flash fiction general

[imafuckingtool No.2297823]

posted this on mu and an anon got butthurt so crossposting here

flash fiction general
peaches
About half an hour ago the moon slipped out of Jeanettes field of vision, leaving only
the occasional roving beams of a passing car and the ghostly buzz of the flourescents overhead.
A grimace flashed over her face as she wondered why they kept the bodega open all night - or much
past sundown for that matter - this far out in the suburbs what little traffic wandered in past
twilight was usually more trouble than it was worth. This neighborhood, though relatively new
considering the disctrict, nurtured a claustrophobic atmosphere around it that seemed to bring
out the most desperate in everyone passing through. Those that do choose to settle here, for reasons
of financial strain or the close commute to the airport to the east, ultimately shut themselves indoors.
A late night stroll would bring many faces to windows but all the same would leave all porch lights
off. Even working the counter during the day shift, Jeanette was an interloper here, and her
concentrated dismissal of the vague repulsion of her environment set it's residents on edge.

Regardless, Jeanette was set upon her task, a simple one at that - simply restock the fruit cans with the new merchandise. At most she'd have to scoot a pillar of soup over a few inches and move the sign with it. This was not work Jeanette could really complain about, but it wore on her- a stack of organization put together haphazard that she must somehow align with her own methods of sorting. It was more work than the job description let on, and probably more than she earned in her paychecks, but regular money was what it was and so Jeanette trudged on diligently, sorting lemons and limes alphabetically and by quality with little hassle.

[imafuckingtool No.2297825]

The best part of the job was the riskiest- late at night Jeanette would have long stretches of hours with no work to be done and no customers to serve, so she was free to do as she wanted. Usually this meant little more than reading a book at the counter, but occasionally (and only when Jeanette felt rather free and uncontrollable) she'd allow herself to dance to the weak pop music playing through the PA

it was in this relative environment of frailty that the door clanged out against the fluorescents - beyond the initial clang of an incoming customer there was an uncommon pause...generally the door would swing back and allow another light cursory ring to signify the doors closing and a customer entirely within the store. This case was different, the clang rang out empty, echoing against the linoleum with sincere dread. Jeanette looked at the can of peaches in her hand, (a can of Libby's Peaches, terribly overpriced at 8,99 a can) and decided it was best to keep hold of them. There was no knowing what the counter would hold

[imafuckingtool No.2297826]

>>2297825
>>2297823

the counter did not bring the immediate danger she had suspected however, just a gentle old man in his fifties clutching his raincoat for warmth as he carefully selected the bunch of bananas he would bring home. She eyed him from the end of the canned food aisle - he didn't see her but his stance clearly showed he knew he was being watched. Gently he swung the bunch of bananas towards the front of the store, quietly whistling as he carried them jovially towards the counter. She saw no reason to be suspicious at this point, and revealed herself from the corner of the aisle, assuring him that she would be with him as soon as she got to her register. He smiled, into himself as though he were enjoying a subtle joke whispered to him and placed the fruit upon the counter.

The bananas rang up at 3.74, she cheerfully gave him the total as she placed the fruit in a plastic bag. He smiled again, the same quiet smile that held secrets, and placed a five dollar bill on the counter. As she counted out his change he told her to keep it - she would earn it soon enough. Slightly puzzled but still flattered, Jeanette blushed and accepted the tip - it wasn't often that she got extra cash on her job, and she was not dignified enough to turn it down- how dare she buck fate and turn down anything for free? She told the man to have a nice night and she meant it- he was kind and a welcome surprise from the typical aggressor that would come to buy cigarettes from her at this hour

[imafuckingtool No.2297829]

>>2297823

immediately and with great panic she called paramedics. when the operator picked up the phone, Jeanette was at a loss. She was a victim of a sexual assault? This couldn't be true as she knew she willingly euthanized a man, there was no assault upon herself beyond the initial shock of exposure. She pondered this as she stumbled over her words with the operator, she was attacked, no not attacked just harassed, but this was more than typical harassment so it must be some sort of an assault, if not on the person than on the moral fiber of her being!

The man continued to writhe on the ground, groaning softly as if he were trying to sing himself to sleep. The operator assured that paramedics would arrive shortly

[imafuckingtool No.2297827]

>>2297823

It was at this moment that the night took a turn, be it for the worse or better is still up to question. The man turned back towards the counter, bananas in hand, and swiftly unlocked the button binding his trenchcoat together. A limp, languid penis rolled out silently, sored by herpes or warts or something worse and overall misshapen, disfigured and abhorrent. Jeanette, a relatively introverted and rather conservative woman of a sexual age saw this display as nothing more than a pure offense on her own sexuality, a burning tongue against her own character. Revolted is too gentle a word, she was repulsed, horrified, at her roots disturbed by the genitals presented to her without notice. She remembered the purity of the overpriced Libby peaches in her hand, the weight of it, the certainty. She brought this certainty down upon his languid dick with the greatest force she could muster, hoping she would simply strike the event from existence.

