now, how could a tear be getting bigger?'
'By the spirits, shaman Klem, you're right! Is it a gift?'
'Most definitely, it's an omen that our tribe will wi------

[Anonymous No.18030255]

>>18030234
My prompt:
A bookreader on a roof gets called out for being a poser

[Anonymous No.18030671]

Glad to see it's finally done! Thank you for everything you do, editor. Also, a big thanks to everyone else that contributed and to the cover artist too.

[Anonymous No.18031009]

heck yeah
i've read all entries from these threads but i'll probably read em again
was great fun lads

>>18028637
nice and dreamlike

[Anonymous No.18031072]

>>18030255
I'll take this prompt, hopefully will have something posted tomorrow

[Anonymous No.18031785]

>>18028637
>>18028981
Cover anon here, glad you like it! Image, title etc were all suggested by anons in the thread...i just did the formatting.

New desktop/mobile banner ads coming soon to announce volume 2.

[Anonymous No.18031795]

>>18028981
>>18030671
Cover anon is awesome. Multiple mockups for both anthologies, and he wrote 5 great stories for Rags and Bones too.

[Anonymous No.18031960]

>>18031785
which boards are we advertising on?

[Anonymous No.18032156]

>>18031960
I (cover anon) can just speak for mobile, OP’s on top of desktop:

Picked a few low-to-meedium traffic boards I felt most likely to be interested in checking the book out (or who may want to contribute in the future):
/lit/, /his/, /ic/, /diy/, /sci/, /tg/, /p/, /po/, /gd/

I think it would be awesome if we could get /ic/ or /gd/ to collaborate on illustrating a few flashes. /p/ could also contribute photos as prompts.

I think the “Call of the Crocodile” ads have me outbid on /lit/ at the moment, but a few of the ffa ads should break through here and there.

[Anonymous No.18032161]

>>18027112
Just wanted to say that I appreciate all the effort that went into this!

[Anonymous No.18032202]

>>18032156
>/po/
man their 4 year old threads are something else

[Anonymous No.18032246]

pdf links

v1: https://archive.org/download/gifts-good-and-evil/Gifts%20Good%20and%20Evil%20(A%20Flash%20Fiction%20Anthology).pdf
v2: https://archive.org/download/rags-and-bones/Rags-and-Bones-Generic.pdf

[Anonymous No.18032286]

>>18032202
Yeah, /lit/ has no business calling itself a ‘slow board’ with places like /po/ out there. Some really cool shit, there, though!

[Anonymous No.18032393]

popping in from /v/ because of the ad that was paid for. i'll check it out
By the way, the hook for me was "love between man and ghost". I'm looking forward to this.

[Anonymous No.18032574]

>>18032393
Thanks for reading /v/ anon!

>>18031960
I got /v/ /tv/ /diy/ /co/ /lit/ /his/ and /a/ through a combination for desktop header and footer ads

>>18030234
Nice comedy sketch anon!

[Anonymous No.18032601]

>>18027112
I'm tempted to buy it and i've only read like 5 of the stories
the ones i've read are pretty great

[Anonymous No.18032923]

Thanks anon (anons). Proud to be a part of this.

[Anonymous No.18033100]

>>18028006
What is this fucking image

[Anonymous No.18033237]

From the last thread:
>A novice conman does a confidence trick successfully
This one took me forever, and I realized when I finished that I strayed quite far from the text of the original prompt. Still, I’d like to hear what you anons think. If anyone is familiar with Indian culture, let me know if any of this is way off:

“Bad luck, man. Bad luck”

Mohit was sick of hearing this. Deepak was the third person he recounted his story to, and all had the same reaction.

"I told you, I do not believe in luck. It is greed, simple as that. Those with the most get more opportunity, those with the least get less."

He hadn't truly liked working at GlobalConnext. After three years, the call scripts and standard replies were burned into his memory, but he loved his co-workers there and the independence. That was all before COVID, of course, when he and his friends from work could go out after hours, laughing and boasting. He would come home to his parents and tell them he had been working over-time. It wasn't clear if they believed his story, but they prided themselves in his strong work ethic, and he enjoyed anything that would keep him out of their crowded Bangalore apartment block.

During the lockdown, Mohit worked from home most days. Even buried in his noise-cancelling headset, he couldn't escape the suffocating heat, the constant background noise, and the prying eyes of his parents and sisters. Despite this, he had been doing his best to keep his numbers up only to have GlobalConnext back-stab his whole department, moving the work to a call center in Bangladesh.

He was dreading telling his parents this news. He didn't want them to worry, and he knew they would blame him. He should have come clean when he first got the news, but he didn't have the nerve. Now he's on day three pretending to be working, and GlobalConnext would be coming to reclaim the laptop and headset soon. He was desperate.

"Talk to my sister, Priya," Deepak suggested "she's always trying to recruit."

Mohit had met Priya once before. Louder and pushier than most of the men he knew, she was definitely not his type. He also heard rumors, though he couldn't recall exactly where, that she was somehow involved with some bad types. Still, if she could get him out of his current situation, it might be worth it.

(1/3)

[Anonymous No.18033256]

>>18033237
(2/3)

"GC fired you, too? They're all stupid pigs." Yes, same Priya he remembered. "They would have sex with their own mothers if it could save them money. No pride at all, that's why I left to start my own business here."

Mohit didn't want to ask for details, but this was an interview and he knew she wanted him to. "Why did they fire you?"

"Because I am not some nice fattu employee who will just sit and take abuse all day. You know the job, day and night we get disconnected and yelled at and disrespected by these rich fucks overseas. I had it. The next time of them asked me to speak his language I politely said 'Sir, I regret to say, ‘American’ is not a language. I am speaking English, same as you.' and the supervisor fired me right there just for telling that man the truth."

This girl was crazy. "So what is different about this job? It's still a call center, yes?"

"It is completely reversed. At GlobalConnext, we worked for them; bent over backward to do what they want. At my company, those rich overseas bhenchods work for us! How do you catch a fish?"

"You get a pole and a line and--"

"Not like that," Priya laughed, "no wonder they let you go, you don't think big enough! I'll tell you how I catch a fish. Step 1: you cast a net. Catch as many fish as are stupid enough to swim under your boat. We have a list with over a hundred thousand names on it, and we call each one to find people who owe money to American hospitals."

"You say: 'Hello sir, how are you doing? I'm calling to ask about your recent hospital stay."

"Step 2: My boat is small and my time is short, so I pick the best fish and throw away the rest. The good think about these fish is they can talk. Some of my fish will tell me all about their recent visit, the name of the hospital, the medical issue, they'll even complain about the cost. These are the keepers. Even if we catch the wrong fish, I say 'I'm sorry, perhaps I have the wrong number, has someone else in the household been ill?' and half the time they'll tell me exactly where to find an even bigger fish, so my net gets bigger each time."

(2/3)

[Anonymous No.18033270]

>>18033256
(3/3)

Mohit was glad Priya could not see him squirming in his seat. "Is this legal?"

"We're just asking questions, here. If I say 'How is your mother feeling today, Mohit?' would you call the police? Do I have a knife to your throat? No! You could disconnect me at any time. How much do you know about medicine in America?"

"I don't--"

"Well neither do they! I hear it all day long, when someone leaves the hospital they get all these bills and collection notices from dozens of doctors and lawyers and insurance companies. They can't keep track of it all, so they just pay them! No questions asked. This is where we get to step 3: you sell the fish! I have a friend who likes to send letters to these people, asking for money, and if some of those fish mistake his letters for hospital bills well who's fault is it that they were not being careful? I'm sure our families will be much more careful with their money than they were."

"So what will you do Mohit? Want to go fishing with me, or do you want to keep swimming around while they eat you up?"

He looked around his flat, cluttered with old GlobalConnext binders and his sisters' clothes, the air thick with the unique spices of his mother's cooking. His parents and sisters still did not know there wouldn't be a paycheck for groceries next week. He thought of his nani, who died last month because she could not afford medicine.

Mohit didn't believe in luck.

[Anonymous No.18033299]

>>18028873
>>18028969
Prompt list from the last thread
>A former viral star struggles to extend their 15 minutes of fame (>>17805854) (<span class="deadlink">>>17921963)[/spoiler]
>A Mexican, a Jew and a black man walk into an Irish pub
>An ice cream man sets up shop outside a union job site in a rough part of town
>A man tries to sell lucid dreams to someone (>>17855751)
>The entire world is put under the effects of DMT (>>17822414)
>A poker game where everyone cheats
>That's not a horse (>>17838392)
>a church closure (>>17817577)
>11 Feds at a Klan Rally of 12
>A frog falls in love with a dog who's in love with a worm (>>17860727)
>Planning a mundane errand begins to sound like an epic tale
>A parade of ghosts
>a prehistoric tribe reacts to a meteor
>an old cat needs prescription eyeglasses (>>17877227)
>feral gibbons living on the outskirts
>A novice conman does a confidence trick successfully (>>17910015)
>a jealous parrot is in love with its married owner
>a bonsai tree nursery refuses to return a tree to its owner
>A flash fiction writer receives advice on 4chan from the reincarnation of Cervantes

[Anonymous No.18033689]

>>18027112
Saw this as an ad... So is this similar to Storythread on /tg/, write prompt short stories?

[Anonymous No.18033888]

>>18033689
I’m not really familiar with /tg/, had no idea about the storythread thing!

Yeah, this is pretty similar.../ffa/ is more restrictive on the format/length, but wide open on genre/content. /tg/ seems looser with structure and images/prompts, but all stories must be loosely related to rpg campaigns.

That said, there are probably many stories from /ffa/ volumes 1 and 2 that /tg/ would like (troll bridge, time dragon, cursed item, santa’s sleigh) and there must be many stories and prompts from /tg/ that would have made great flash fiction submissions.

