/lit/ - Literature

[Anonymous No.1964110]

Flash fiction thread? Flash fiction thread.

And they were just standing there, just watching like it wasn't even an option to do anything but stand there and watch. Like by just standing and watching they were doing all that was possible in the face of what was unfolding. Which was, to all who read or heard of what happened there, a needless tragedy. You or me or everyone who was not there would have seen what needed to be done, how to stop the tragedy, how to stop the unfolding which must have seemed so inevitable to those who stood and watched. But that was the problem, must be the problem, they didn't have anyone who was not there. So the tragedy could not be stopped because there was not anyone there to stop it or to do anything but stand and watch.

[Anonymous No.1964123]

Flash Fiction: Because You Want to Write but You're Too Lazy to Try in Earnest.

[Pointman !!+QAUf+RigRX No.1964133]

I banged at the door in a exaggerated flurry of rage, shouting out an excess amount of expletives to bring across additional emotion from behind the door. Point being, the doctor could not see my plain face, but any initiative he took to listen from within the room to my shrill cries would assure a response. There was little surprise from my immediate imagining of my brother already coked-out on the bed, sprawled out and funneling the most idiotic phrases he could muster in that haze as I would enter the room. The doctor might spill out some response to whatever calm facade I could put on to respond to this, though he assuredly be oblivious to this disgusting bond I held with my sibling.

It was quiet as I stood waiting for a movement at the door handle, it had been quite some time after the long period of my exasperated attempts to act furious. While I had considered to repeat my actions, my miraculous lead-in towards the doctor seemed to work as the door flung away to open up the room, the doctor breathing out often with sweat soaked deep in his brows.

[Anonymous No.1964137]

This should be called Stopwatch.

[Anonymous No.1964143]

A Profound Statement on the State of Religion, Sex, Society and the Place of Women:


I went to the park the other day. The second my ass touched seat, a myriad of pigeons flocked over and looked up at me with cocked heads. I ignored them and flipped open my newspaper.
A spate of assaults along a running track, a train derailed in India, and a token happy story about a puppy who could play the flute. As I read about Benji the flutist canine, a pigeon walked into my field of vision. I could just see its head bobbing along the top of my newspaper. It stopped right in front of me and cocked its head to the side, expecting breadcrumbs.

We stared eyes-to-eye, the pigeon and I. Then I jerked my foot out and gave it a swift kick.

It stayed stiff as a board, and flopped in a wide arc over onto its back without flapping wings or kicking feet. It righted itself and walked back over to me, dumbly waiting for crumbs.

[Pointman !!+QAUf+RigRX No.1964150]

>>1964143
>>1964143

I like this!

The topic is silly but as I'm reading I can't help but see the image and laugh.

[Anonymous No.1964198]

>>1964123
I said flash fiction, not flash non-fiction. Which is also good though. I wrote this:

John F. Kennedy was assassinated on November 22nd 1963 in Dallas Texas. He soiled himself upon dying.

[Anonymous No.1964210]

A dark-complected bulky guy hollered 'Durp' from five feet away at me across a busy intersection as we biked past each other. I glanced around to my right as I flew forward; the light was red on his side. I glanced around to my left, seeing the stupid meathead on his bike with a similarly ugly friend, and hollered, 'Roodypoo!!' I turned back. Perhaps a second had passed. On the corner I was passing towards my house the old man with the permanent garage-sale was sitting in a lawn chair in front of his collection of useless knick-knacks and overpriced furniture. His puzzled face coiled up into a smile as his eyes met mine. But then the eyes widened, at the same moment that a guttural roar from twenty feet behind me inspired an instant bowel-trembling reaction. I saw his eyes slide behind me, and I glanced back, and saw the two once-friendly-yet-irritating morons now masked with faces of hate. Their slitted yellow eyes would bespeak murderous intent if they weren't shielded by sunglasses, but their eyebrows and taut lips straight like knives did the job.

[Anonymous No.1964213]

>>1964210
cont. (too long I know -- srry)

I muttered, 'Eep,' turned forward to pedal a little harder, but they had already been just a dozen feet behind me and advancing, so another second went by and still five feet from the next traffic light I felt a large blunt object crash into the back of my neck seconds before I heard the whistling of spokes. 'Uh oh,' I thought as I toppled to the concrete face first, landing hard on my right elbow and forearm, and then time slowed down even more as I heard a bike screech and rattle hard as it fell sideways and crashed into the asphalt, and then I felt a foot lash into my stomach. Then another one hit the side of my ribcage, from the other side, and I rolled onto my back, face-up, feeling my legs tangled like duct-tape around the frame of my bike, and hearing a soft-crush in my backpack underneath me (the dessert pie I was bringing home from the grocery store) and then hear the slapping of soles on pavement and the old garage-sale owner's voice shouting 'You guys! Stop! Stop!' and I don't see anything above me but yellow clouded sky, and the kicks are stopping, and I let out a rattling breath, which hurts so good.

[Sherlock Holmes Guy No.1964601]

Of all life's petty disasters and ignoble deaths there was only one of which I was actually terrified. To die marooned and blubbering on a lonely island rock would have been, in retrospect, preferable to the dread of failure I felt while ascending that creaking stair. But alas, curiosity gets the best of us and I am nowhere near the best of anything; I certainly rank far below the newborn kitten in my ability to resist a niggling question. And thus I find myself at the door of my partner's chamber, spine and legbones rippling with electric jelly, tongue and palate fusing, stomach anticipating a sudden plunge.

The door is ajar. Anon is within, reciting his rosary. I knock.

"Who is it?"

"It is I, Holmes Guy."

A pause.

"Do come in."

Crisis averted. My stomach and tongue uncurl. The jelly loses its charge, seeps harmlessly out of each trouser leg and I am restored. I enter with a broad smile, for all is well. Anon clasps my hand in warm greeting, and with my other hand I swiftly introduce the unseen blade into his abdomen. Anon's eyes widen. I twist the blade. His eyes swarm all over my face, questing for a reason behind this evil deed. I withdraw the blade. The fluttering eyes, beautiful even in death, roll backward and receive no explanation. I, however, have gotten the answer I came for: Anon really hadn't suspected a thing. I knew I could pull it off, but this is a triumph nigh on perfection, exceeding all expectation. Indeed, I think to myself while cleaning the knife, this is occasion to break out the "everything went better than expected" PNG and post the whole story online for my friends to read.