[Anonymous No.18033960]

>>18031960
>>18032156
just came from /tg/
based

[Anonymous No.18034122]

>>18027163
Thank you

[Anonymous No.18034187]

>>18027112
This image has been burnt into my brain even though I've never specifically looked at it.

[Anonymous No.18034305]

>>18034187
Agree, it’s definitely helped OP create a welcoming/cozy space within the general tumult of /lit/.

I tracked the original illustration to Chris Dunn, who has made many other great pieces with the ‘wind in the willows’ theme:
>>http://chrisdunnillustration.blogspot.com/2015/10/warming-up-finished.html

[Anonymous No.18034526]

>>18027112
A memoir by Butterbeard the Great

My bulbous gut was known world round,
both for the size and the sheen.
I inherited it from my grandma,
and her from her grandpa before that;
an entire lineage of bountiful breadbaskets.
The beard, however, was my own creation.
Silky smooth and immaculately manicured,
damsels threw themselves at my feet,
and even the most polished gentleman
would kneel in admiration of the eponymous Butterbeard.

I earned the nickname at 16
when I would eat butter by the pound for sport.
There's no sport harder than butter scarfing
and I competed with the best of them.
While others waxed mustaches
and kept their stubble trimmed,
my sporadic haggard facial hair
looked as if someone plucked half a hairbrush
and the wind slapped the bristles about.
It was embarrassing to say the least,
until the state championship came around.
My girlfriend had just broken up with me
over my abominable facial hair,
and instead of exercising, or learning a new skill,
my eyes brimmed with unrequited butter-lust
to fill the hole she left in my heart.

Traditionally, butter scarfing is done by the pound;
just peel back the foil and go to town.
That day I went straight for the butterchurn.
Our local dairy farmer fled in terror
as my bounding carapace crashed towards him,
and the crowd gasped in horror
as I hoisted the churn high in the air,
cracked maw wide and hungry,
then began pouring the butter
straight down my gullet.
I must have looked like a lubricated walrus,
but by the time the churn had been drained,
all the other competitors stood gobsmacked,
murmuring to themselves about the horror
and power they just witnessed.
It was at this point that I regained my faculties
and felt the ache of 10,000 frenchmen's regret.
The crowd was murmuring in horror
until a garish gent got up from his seat.

"Look at his beard! It's horrible.
I bet all the butter in the world
couldn't make him a man."
He laughed and others joined in.
The chorus continued to grow and swell until
Butterbeard became a rallying cry.
I went for a second, then a third,
and by the fifth churn no one could hold a candle
to my butter scarfing prowess.

Eventually, time fixed my failed face,
and the legend of Butterbeard
had time to blossom,
but if it wasn't for that one heckler
and a terrible breakup,
I might have remained unremarkable,
just a former butter-scarfing champ
with a face like a frying pan.

[Anonymous No.18034616]

>>18034526
Kek

Started reading it as a poem, got confused by about line 8 when i couldn't figure out the rhyme or meter...probably should have figured it out much sooner.

In paragraph 3, you used ‘horror’ 3x...there are probably a few other descriptors that could make the scene even more colorful.

[Anonymous No.18034625]

>>18034616
Thanks anon, I said murmur way too much as well. I'm just happy people read my bizarrely formatted writing exercises.

[Anonymous No.18035616]

(bump)

[Anonymous No.18035938]

>>18033270
Forgot to add a prompt:
>Time just didn’t work the same way for him as it did with everyone else

[Anonymous No.18036184]

/co/ tourist here, this is some cool shit

[Anonymous No.18036202]

>>18036184
Hasn't /co/ been mostly woke tumblr tourist broads since like 2014?

[Anonymous No.18036330]

>>18036184
Lol that is EXACTLY what i’d expect /co/ to look like!

Also, no hate, pic attached is pretty much the soul of /lit/.

[Anonymous No.18036394]

>>18033270
>>18033256
>>18033237
This is really good anon. The pacing is excellent and the writing is tight. I feel like I got to know Mohit quite well. It would be a good start to a novel, maybe a thriller (he hears something over the phone he's not supposed to? important information?) I want to keep reading.

[Anonymous No.18036882]

>>18030234
lol its a meteor

[Anonymous No.18036922]

>>18031960
>>18032156

Here from /a/

I’m intrigued that /lit/ has apparently produced something that isn’t memeshit like LoTiaT

[El Arcón No.18037830]

I'm a visitor from /sci/. This stuff is great.

[Anonymous No.18038059]

>>18032156
hey man, do you have any type of formal education on this? skill is amazing
how does one go to be a book cover designer? help a friend out with *knowledge*

[Anonymous No.18038739]

>>18038059
Lol, no training at all in design (but thanks for thinking I did!). My day job is health actuary/new father, this is my first experience writing fiction or doing anything related to production, and I'm really enjoying the escape. I’m literally throwing the cover and ads together on my work computer using a combination of Powerpoint and MS paint.

I think OP does have formal experience in writing/editing, though (and it shows).

[Anonymous No.18038903]

>>18034526
This is good! Bit of a sad tale. I want to know Butterbeard's backstory. Reminds me of an alcoholic.

[Anonymous No.18038957]

Looks like s/o added a gr page: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/57747873-rags-and-bones

[Anonymous No.18039056]

>>18027112
Glad to see the series grow, guys.

[Anonymous No.18039277]

>>18037830
>>18036922
>>18036184
Thanks for checking it out anons! There's quite a range of stories in tone, style, and just about everything, so I recommend flipping through at least a few.

[Anonymous No.18040082]

>>18038739
try canva

[Anonymous No.18040185]

>>18027112
>Treehouses become a popular housing option

Mankind has always sought shelter from the elements: warmth, comfort, security. During the eons as hunter-gatherers this may have taken the form of a cave or natural structure, altered minimally and gradually to better suit our needs. Nomadic tribes would fashion temporary shelters from branches and hides according to the seasons. It was only after the Agricultural Revolution that man began to build with permanence: first mud-brick, then wood and stone, and eventually the first dwellings of steel and glass. As our aspirations grew higher, so did our architecture; forts and castles, temples and cathedrals, market squares and shopping malls, pyramids and skyscrapers. We built for the skies, for immortality, and it was this impulse that led to the planting of Foundation Tree-T-288 in 2073.

A dwelling is matched to it’s inhabitants in both space and time. It need not only have room for it’s occupants, but it should be built to match the longevity and the pace of change of its inhabitants. The same cave could suit twenty generations of a tribe of hunter-gatherers, but a state-of-the-art twentieth century home was considered obsolete after only a few decades of use. Wood and brick gave way to wallpaper, wallpaper became plaster, plaster became painted drywall, and painted drywall became ‘exposed brick’ once again. Nothing was designed to last longer than a trend, ten years at most.

The waste was extrordinary! Uncounted trillions were consumed as generations of homeowners remodeled and renovated the same sad housebones, constantly trying to anticipate the bleeding edge of interior design and destroy any last vestiges of the past (provided they weren’t considered ‘vintage’ enough to keep). Since it was commonly accepted that any change would only need to last a matter of years, the quality of building materials deteriorated as their aesthetics grew ever richer.

This destructive cycle, endemic across all modern societies, came to an end in 2047 with the creation of BioLife’s Duralife cell therapy treatment. The wealthy could now purchase eternal life, and all that comes with it. Before Duralife, very few planned beyond the scope of a single human life. As the pace of technology increased, it became a futile exercise to imagine life even a decade out...but now there existed a class of humanity, already post- material scarcity, who suddenly had all the time in the world.

(1/3)

[Anonymous No.18040200]

>>18040185
(2/3)

This paradigm shift sent shockwaves across nearly all aspects of late twenty-first century life, but most notable was the change in how a home was perceived. From shelter to camp, fortress to estate, practical flat to iconic dwelling, the view of the home was going full-circle to again become a multi-generational base where the newly-minted immortals can create a space their globe-trotting great-great-grandchildren can come back to time and again.

Some embraced the physical nature of hearth and home; each ding and scratch, each height marked on a doorframe, adds character to the generation house like seasoning a cast iron skillet. Others saw longevity as an opportunity for constant transformation; each decade marked with a new aesthetic, a full-throated rebuke of the last.

Foundation Trees presented a radical third option of generational bases: a home that grows with you. While cut-wood, brick, and concrete will degrade with time, a living bioengineered-tree will only become stronger. While other materials must be destroyed with each renovation, Foundation Trees could be reshaped (over many years) like a bonsai. This comparison was very convenient, as a bonsai craze was emerging among the long-lived upper classes.

Foundation Tree-T-288, was designed by EcoScapes, a division of the sprawling BioLife mega-corporation looking to achieve environmental sustainability without the sacrifices so many have come to expect. T-288 was a rapidly growing chimera of dozens of trees from cedar to redwood to baobab that could be reprogrammed by activating genes through the solution at the tree roots or targeted application of non-visible wavelengths of light. Planted quietly at the center of a large wildlife preserve in 2073, it was not to be unveiled to the public for 50 years. EcoScapes was also taking the long-view, and wanted to be sure thousands of 15-30 year Foundation Saplings would be available for purchase when they showcase T-288.

(2/3)

[Anonymous No.18040221]

>>18040200
(3/3)
Their gamble paid off even better than anticipated, sending BioLife’s valuation even further into the stratosphere. T-288, now dubbed Sycamore Base (though, ironically, Sycamore may be the only tree not in it’s genetic pedigree), would be home to the family of Richard Cabot, retired president of the EcoScapes division. It’s canopy rose 150 feet into the air, and was home to not only the Cabots, but 15 species of birds and mammals who both fed from the tree and protected it from harmful insect life. It boasted seven full bedrooms within its thick trunk, and four more were in the process of growing. The views from within the canopy were breathtaking, and the cozy communal spaces nestled within the roots made one feel like stepping into a picture-book.

Over the next centuries the cities of stone and steel and glass were abandoned, either left to the short-lived lower classes, or to be returned to the natural world its walls and ceilings fought so hard to keep at bay.

Foundation Trees of every sort grew into forests, air ships of Balsa and Cork dotted the skies, seeds were sent to distant worlds and the moons of many planets now shimmered green and blue as, over centuries, the trees created an atmosphere and awaited the day their families would come home to them.

>Prompt: A scientific inquiry into mermaid/merman biology and culture

[Anonymous No.18040294]

>>18040185
>>18040200
>>18040221
I like the scientific jargon of the story, but it somehow seems too long and doesn't really add anything interesting to the original prompt, except the idea that trees would become a craze after infinite life, which is pretty beautiful ngl. It's a 3/5 for me, sorry man.
I like your prompt though.

[Anonymous No.18040339]

>>18040294
Haha, you win some you lose some...thanks for the feedback.

There isn’t really any character or plot, it’s more like a script to a nature documentary...but the idea of longevity influencing design and living houses is an idea I've had in my head for a while. It probably belongs more as a piece of a larger world-building project, but the prompt was so on-the-nose i had to give it a shot.

[Anonymous No.18040364]

>>18040339
I definitely liked the style of a history documentary, or a forgotten page in a DM's binder, it really suits the story you're trying to tell and gives it an atmosphere. Just maybe put some actual narrative that drives it forward a bit stronger, like for example, shorten the presentation of the original idea and put some kind of a rebelion that attempted to burn down the trees or something. Just rambling rn but I think you get the gist of it.

[Anonymous No.18040383]

>>18040364
>forgotten page in a DM's binder
Lol, maybe i should have posted this one to /tg/

[Anonymous No.18040534]

So does the story have to come from a prompt or no ?

[Anonymous No.18040624]

>>18040534
No, you can write without a prompt. The last anthology required flashes to come from a prompt but there isn't one going right now. Prompts can be useful for inspiration, though, and go in all kinds of unexpected directions.

[Anonymous No.18041198]

>>18040534
Protip: Post the prompt for the story you already wrote. If someone writes it, it could give you interesting ideas, if no one bites, reply to yourself.

[Anonymous No.18041476]

>>18027112
>A man loses his mind due to a pigeon waking him up each morning

This prompt was made for me.

It's almost dawn, and still awake,
I find myself with lust to slake,
and with singing violence in my brain
silence comes when my foe is slain.

I cannot remember a day without
this plump bird that struts about
and coos like satan on my stoop,
then fills my window sill with poop.
I tried to block him from my brain,
but his ever same refrain is trained
to toss me from my good night's sleep
and slowly make this grown man weep.

At first I tried to scare it off,
with thumps and thuds and muffled cough
but avian kind was not so keen
and thus spurred forth my sanguine dream.
I shrieked and screamed like a man deranged,
curses and pleas were both exchanged,
yet this pigeon remained undeterred;
I'll kill you yet your horrid bird.
With sticks and stones it remained pristine,
with sling and fist t'was still obscene
until last night when I went to feast
at St. Charles place with greasy beasts.
On the way out I saw my prize:
little sponges that grow 10 times their size
and became dinosaurs, to a child's delight;
this was my weapon for our final fight.

I laid them out amongst some grain,
and scuttled low, with neck craned,
waiting still for dawn's first break.
All the night I stayed quite awake,
until cooing caught me staring fast
and this day was sure to be its last.
It nibbled and chomped the final meal
while I looked on with lusty zeal,
and saw it bloom ten times as quick;
the bird exploded and the stoop was slick.
The only thing that remained behind
was that dino-sponge, revenge refined,
but in my triumph I swooned too high
as cooing caught my inner eye
and I realized, much to my chagrin,
another bird had broken in.
Another and another soon took up roost;
this was the only fruit the grain produced.
It was then I knew I could never sleep
and that karma always sowed what I reaped.

[Anonymous No.18041607]

>>18041476
Haha, well done!
I really want some Edward Gorey illustrations to go with this.

You had me here:
>and coos like satan on my stoop,
>then fills my window sill with poop.

[Anonymous No.18041636]

>>18041607

This one is even creepier. Kind of amazed he got this stuff published in mid-century America desu

[Anonymous No.18041647]

>>18041607
Thanks anon, I ran out of gas near the end but I'm glad you like it. I've never heard of Edward Gorey and this will be some fine afternoon googling.

[Anonymous No.18041771]

>>18041647
>I've never heard of Edward Gorey
Lucky you!

Recommend The Doubtful Guest, Amphigory, and the Unstrung Harp.

If you stirred Edgar Allan Poe and Wes Anderson into an inkwell and poured it out on a blank page, what you’d get is Edward Gorey.

[Anonymous No.18042307]

>a mushroom hunter gets more than they bargained for

I was about 16 when my father up and moved us from Arizona to Vouvant, France. He moved us their to be closer to his family. He wasn't really around much of my early life but after my mother died, he felt I'd get a better education their. Considering the alternative was being shuffled from family member to family member on the reservation, I'm inclined to agree.
Being a skinny and lanky, half-navajo/half-french teenage boy, who didn't speak the language, I spent a lot of time alone those first few years in France. Fortunately Vouvant sits at the north end of the Mervent-Vouvant forest. In those days people were kinder and there was no risk for a boy to worry about when wondering the woods by himself.
On one of these solo expeditions, I happened across a portly man and pig, who resemebled the other more it's hard to say. The man's name was Basil, and he called is pig Louis. I asked Basil what he was doing so deep in the forest, he told me him and Louis were hunting for truffles. I continued to pester him until he explained to me how they use pigs to sniff the truffles right out of the ground. This sounded like a great way to pass the time, unfortunately you can't raise a pig in an apartment. Basil informed me truffels were not the only mushrooms that grew in that region. There were girolles, chanterelles, cèpes, bolets, morilles, but most prized of all, next to truffles, was the morel. It had a very short growing season which made it a hard catch for even the most dedicated mushroom hunter.

(1/2)

[Anonymous No.18042313]

This did not discourage me though, first thing I did next morning was head to the library and read all I could about truffles. I learned to look for dry river beds, and south facing hills. The shallow fissures in the bark of an Ash tree, the toothed triangluar leaves of a poplar, and the branching trunks of an elm. I learned what temperature was required for morels to propogate, 6c to 19c. Chance would have it this was the perfect time of year.
Armed with this information, I set out the first sunny day after a nice rainfall. I set out on my hunt, checking ever tree I saw for identifying features. I was trying to find the one's I've read to have a symbiotic relationship with morels. I looked for the right slightly damp conditions near these parental trees that would be neccesary for my hunt. Looking back I can point that experience, and what follows, as the root of my future career in ecology.
I had gotten of trail a decent amount and found a river bed to follow, I remember having to test my balance crossing a log to reach a tall elm I saw aroudn the bend. As I rounded the corner I came upon a deer carcas and what looked to be a coyote picking at it. Back in Arizona I had learned the best way to get rid of a coyote is just to yell and wave your hands, they are called coy for a reason. That's what I did and I was startled to the coyote raise up on all fours looking more like it had the body of a human than that of a canine.
I stood there frozen in my tracks while it stared at me, then it ran it snorted, and ran off. I didn't really register what I had scene till I got home that night. My shimá sání had described something like this to me before, she called them Skinwalkers, she said they were evil witches who could take the shape of a coyote. Was there a navajo witch established here in France, or do the monsters of your culture follow you where you go?
In graduate school a fellow student told me of an idea. There are animals in the world that aren't aware of their predators, is it possible humans have a predator they aren't aware of. When I look back to that day in the woods of Vouvant I prefer to believe that's what I saw. That is a question that can be answered. I hope to answer it one day. I've yet to go mushroom hunting again, for morels, or otherwise.

(2/2)

[Anonymous No.18042321]

>>18041476
Nicely done anon! Made me and my friend laugh quite a bit reading it aloud. So many good lines. Saving it.

[Anonymous No.18042350]

>>18042307
>>18042313
Idea came out sorta so so. I enjoyed the research but I wish I could have come up with a better way to expound upon the ideas at the end

Prompt: A man keeps finding other people’s wallet in his pocket instead of his own.

[Anonymous No.18042393]

Blessed threads of great justice

[Anonymous No.18042440]

>>18042307
This has so many fascinating small details all packed neatly together, it all feels very real! In such a short story, you often need to drive directly to the point, but you somehow managed to create this little winding road that kept me engaged from start to finish.

Really good one, anon!

Spelling is all over the place, but i don’t give a shit as long as i can make out your meaning. Writing reminds me of my brother, who despite being dyslexic, is a beautiful writer and storyteller. Keep it up!

[Anonymous No.18042824]

>>18042307
>>18040185
Will read these soon!

[Anonymous No.18043166]

>>18042440
I appreciate it.word pad does have spell check so I didn’t even noitice, need to upgrade. I might have noticed some more if I was past the point of not wanting to re read my writing haha.

[Anonymous No.18043194]

>>18041476
Superb

[Anonymous No.18043466]

>>18027112
Hey I'm the anon that had the aneurysm, fully recovered now and so happy my stories are in this. I've been telling everyone!

[Anonymous No.18043504]

>>18043466
Excellent news! Happy for you anon.

[Anonymous No.18043591]

>>18041476
kek, very good
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bLiXjaPqSyY

[Anonymous No.18043637]

>>18027112
>Which stories stood out as your favourites?
i really like the moon ghost story, i don't know why. i think about it a lot and i'm glad it made the (second) book.
the perfumer was great.

[Anonymous No.18044134]

>>18043637
If I had to pick just one (and it would probably be different each day you asked me) I’d say the conspiracy theory one. The little details, like the smell of stinkbugs in the fall or the random barrage of 90s trivia, make it really stick in my mind.
Also this line:
>“Can I please go home? I have a family?”
>“I know Lance. I’m right here.”

[Anonymous No.18044275]

Saw the ad on /tg/, and damn I'm impressed. Congrats on getting shit done, I gotta check this out.

[Anonymous No.18044443]

>>18033299
>>a bonsai tree nursery refuses to return a tree to its owner

I was probably a junior or senior in high school when I worked at Taisha Bonsai Nursery. It was my first real job, and looking back it was a really weird and formative experience. I was really into anime and all that Japanese stuff back then — and it’s not like a kid growing up in the Louisville suburbs has that many cultural opportunities — so when my aunt told me she saw a help wanted sign, I gathered my courage and asked the owner for the job. I really thought working at a place like Taisha would be cool. I mean, it was...but not at all for the reasons I thought.

So first off, a bonsai nursery is mainly in the business of growing and selling its own bonsai trees. Most of these are little 2- to 5-year-old potted trees, the kind someone would buy as a gift for Mother’s day or for a housewarming. We knew most of these gifted trees were going (like lambs to the slaughter) to some complete amateur, so even though it was most of our revenue we didn't really put that much time into them. The older trees we raised, though, were goddamn works of art! When I first started there, I didn’t really have an eye for it, but now I can’t see a tree without training, arranging and pruning the branches in my mind.

The other part of the business was like bonsai daycare, when someone needed to travel or if they went off to Florida in the winter or something, they’d leave the trees with us. We could also repot them, prune and train them, or just consult...you'd be surprised how many people paid us just because they need someone to talk to about bonsai. Last, we’d also get the ones that the owner somehow fucked up, and we’d do our best to save it.

The shop owner, Ms. Kimoto — she was always just ‘Kimoto’, I don’t think I ever learned her first name — was deeply into all this bonsai stuff...like in an almost religious way. I’d hear her talking to the trees in Japanese, and everything she did had this very intense...intentionality to it. She never scolded me for being careless or anything, but you could just feel it when you’re not doing things to her standards so I really tried hard to learn quick. She understood English well, but she didn’t like to speak it, so a lot of the job was trying to interpret what she wanted me to do.

(1/3)

[Anonymous No.18044453]

>>18044443
(2/3)

So at the end of my last summer at Taisha, this woman came in asking about this juniper tree she brought in months back. Her father gave it to her when he passed, and she was afraid it was dying. The junipers all look brown and dead in winter, it’s called ‘frost blush’ (by the way, you couldn’t dream up a harder word for a Japanese speaker...it took me an embarrassingly long time before I figured out this is what Kimoto meant when she told me about the ‘hurosto burashu’). Anyhow, we assured her it was probably fine, but we could look after it for a bit just in case.

Kimoto loved all the trees in the nursery. Even those little gift ones...I think she may have spent less time with them because she was afraid to get too attached. But there would always be one she spent the most time with. When I started working with her, it was this gnarled old trident maple. She would wrap this string with these tiny white zigzag papers around the base of the tree and spend hours in conversation with it as she was doing chores. Well a few months after the woman dropped the juniper off, I notice she’s starting to talk to it the same way. Soon, it was the juniper with the little ribbons around it, and the trident maple was just another tree sitting on the center rack.

I asked Kimoto about this once. She said when she was young, spirits from the Izumo-Taisha shrine travelled to America with her on a bonsai. She felt they were lonely, so she would bring them more and more bonsai for company. Eventually, she decided to start a business so she could care for her bonsai garden full time. The spirits choose which tree they want to inhabit, and she marks it with the string and paper. Every year or so they choose a new home, so she must make sure each tree in the nursery is in good shape, just in case the ‘kami’ decide to move in. For reasons known only to them, it seems like they settled in the juniper.

Once the leaves recovered their deep green, it was clear the juniper really was a stunning tree. They call this style ‘root-over-rock’ (I don’t think Kimoto even tried saying that one aloud in English...we just called it ‘sekijoju’), when the tree grows above a stone so you can see the exposed roots. The juniper leaned slightly, as if a light breeze was always blowing from one side and it clung tight to the rock. Depending on how you looked at it, the miniature scene could be either calm or dynamic...it was quite special, and I guess the spirits thought so, too!

(2/3)

[Anonymous No.18044473]

>>18044453
(3/3)

As the year wore on, the woman had come by a few times asking if her father’s juniper was ready to come home. Kimoto would make some non-committal excuse or another — she was incredible at saying ‘no’ without actually saying it — and as soon as the woman left she would engage in a serious discussion with the spirits. I could never quite tell before if she really thought the spirits lived there, but the pleading in her voice after these visits convinced me.

After that summer I went off to college in Boston, I never found out what happened with the special juniper. All I know is that Taisha closed up right after I left. Maybe Kimoto closed after returning the spirit’s tree to it’s rightful owner...or perhaps she moved to escape the woman...I don't believe ill ever know. I have a bonsai of my own now, and every once in a while I’ll close my eyes and clap my hands like Kimoto did, and wish the spirits well wherever they are.

>Prompt: Cicadas emerge after 17 years underground

[Anonymous No.18045745]

Bump

[Anonymous No.18045768]

>>18027112
I haven't been back since the end of Gifts Evil and Good. What'd I miss? Also bump

[Anonymous No.18045951]

>>18028637
>ISBN
upping your game, I see

[Anonymous No.18046102]

>>18045768
nothing. this is the second one.

[Anonymous No.18046666]

>>18045768
Welcome back, anon!
You missed approximately 50 flash fiction stories.
Good news, we saved ‘em just for you:
>>>https://www.lulu.com/en/us/shop/anonymous-/rags-and-bones/paperback/product-9d7gp2.html

[Anonymous No.18046864]

>>18027112
Here’s my contribution:

The Whale was bleeding out from seeing cringe. Ahab tried to wipe his spunk on a handkerchief but his spermatozoa was too wild and free and dangerous for him to wrangle. Fin.

[Anonymous No.18047434]

>>18045951
Vellum required it this time around. I think it was optional for Gifts... or I ignored it. Can’t exactly recall.

[Anonymous No.18047469]

>>18047434
I meant Lulu not Vellum. Brain is waking up.

[Anonymous No.18047768]

>>18042307
Good build up, I like this one. I kind of wish more happened, maybe it started later so we get more of an adventure dealing with the witch. But at the same time I like the opening because we get to know the character. I think this is a great concept and opening for a novel.

[Anonymous No.18048731]

>>18041476
Excellent!

[Anonymous No.18048755]

>>18033299
>>That's not a horse

It was disclosed to the Terran Federation that, prior to our eventual ceasefire and alliance in 2135, the Martians had attempted first contact with Earth dozens of times. It is unknown how many billions of lives could have been saved had these initial outreaches been more fruitful.

Their ambassadors first engaged in non-productive conversation with trees, weather systems, and various ice age megafauna before eventually landing on humans as the most likely intelligent life. They claim to have had some initial success communicating with an Amazonian ant colony, but they ultimately classified it as mechanical device and broadened their search.

Egyptian slaves, Roman beggars, Medieval infants, poor rural farmers, deaf-mutes, madmen...it defies belief that their choice of subject could be so poor for so long though chance alone. In fact, many now hypothesize that any meaningful dialogue with the Martians so early in our history would have been so existentially catastrophic to mankind, we must necessarily be living in one of the few universes where every such outreach ended in failure. Perhaps a simpler explanation, though, is the observation that as Martians age they exhale more ethanol, so time and again they commonly mistook the most inebriated of Terrans to be our wise elders.

The Martian diplomatic service have provided their logs of these early contacts, in order to strengthen our cultural bonds.

*****

[Subject JAKE intercepted leaking water outside a loud wooden dwelling. JAKE transported to lander a distance away. Lander was disguised to resemble a small wooden outhouse.]

AMBASSADOR: Where/When/Who are you?
JAKE: What?
AMBASSADOR: Oh yes, What/Where/When/Who are you?
JAKE: Wha-where are my clothes? Who are you?
AMBASSADOR: Yes.
...
[After much interrogation it was ascertained that the subject was JAKE I-8-TALKIN, we were in TOMBSTONE ARIZONA in the year of NOVEMBER]
...

(1/3)

[Anonymous No.18048768]

>>18043466
Damn, that's good to hear! Which stories were yours?

[Anonymous No.18048770]

>>18048755

(2/3)

AMBASSADOR: Jake I-8-Talkin, where do you lay your eggs?
JAKE: Stop sayin’ that...you got nothin’ but talk in you, and it’s givin’ me a goddamn headache. Be a man and lift up that hood, why are you hidin’ scared under there?
AMBASSADOR: [brandishing Jake’s pistol] This was found in Jake’s clothing, I am not hiding it. Is this the ‘scared’ you are searching for? Would you like me to give you ‘scared’?
JAKE: [hands raised] Okay, brother, calm down...you got me. Just ask plain and I’ll tell you what I know.
AMBASSADOR: Where is your family, Jake?
JAKE: No family to speak of, just me an’ my horse.
AMBASSADOR: What is ‘my horse’?
JAKE: Oh shit, she’s still hitched up at the saloon! I need my horse back, she’s all I got. I ain’t talkin’ until I see you brought her right here.
AMBASSADOR: Yes, I will bring your family to you. Where do I find ‘my horse?’
JAKE: [with much hand movement] Not ‘your horse’, ‘MY horse’! ‘Jake’s horse’! Just go on back to the saloon and ask anyone where ‘Jake’s horse’ is. They know me there. Then you can ride back with her.
AMBASSADOR: I will find ‘Jake’s Horse’ for you.
...
[1 hour later]
...
AMBASSADOR: I am sorry, ‘Jake’s Horse’ will not come.
JAKE: What do you mean?
AMBASSADOR: I met a long-haired man in your saloon. I said I was a friend of Jake and I wanted to see ‘Jake’s Horse’. The man brought me upstairs and showed me many ‘Horse’, and said ‘this one here is Jake’s favorite’.
JAKE: Oh lord, you idiot...
AMBASSADOR: I said I must ‘ride Jake’s horse back’.
JAKE: Jesus Christ...and you said exactly those words?
AMBASSADOR: Exactly. ‘Jake’s Horse’ showed me how to ‘ride back’ but despite much noises, it was a failure, we went nowhere.

(2/3)

[Anonymous No.18048791]

>>18048770

(3/4 oops)

JAKE: You dumb son of a bitch, my horse is an animal! Four legs, not two! It’s hitched up outside the saloon...don’t go inside. If anyone asks you anythin’ just tell ‘em ‘Jake asked you to bring his ride back to him.’ You got all that?
AMBASSADOR: Yes Jake I-8-Talkin, I will bring ‘Jake’s Horse’ to you.
...
[2 hours later]
...
JAKE: Why’s there a pig here?
AMBASSADOR: This is ‘Jake’s Horse’!
JAKE: [makes alarming choking sound]
AMBASSADOR: Jake, are you alright? What is that noise you make?
JAKE: This is called laughin’, you idiot.
AMBASSADOR: It hurts Jake?
JAKE: No no, it’s...it’s a sign of respect. I am showin’ how much I respect you.
AMBASSADOR: I am honored, Jake.
JAKE: Okay, I can’t keep doin’ this...just go on and tell me the story. Why’s this hog here?
AMBASSADOR: I go to outside of the saloon and see many four leg animals. Some were tall and fierce looking with long faces, but one looked like it could be family to Jake.
JAKE: Well, hey now...
AMBASSADOR: I try to ride ‘Jake’s Horse’ as I was shown before...but again, it fails. Then I realize Jake asked me to ‘ride back’ with ‘Jake’s Horse’, I am still learning language so I am sometimes be stupid.
JAKE: [Jake honors me again with ‘laughin’] Oh don’t be so hard on yerself, you’re doing just great! So what happened next?
AMBASSADOR: I lift ‘Jake’s Horse’ onto my back and we ‘ride back’ to you. ‘Jake’s Horse’ is quite heavy, Jake must be very strong to ‘ride back’ often.
JAKE: No way in Hell you carried that hog here on your back. Where are we, anyways? How did no one notice you?
AMBASSADOR: Oh, many ones noticed me. They speak to me in loud voices.
JAKE: I’ll bet the did!
AMBASSADOR: But I tell them ‘Jake asked me to bring his ride back to him.’ And —
JAKE: You didn’t...
AMBASSADOR: And they make much ‘laughin’ when they hear Jake’s name. They honor you very highly, and ask me to tell Jake you and she make beautiful family together.

(3/4...oops)

[Anonymous No.18048805]

I'm thinking I'll write something for the "Parade of Ghosts".

[Anonymous No.18048813]

>>18048791

(4/4)

JAKE: Those sons of bitches...
AMBASSADOR: Many of Jake’s friends follow me here and wait outside to hear news of your coupling.
JAKE: WHAT?! Now you listen to me -
AMBASSADOR: Thank you, I would love to listen. Tell me Jake, after your coupling, where do you lay your eggs?

[At this point the subject JAKE became violent and needed to be restrained. The interview was terminated and both JAKE and JAKE’S HORSE were returned to his friends, who honored him much loudly]

*****

We have been unable to ascertain Jake’s true last name, or any record at all of the incident in contemporary documentation. But this presents just one of many cases where the Martians’ inability to distinguish Terran species and their intense focus on egg-laying derailed the proceedings (‘Where do you lay your eggs’ is as common a greeting on Mars as ‘Where did you go to school?’ is on Terra). Following this encounter, the Ambassador was consumed by the hive. Mars waited a full 20 years before trying again on a pirate vessel off the coast of Barbados.

>Prompt: A pirate is marooned after a mutiny fails

[Anonymous No.18049402]

>>18027112
>be me
>browsing /his/
>see an ad for this
>am interested and download the pdf
>read some of the stories
>they're all great
Nice job guys. I'm considering writing one of these, is there a specific word count?

[Anonymous No.18049464]

>>18049402
A flash is anything under 1,000 (though generally they’re between 200-1,000...too small and it’s micro fiction)

Would love a /his/ perspective, historical fiction is one of my personal favorite genres (James Michener stan). Flashes are generally based on a prompt, and when you’ve finished a story you add a new prompt to the list.

See list of current prompts here:
>>18027112
>>18033299
And check for new ones in greentext at the bottom of completed stories.

Good luck, anon!

[Anonymous No.18049466]

>>18049402
Under 1000 words, is what these threads have maintained thus far.

[Anonymous No.18049467]

>>18049402
1000 was the max for the anthology
Iirc. There’s no hard rules now though, give it a shot, it’s a lot of fun!

[Anonymous No.18049508]

>>18048755
>>18048770
>>18048791
>>18048813

Haha, I enjoyed this. Good job. Made me laugh. Thanks

[Anonymous No.18049522]

>>18049464
>>18049466
>>18049467
thanks guys. I'm gonna do the one with 11 feds at a klan rally of 12.

[Anonymous No.18049716]

>>18048805
>A Parade of Ghosts
https://pastebin.com/5RmkM3rm

New Prompt: The Secret of a Great Chef

[Anonymous No.18049862]

Greetings from /int/

[Anonymous No.18049880]

>>18049716
Absolutely beautiful, anon! Great pacing, building suspense, and perfect payoff at the last second (I saw the end of the story approaching fast and I was worried you’d leave me hanging)

Love how you made the metaphor gradually become literal here:
>I set foot on the first step, which gave a soft sigh. The next, a low groan. Then a faint cry followed by a weary lament, each step louder than the last.

[Anonymous No.18049905]

>>18049880
Thank you! I have to admit that I got a little anxious myself as I saw the word count ticking closer and closer to 1000. I had to edit it a fair bit to make sure it all fit. I'm really glad I was able to preserve the pacing.

[Anonymous No.18051048]

>>18049716
Very nice anon. It looks like you've written a few things before. Tight writing.

[Anonymous No.18051828]

>>18049522
Prompt: 11 Feds at a Klan Rally of 12
I veered a bit off prompt, but I think it turned out well enough. I also tried to keep it below 1000 words

Morgantown was a small community with a population of just above one hundred lodged deep within rural Kansas. It was a peaceful place, a home to kind people who spent their time either working on their farms or at church. Morgantown had no large criminal organizations, no rampant serial killers, not even a small time thief. To others this would be a blessing, but to James Johnson it was hell. Johnson was one of two police officers who worked in the town. For the first month or so he had been an officer, he had been fine with whittling away his time in the precinct. However, as the years went on by Johnson became increasingly upset with his situation. The only things he ever did were telling kids to stay out of trouble and detaining Harry Smith overnight for being a drunk nuisance. This monotony upset Johnson. He hadn’t become an officer to twiddle his thumbs; he wanted to become a respected pillar of the community whose many heroic deeds would inspire people. This dream of renown grew increasingly distant as time passed, but Johnson still held it dear in his heart.
(1/5)

[Anonymous No.18051836]

>>18051828
Salvation came on the night of Johnson’s fiftieth birthday. Johnson was sitting on a bench near the holding cell built into the police station and chatting with its current occupant.
“Man, you gotta let me out of here” Harry whined
“I’m sorry Harry, but you can’t wander around the town drunk.” Johnson absentmindedly responded
“Being drunk ain’t illegal.”
“Drunkenly disturbing the peace is.”
Harry chuckled
“We’re pals, right Jimmy?”
“I suppose.”
“Ain’t it your birthday today?”
“What about it?”
“How about I give you a present and you let me out?”
“No way.”
“It’s a real good present. Listen, a friend of mine told me about there being Klan meetings in the woods for the last few nights. He gave me one of those costumes they wear. How ‘bout you go undercover? Ain’t you always whinging about wanting to fight real criminals? Those guys are real criminals, right?”
Johnson perked up
“You interested? Good. How ‘bout you send me home now?”
“Fine, but you need to go straight to bed.”
(2/5)

[Anonymous No.18051841]

>>18048813
kek

[Anonymous No.18051849]

>>18051836
After Johnson took Harry home, he started to walk to the clearing in the woods where this meeting supposedly was. When Johnson saw the group, he was hit with an overwhelming wave of disappointment. Eleven guys were calmly sitting in the dirt and watching a cross burn. One of them had his mask off, but the rest were fully hidden from view. None were talking. A few minutes passed, and Johnson quickly realized he didn’t know what came next. Making conversation seemed to be the only possible thing to do. He decided to talk to the one without his mask.
“Hey there.”
The man turned to face him. Johnson soon recognized him as Walker Edington, Morgantown’s other drunk nuisance.
“Who’re you?” Walker said
“Uh… I’m Harry.”
“You don’t sound like Harry.”
“I got a cold.”
“Ah well.”
After this little dialogue concluded, the oppressive silence returned. Johnson shifted uncomfortably, coughed, and then tried once more to start a conversation.
“Do you guys want some beers?”
No one answered
“I can go grab some burgers if you guys want”
Again, no answer
Johnson was hit with a sudden sinking feeling. What did he intend to do by infiltrating this meeting? There was nothing to stop or report. Standing out in a field with the village idiot and a gaggle of silent, faceless ghosts felt pointless. This was a waste of time.
“Let’s go now.”
Johnson sharply turned to see who had spoken. It was Walker, who was now holding a small can of gasoline. Everyone present nodded and began to walk off into the night.
“This is my chance.” Johnson whispered to himself as he started going after them.
(3/5)

[Anonymous No.18051857]

>>18051849
Johnson had the foresight to bring his gun and badge with him, but had neglected to bring anything else. But this would be enough. As far as he could tell, no one else had a weapon so it would be easy to corral them back to the station. However, he couldn’t just pull a gun on them. He had to wait until a crime was being committed. To make the walk a little less monotonous, Johnson started talking with one of the other men
“Where are we headed off to”
“We’re gonna burn down a church”
“What? Why?”
“Ask him.”
The man pointed at Walker. Walker then quickly explained the plan was to burn down a Catholic church located out in Osborne county. They kept walking. Eventually, they got to the church. Walker started pouring gasoline, and the rest of the men began to fumble with things under their robes. It was now or never. Johnson quickly pulled out his gun and badge, and to his surprise every other man except Walker did as well.
(4/5)

[Anonymous No.18051870]

>>18051857
As it turns out, those other men were government agents. Walker was arrested, and the agents thanked Johnson for his help with stopping the church from being burned down. One of the agents told Johnson that they had found Walker due to someone reporting him boasting about his plan a week ago. The agents then posed as people interested in joining, and spent the next week meeting in the forest and listening to Walker’s endless blustering. Walker was carted off to some federal prison, and Johnson went back home. He thought what had happened was incredibly interesting, and chose to spend the rest of his days telling the story to whoever would listen. The story would change a little each time, with the amount of government agents decreasing and the amount of actual klansmen increasing. Soon, it came to be known that Johnson had personally destroyed a massive chapter of the Klan with only a single agent fighting alongside him. The town brought into his stories, and Johnson became a local celebrity. Johnson’s dream had been fulfilled. He had become a hero.
(5/5)
Hope this is okay, haven't done any creative writing since high school

[Anonymous No.18051881]

>>18051870
Just realized I forgot to put a prompt. Here's a new one:
>A dead person wins the presidency

[Anonymous No.18051911]

>>18048813
Made me laugh anon, I like the dry humor. Stupid autistic aliens.

[Anonymous No.18052323]

>procrastinate on writing for a specific prompt for several days
>somebody else takes it up
>it ends up being far more creative and well-written than what you would have churned out
>tfw

[Anonymous No.18052590]

>>18048768
I did the first duck story, the second skeptic story (about the coin), the time travelling skirt, and a hacker getting into God's email. I also called dibs on doing the lucid dreams story but had my anuersym and was in the hospital for about a month.

[Anonymous No.18053176]

>>18048813
>honored him much loudly
This is so clunky, it has almost double meaning because it’s poorly written.

[Anonymous No.18053359]

>>18052323
Just take a prompt no one else wants to do so you can spend 3 weeks on it :^)

[Anonymous No.18053611]

>>18053176
I think it’s meant to be clunky

[Anonymous No.18053690]

>>18052323
We’re between anthologies, here, this is just for fun. Don’t let another anon stop you from writing a prompt you want to do. Personally, i really like seeing how differently two authors interpret the same prompt.

>>18052590
Look at this guy, both the duck story and the skeptic story were one of two...but i think we’re all glad he stuck with the prompts and gave us the Bread Gods and a man driven mad by a slowly turning coin.

Keep it up, anon, don’t let all those half-baked stories clutter your mind...good, bad, or whatever, let ‘em out!

[Anonymous No.18053743]

>>18053611
This.

>>18053176
If that’s the only spot in the story you think might ‘almost has a double meaning’ I think you may have missed a bit.

[Anonymous No.18053987]

>>18027163
Ah, it's real cool seeing my stuff published in a book, but I'm so dissatisfied with the ending I wrote.

[Anonymous No.18054345]

>>18053987
Then re-write it.
It’s not like being a part of an anonymous self-published anthology means your story is chiseled in stone.

I’d read the shit out of a version2 for most of the flashes in GE&G and R&B. I feel the earliest threads had many more rewrites and revisions than the newer ones (easier for the editor, no doubt...but i miss seeing the process of stories being tightened up)

[Anonymous No.18054826]

>>18051870
Your technical writing is good, but for me the story is too on the nose — like watching a military march when you wanted interpretive ballet. Readers generally like twists and surprises.

[Anonymous No.18054975]

>>18051849
Really enjoyed your writing, but there was such a great opportunity for comedic misunderstanding with this prompt...as the other anon said: it definitely delivers, but there wasn’t really any twist.

>he was hit with an overwhelming wave of disappointment.
I don’t think i understand this part...wouldn’t he be thrilled to find the tip was correct?
Also, it’s not said that he put on the Klan robe and hood...I imagine putting those on would have been a bit of a moral conflict before heading into the woods.

Please don't take any of the above as discouragement - your writing was clear and you quickly established the characters and their motivations - really looking forward to future contributions!

P.s. The dead president is a fantastic prompt idea. Can’t wait to see how other anons will spin this one.

[Anonymous No.18055155]

>>18054826
>>18054975
Thank you for the feedback guys! I totally agree the story didn't have enough of a twist. I was considering having the ending be that the one actual klan member goes home and the feds there actually burn down the church. Would that be a better ending? Also the part about him being disappointed to see the meeting was because the meeting was so small and insignificant.

[Anonymous No.18055210]

>>18055155
Maybe Johnson was the mark, so when Harry shows up in his place it was 11 feds and 1 cop (who dropped his badge)

Or maybe none of the feds knew about each other, so they keep vaguely escalating the situation while refusing to get their hands dirty, encouraging walker (or perhaps a poor Harry incognito) to ever more intense acts.

Etc etc

[Anonymous No.18056292]

>>18052590
Thank you that means a lot to me I'm glad you enjoyed them. I actually have the lucid dreams story fully written hopefully it can make it into 3.

[Anonymous No.18056808]

>>18049716
>The Secret of a Great Chef
Working on this one, I’ve managed to make this quite a complicated plot to research and unravel so it may take a bit...no worries if anyone else tales a shot in the meantime, 100% sure I’m going in a different direction with this one.

[Anonymous No.18057481]

>>18027112
>flash
Nigga it’s 2021, that proprietary trash is supposed to be dead

[Anonymous No.18057498]

>>18057481
>>18057481
What should I write instead?

[Anonymous No.18057804]

>>18057498
HTML5-fiction

>>18057481
Don't worry, anon, i see you.

[Anonymous No.18058217]

>>18056808
Well, since you said we could take a shot...

>The Secret of a Great Chef
The meal was to be extravagant
by the cost for comission alone;
three courses of amuse bouche
carefully curated by a legend.
With a quick scan of the table,
I was relieved to find I wasn't
overdressed for the occassion.
There were no sequins or ball gowns,
neither tie nor cumberbund,
and my sports coat t-shirt combo
fit well among checker patterned
charlatans and cocktail dressed
distractions.
Directly across from my station
bespectacled tweed stared
at me over tortoise rims
as he flailed about trying to capture
the disinterested faux-waif beside me.
The combination of haphazard dusky eye shadow
and perfect crimson lips had caught my eye,
but her listless gaze was beyond reproach,
presumably by a cocktail of xanax and ennui.
Still, I found myself enchanted
by her designer-ripped brocade
and the haughty red bra-strap peeking through.
Perhaps in another life we were together,
flicking cigarette butts off an overpass
as the traffic screamed below,
but tonight was a special occasion
and as the my Casio cried midnight,
my dalliance was snuffed out
by thin man in a penciled on suit.

"Good evening all,
looks like we have a full house.
A better maitre'd than myself
would find a card pun
to break the ice,
but that's just not my style.
I presume you're aware
of Chef Salazar Montgomery's
pedigree and achievements?"
He raised a thin eyebrow
and let his gaze wash over the crowd
until he caught the knitted brows
of a conservative older woman.
"Ah, well for those who paid admission
but find themselves in my company
by twist of fate, Chef Salazar Montgomery
has one goal: to combine the baroque
with the mundane.
His style has been described
as molecular gastronomy for the soul,
and he exclusively caters to the elite
of the elite, such as yourselves.
If you find conversation lacking,
look around at his collection of satiated patrons.
Each of these 184 autographed pictures
were earned by the sweat of his brow,
and the quality of his cookery.
Now, before we begin, I'm sure there may be
some questi-" The tweed man harrumphed
and raised a neatly trimmed finger.

(cont, 1/3 or 4)

[Anonymous No.18058236]

>>18058217

"What happened to Senator Armstrong?"
His delivery was as slanted as his intent,
and the maitre'd dropped all expression
for one brief moment.

"Anaphylaxis: misfortune brought about
by an unannounced allergy.
There will be no further discussion
to this point, and if you insist on continuing,
you will be escorted from the establishment
without refund." The tweed man looked deflated
and an array of reactions crawled over the crowd.
We had all heard the story of Senator Armstrong.
She was running for her third consecutive seat
and was the leading candidate for president,
before she arrived at Chef Salazar's establishment
and left on a stretcher.
I suppose these things happen,
thankfully I had no known allergies myself.
The woman to my left began to stir,
like a predator waking from hibernation.

"This meal will be three courses, yes?"
She asked knowingly, with an upward inflection.

"Ah yes Madame Rosemary,
three complete courses.
In total there should be seven bites
divided into romantic, modern, and post-modern.
Those with a delicate palate are welcome
to an alternative post-modern course
in the room to our left."
The maitre'd gestured to
an ornate set of double doors,
while staring directly at the conservative older woman.
"There is no shame in taking the alternative course.
I myself would, given the option,
but I'm not here to eat
and the decision is entirely yours.
Anyways, I've rambled on like my father
for far too long.
Please enjoy your first dish."
With that, the matire'd scuttled away,
and out came waiters complete
with an ornate cloche for each patron.

As the waiters lifted the cloches
with practiced synchronicity,
I spied a large Faberge egg customized to my particular tastes.
The tweed man received a copper egg
with elaborate ebony fillagre,
and Madame Rosemary received a monochrome egg,
much to her subdued delight.
My egg was sapphire and gold,
hinged in the middle,
and featured a carved triptych
of a man staring at a sandwich,
eating said sandwich,
and a plowed field with a single tree.
I had read the preparatory material
and knew the first course was an egg
done three ways: poached, boiled, and folded.
The clasp popped open and my heart leapt
as the saffron, thyme, chervil and chives
wafted towards me.
Inside the egg, Chef Salazar had made a little nest,
and each of the three eggs sat like fledglings,
eager for the sins of this world.
I devoured the romantic plate
in three swift bites,
savoring every second.
Tweed also looked rather content as he slurped back
the poached egg, and closed his eyes smiling.
Madame Rosemary looked as bored as ever,
quickly popping each bite into her mouth
without a hint of emotion.

(2/3 or 4)

[Anonymous No.18058259]

>>18058236
Next was the modern course.
This time the cloches were simple;
round and chrome with no frills.
Inside was a square plate
with three cuts of meat:
venison, veal, and lamb.
The lamb was served off the rack
as a little lollipop with a dab
of fois gras and a sweet sauce.
The veal was breaded and served
with some mysterious pepper
in a tomato based sauce.
The venison had been braised in red wine
and was served as a bleeding cube
of blue-rare meat with mushrooms.
At this point, the conservative lady
was fidgeting about with her purse,
motioned to a waiter, and was quietly
escorted into the nearby room.
Perhaps blue-rare was too much,
or maybe she was a baby animal abolitionist?
No matter, each bite was more exquisite
than the last.
Tweed was moaning with pleasure
as he took slow calculated bites,
and even Madame Rosemary cracked
a thin smile as she sunk her teeth
into the braised venison.
Something about this course
struck me as savage;
a joyous and primal way
to enjoy food that I hadn't experienced
since childhood.
I remembered gnawing on great turkey legs
as I walked round the renaissance fair
with my parents, and basked in the moment.

Once the modern course had been cleared,
the maitre'd materialized
at the head of the table.
"How has your dinner been so far?"

"A cornucopia of delights!"

"Absolutely magical."

"It took me back to my childhood."

"I wish I could have that venison
as an entire meal."

The maitre'd smiled as compliments piled up
in anticipation of the post-modern course.
With a snap of his fingers, a third cloche arrived.
This one was tarnished and square,
unusually against the garish place settings.
It was covered in a thick red goo I couldn't place,
and required a secondary plate to make sure
the white tablecloth wouldn't become stained.
My mind raced. What could be under this cloche?
Only one bite remained of the amuse bouche,
and it had to be something spectacular to
take the place of an entire course.
(3/4)

[Anonymous No.18058269]

>>18058259

"Do not open this cloche until you're ready.
If you've made it this far into your meal,
you've tasted some of the finest ingredients
prepared lovingly by a diligent brigade,
under the watch of the finest chef
the world has ever known.
This final course is a testiment to his greatness,
the greatness of Chef Salazar Montgomery.
Before we begin, I have one formality to take care of.
I need you to sign this nondisclosure agreement.
If you look to your place setting,
you should find a thin needle-like pen.
For the sake of the performance,
I need you to sign this paper in your own blood.
Garrish? Perhaps. But Chef Salazar's secret
is what keeps his guests coming back for more,
and it wouldn't be fair to future patrons
if you spoiled the fun." The maitre'd
cracked a thin smile, just like Madame Rosemary's,
as paper circulated and one by one we all signed
the nondisclosure aggreement in our own blood.
Once the papers had been gathered,
the maitre'd lit up like christmas
and hurried the wait staff behind each guest.
"You may lift your cloche, bon appetit."

As I lifted my cloche, the smell was intoxicating;
foreign, spicy, and just a bit sweet.
It smelled like the two previous courses
mixed together in a way that only a master could.
Once the steam dissipated, Madame Rosemary laughed,
and Tweed shot up from his chair,
stammering incoherently.

"Y-you can't. You can't expect us to eat that.
God, what was in the other courses?
I wont eat it, I can't eat it.
I'm calling the police.
What the fuck is wrong with you?"
Tweed's face was white as death,
and two waiters grabbed him by either arm,
while a third placed a gun to his head.

"Did you sign the agreement?
It appears so. You're going to eat it
and better yet, you'll never speak about it
on pain of death. What do you think
happened to Senator Armstrong when she tried
that exact same thing?" The maitre'd laughed
as Tweed sat down, mouth flapping like a fish.

On the plate in front of me was a baby,
a human baby, divided into portions
for the liver, sweetbreads, tongue,
ribs, arms, and legs.
Each portion had a little flag
sticking out with a description
of both what the part was, and how it was prepared.
The flag jammed directly into
the baby's head read:
"Young Long Pig, served rare over rice."
Madame Rosemary was the first to sample
her long pig, and seemed to enjoy the entire experience.
The rest of the table followed suit
smacking and chewing like the animals they were.
Some cried, others vomited,
but not one had gotten up to leave.
When my turn came around
I towed the line,
and honestly enjoyed it more than I'd like to admit.
Chef Salazar was worth the price of admission,
and I made sure to reserve a spot for next time
on my way out the door.

(4/4)

[Anonymous No.18059512]

>>18058217
Looks delicious anon, will read in the morning.

[Anonymous No.18059623]

>>18059512
Maybe wait until after you finished breakfast, anon...
*whew* that one took a turn.

[Anonymous No.18060221]

[Anonymous No.18061179]

bump

[Anonymous No.18061490]

>>18060221
what the fuck

[Anonymous No.18061735]

>>18060221
By far the best one here.

[Anonymous No.18062536]

Does anyone have the current list of unused prompts?

[Anonymous No.18063184]

>>18058269
I really enjoyed the literary style and build up, the lush descriptions. I wish publishers allowed writing to take time and indulgence. They want everything so fast and crude for low attention span readers.

[Anonymous No.18063217]

>>18062536
Will post shortly

[Anonymous No.18063260]

Current Prompt List:
>A former viral star struggles to extend their 15 minutes of fame
>A Mexican, a Jew and a black man walk into an Irish pub
>An ice cream man sets up shop outside a union job site in a rough part of town
>A man tries to sell lucid dreams to someone (
>The entire world is put under the effects of DMT (>>18056292)
>A poker game where everyone cheats
>a church closure
>A frog falls in love with a dog who's in love with a worm (one anon already posted his intro to this, waiting for the rest!)
>Planning a mundane errand begins to sound like an epic tale
>an old cat needs prescription eyeglasses
>feral gibbons living on the outskirts
>a jealous parrot is in love with its married owner
>A flash fiction writer receives advice on 4chan from the reincarnation of Cervantes
>A student goes to great lengths to finish their essay on time
>The next phase of the Instagram model craze (>>18028006)
>Humanity enters into a total war with a species of humanoids from Mars that looks exactly like just, except they have bright green skin. (>>18029618)
>A bookreader on a roof gets called out for being a poser (>>18031072)
>Time just didn’t work the same way for him as it did with everyone else
>A scientific inquiry into mermaid/merman biology and culture
>A man keeps finding other people’s wallet in his pocket instead of his own.
>Cicadas emerge after 17 years underground
>A pirate is marooned after a mutiny fails
>A dead person wins the presidency

[Anonymous No.18063324]

>>18058217
i really like the second half of the first verse

[Anonymous No.18063355]

this cover goes very hard
love from /out/
I hate women so much it's unreal

[Anonymous No.18063407]

>>18058269
i like it. what is this? prose poetry? i love the fable-like feel especially prevalent in the first half.
also i think you misspelled testament

[Anonymous No.18063439]

>>18063260
Oops, meant to write:
>A man tries to sell lucid dreams to someone (>>18056292)

That’s what I get for trying to post on the d/l during a video conference...you guys are gonna get me fired!

[Anonymous No.18063456]

>>18063407
I think it’s just prose with line breaks...

[Anonymous No.18063467]

>>18063456
why?

[Anonymous No.18063751]

>>18063324
>>18063184
>>18059512
>>18059623
Thanks anons, I'm just really happy that anyone reads anything I write. I appreciate it.

>>18063407
>testament
Nailed it. I write in notepad so I'm surprised there weren't way more. There's also "the my cassio" part, and unusually vs unusual, but I've fixed it in my draft. Anyways, I guess I can talk about my style because I know it's weird.

I'm the same guy who wrote that pigeon poem a few posts back and I have two main problems when I write: excessive wank in my straight prose, and the editing/re-editing death spiral. So, to save myself, I just sit down and write it all in one sitting in this weird half poetry way that feels comfortable. I only edit small chunks at a time and it keeps me from losing the plot or motivation for the whole story. Big blocks of text are just so oppressive, you can't even imagine how many times I rewrote this stupid post because I went back to edit it. To close, I didn't think people would read something formatted with linebreaks and used to edit them out, but I've been lazy and it seems like people like it for the niche factor, so that's been a pleasant treat.

[Anonymous No.18064287]

>>18027112
This gives me Google Doc vibes.

Nice anons.

I migrated from /lit/ to /biz/ this summer and lost a bit of my soul.

[Anonymous No.18064302]

>>18054345
yeah, no, I'm 100% going to rewrite it, but it's just a little too late now.

[Anonymous No.18064869]

>>18063751
It's an interesting format. I like it quite a bit and want to read more. I think it makes dense and flowery prose more readable, especially online or on mobile. Very interesting way to deliver writing styles that readers might otherwise not give a chance.

[Anonymous No.18066001]

Bump

[Anonymous No.18066996]

>>18066001
Second.

[Anonymous No.18067440]

>>18063456
>I think it’s just prose with line breaks...

>>18063467
>why?

I think i was wrong in saying this isn’t poetry. ‘What is poetry’ is subjective, so we’re all entitled to our own opinions...but even under my own definition I believe I was wrong.

Poetry (my definition):
>Writing under some structural constraint (Meter, rhyme, syllables (haiku), alliteration, etc) which materially influences the resulting piece of work
>Length constraints (flash fiction) probably doesn’t qualify, but 6-word stories certainly would. There’s plenty of gray in there.

Not Poetry
>Unconstrained (free) prose structure

Looks like poetry, but isn’t:
>a piece that follows structure entirely but abandons meaning (picking rhyming words at random)
>A piece written in normal prose, but altered later to look different (spacing, pagination, line breaks)...a chapter of harry potter in the shape of an owl
>An authorial idiosyncrasy that doesn’t materially affect the text itself (unique spelling/capitalization/punctuation/spacing)
(i thought, incorrectly, that your piece fell i to this category)

Doesn’t look like poetry, but is:
>a piece influenced by a structural constraint (meter/rhyme, etc), but without breaks to indicate lines/stanzas.
>works even if the reader doesn’t understand/notice the rules (number of letters follow digits in pi, first word from each sentence chosen at random, never use VWXYZ) as long as it forces the author to choose words thoughtfully to both say something and to satisfy poetic structure.

As you say, the line breaks were an intentional device you added in order to alter how you write (not just an affectation added after the fact)

Sorry for being so autistic about what is/isn’t poetry (and double autistic for writing this garbage explaining myself).

Tl;dr
I was being intellectually lazy and ungenerous, and assumed you were being lazy too. Great work anon.

[Anonymous No.18067568]

>>18027112
>A flash fiction writer receives advice on 4chan from the reincarnation of Cervantes


"So you want me to send her this swill?"

"Swill? What you wrote was brilliant Anon. I've never been much for style, for me good comic writing rests upon the content but I really like what you've done with this little prose piece. Give yourself a pat on the back, you've been original, none of those little nasties you considered bold and original. It's all you and I couldn't be more proud"

"But you look solemn"

"Blame the etcher, isn't my fault I materialised as a namefag who has to rely on avatarfagging to produce some semblance of character"

"You could rely on your writing. You are one of the greats"

"Never was much for literature. Plus it's fun to see different versions of myself, none of them even close to how I look but it is what it is and if I've learned one thing in my lif-"

"So, you think she'll like it?"

"I mean its not a love letter and shes just the editor of some schoolyard rag. Shes desperate for content so you'll be fine."

"Uh huh."

"Oh now, come on, you'll be fine. If you overthink this you won't ever be anything more than a mediocrity. Some nice empty epithets here, some plain sentences there and then it's bedtime. Congratulations you've done your time on Planet Earth and spent your labour in self doubt having nothing to show for it, so please just send the story"

I guess if it was good enough for the author of the Quixote, it was good enough for me, but not really. Miguel had been pestering me all week to send the story to her but my pretentiousness caught with me and sequestered all earnest feeling. What I hold in my hands is the best I could do in terms of honesty. The language doesn't have the necessary grace or sweetness to enchant or entice and a great deal of the climax relies on melodramatic emotion. I thought it was better to bin the text and start afresh but this text has the backing of literature's finest, so I trust his aesthetic judgement. So I come up over to her house, the thread open and I can see Cervantes oogling over the gallery of transsexuals posted. I ring the bell and I'm stiff. I'm getting nervous, hands jittery, arms wobbly and the door opens.

"Hi"
"Oh hello anon, how are you do-"
"Take this"

I unload everything onto her, shes startled and I am nervous. She begins to read and then she stops and then she laughs. Immediately, the notifications start to roll in. I excuse myself even though there's no need, she's in hysterics, the story wasn't meant to be funny. I open the phone and I see a dozen new posts, beginning with a full transcription of my story and Sancho and The Don providing some running commentary. Somehow Mr. Quixote lacks his trademark sweetness and seems to enjoy deriding my labour. Cervantes posts again, this time just a .gif of him smiling and winking at me.

[Anonymous No.18068056]

>>18067568
Read it quickly but I think I have to read it again for better appreciation. Will post feedback tomorrow!

[Anonymous No.18068818]

>>18067568
>A flash fiction writer receives advice on 4chan from the reincarnation of Cervantes

Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra
>En efeto, lo que yo alcanzo, anon, es que para componer ficción flash, de cualquier suerte que sean, es menester
un gran juicio y un maduro entendimiento.

>Ahora digo, que no ha sido sabio el autor de ficción flash, sino algún ignorante hablador, que, a tiento y sin algún discurso, se puso a escribirla, salga lo que saliere.

Anon
>Go back to /int/, pablo

[Anonymous No.18069665]

>>18027163
BASED to see someone saved my cat pic. His name is Harvey and he's a porker.

[Anonymous No.18070649]

>>18064287
tell me how to get rich quick

[Anonymous No.18070712]

>>18067440
that is likely the case but nevertheless it was pulled off rather well

[Anonymous No.18070725]

>>18067568
kek

[Anonymous No.18071611]

Bump

[Anonymous No.18072310]

My copies are in the air and heading my way!

You have ordered yours, right anon?

[Anonymous No.18073134]

Bump

[Anonymous No.18073742]

>>18067568
A bit confusing about who is doing what and where. I like the overall tone though.

[Anonymous No.18074336]

There was a prompt (more like a writing exercise) someone posted in /wg/ that really resonated with me! I know it wasn’t on the /ffa/ prompt list, but thought I’d post my take here.
>>18071926
>>"Describe a barn as seen by a man whose son has just been killed in a war (Do not mention the son, war, or death. Do not mention the man who does the seeing.)"

After a long night running free in the dark, dancing across sunburned skin and winding through thicket beard, his tears stilled at the sight of the rising sun. They crowded in his deep crowsfeet and looked in awe upon the land: a field of leaves, from horizon to horizon, reached to the sky from their neat furrows.

They were witness to a rare sight. This particular shade of lightest green - nearly golden - hadn’t been seen in this valley for years. The tears were still new to this land of prosperity, so they hadn’t yet learned what any sensible man could take in at a glance, this beautiful amber sea presaged a true tragedy. The entire expanse, weeks past cropping and showing the first signs of wilt, were unsalvageable. Amidst the ruin, the tobacco shed’s vents opened wide, beckoning her children to seek shelter from the sun within. She too, after years of harvest, knew they belonged nestled inside her, curing in neat hung rows, crisping in her shade, swaying in thanks as a fresh breeze from her open walls cuts through the thick, sweet air.

The back of his hand streaked through the salt pool gathered at the corner of his eye. Each passing knuckle wicking away more of the tears. Sandpaper skin, hardened by sun and work, greedy for moisture, reduced the crowsfeet to a dry riverbed. Cold breeze rushed to replace warm tears. Watching the sun rising over the shed, used to make his heart sing with pride. This land - rich with sacrifice, fertile with possibility - was a life’s work; a gift to be passed this year into younger hands and a keener mind.

Young hands and minds, however, were needed in far away places for unfathomable purposes. The next crop of men of tobacco valley were harvested and bundled, hung to cure on the smoke of distant fires. They were stripped and cut and wrapped in sheets, finally to return home again packed tight in their neat little boxes.

[Anonymous No.18074346]

>>18074336

[Anonymous No.18075837]

The last bump.

Thread seems to be slowing down...will likely kick the bucket tonight. Well done anons, for the completion of Vol2 and for an extremely productive (and generally positive) thread, in less than a week we’ve had 13 flashes posted.

We’re going to slow the pace of /ffa/ down a bit. We’ll post a new thread on Wed April 28, and perhaps once each two weeks thereafter, to give everyone time to read, write and rest.

Final flashes below for those who missed any:

>a prehistoric tribe reacts to a meteor
>>18030234

>A novice conman does a confidence trick successfully
>>18033237

>>A memoir by Butterbeard the Great
>>18034526

>Treehouses become a popular housing option
>>18040185

>A man loses his mind due to a pigeon waking him up each morning
>>18041476

>a mushroom hunter gets more than they bargained for
>>18042307

>a bonsai tree nursery refuses to return a tree to its owner
>>18044443

>That's not a horse
>>18048755

>A parade of ghosts
>>18049716

>11 Feds at a Klan Rally of 12
>>18051828

>The Secret of a Great Chef
>>18058217

>A flash fiction writer receives advice on 4chan from the reincarnation of Cervantes
>>18067568

>Describe a barn as seen by a man whose son has just been killed in a war (prompt from /wg/)
>>18074336

[Anonymous No.18076412]

>>18074336
Really incredible job. My first thought was a field of wheat to be reaped, threshed, and ground into a fine powder. However, curing tobacco was a really unique take, one I appreciate all the more as a pipe aficionado. Masterfully done as well, I might add!

[Anonymous No.18077578]

bump

[Anonymous No.18078429]

>>18075837
see you folks in the next iteration
keep on writing

[Anonymous No.18079753]

Should we leave the thread to bump off?