[Anonymous No.2297834]

>the weird turn this story has taken

bueno.jpeg

[imafuckingtool No.2297835]

This seemingly small tragedy was simply too much for Jeanette to bear: she could understand striking out at a man, but to witness a coincidental tragedy offhand and enjoy it simply because it victimized someone she loathed? she felt disgusted with herself at the thought, and turned back to her cans of peaches. Libby never had to deal with flashing customers, she thought, and he never would have. Libby has had his fate written in peaches since before the day her, or him, or either of the paramedics were born.

[imafuckingtool No.2297832]

They arrived, sirens slowly bleeding in over the overtones of luck be a lady, eventually drowning out sinatra in their own aria of lament. Initially faceless Jeanette was intimidated, they asked dry questions without even concerning themselves with the extraordinary circumstances that surrounded this situation. The man was still breathing, she said. He had a proper pulse and his pupils were dilating and moving as they should, they said. He fell without struggle she said, and they concurred - no bones were broken, no muscles twisted, just a crushed manhood on a limp and degraded man. The paramedics softly lifted his legs and shoulders upon a gurney, hoping not to disturb any crushed arteries. With the patience of birdwatchers, they slowly edged him out of the bodega and into the street - it was only in the awkward light of a street corner that one paramedic said to the other: "I wonder if he managed to get off". This was too much for the other paramedic, Isaac, a young boy who while taking his job quite seriously, never felt dedicated enough to fully commit to med school. Isaac first chuckled subtly, then it grew as if of it's own, into an amusement that seemingly paralyzed him, tricked him into thinking all his movements for this man was as much of a joke as he was. Isaac dropped his end of the gurney as he chortled, bending over against his own will. The man rolled off, not unlike how his penis rolled onto the counter, onto the sidewalk with a nauseating crack. It was obvious that his ribs were now broken, simply a result from the unorthodox and irresponsible caretaking of these paramedics

[Anonymous No.2297836]

read it all bro, 10/10. thank you based god for blessing us with this story

[imafuckingtool No.2297843]

>>2297836
i'd love some critiques about my prose, i'm really trying to get into a style i can call my own for short stories - half the reason i crosspost on /mu/ is because of lyrical gods that seem to influence my writing style

[Anonymous No.2297845]

>>2297843
But /mu/ is filled with plebeians. What lyrical gods could yo be talking about?

[imafuckingtool No.2297847]

>>2297845
John Darnielle, Nick Cave mostly

Darnielle has a stronger influence on my sense of place than say, Steinbeck ever could. This is not to disparage Steinbeck, as he's one of my favorites. But Darnielles immediate sense of place that chokes out any other lyrical theme is simply breathtaking.

[imafuckingtool No.2297849]

>>2297847
imagine that post, except written by someone sober

[Anonymous No.2297850]

>posted this on mu and an anon got butthurt

He was curious as to why you posted something strictly /lit/ related on a board for music? My oh my you are a daft cunt
Also your writing reeks of tryhard and is boring as bats. Wouldn't read one more sentence. Also Kill yourself

[Anonymous No.2297851]

>>2297843
How can I critique what is already perfect?


Your story is actually perfect

[imafuckingtool No.2297855]

>>2297850
are you that anon from /mu/

i'm glad you have a strong opinion, can i ask what specifically you find boring as bats or tryhard? do you have those arguments available or was that something you constructed to make me feel bad?q

[imafuckingtool No.2297862]

>>2297851
i appreciate the praise but there is no prose that cannot improve, no sentence that cannot be written in a better structure. be nitpicky, i have run on lines and lots of unnecessary hyphens

[Anonymous No.2297863]

In all seriousness op, you may think to post this on /lit/. They are actually rather informative, and surprisingly keep on topic most of the time. Also they would love to rip your story a new asshole, which I am told is a good thing for a writer.

[Anonymous No.2297864]

>>2297850
someone sounds a little bitter. (not op but hard for me to respect anyone who is so vulgar about his dislike)

I liked it, didn't love it. A tad dry and point free, or maybe I just didn't understand it. Why peaches? seemed that was important but I don't get why.

[imafuckingtool No.2297869]

>>2297864
heh, someone asked me "the significance of peaches' on mu as well - frankly i was told this story second hand and the can of peaches was one detail that really stood out to me in the story (the dick smashing, the paramedics dropping the patient) is all true, just rewritten creatively

i like to have flash fiction without much of a point, I find it to be the most accurate representation of humanity

[Anonymous No.2297867]

>>2297843
>This neighborhood, though relatively new considering the disctrict, nurtured a claustrophobic atmosphere around it that seemed to bring out the most desperate in everyone passing through.
This sentence is a little ugly and has too much blatant exposition.

>but occasionally (and only when Jeanette felt rather free and uncontrollable) she'd allow herself to dance to the weak pop music playing through the PA
This is wonderful.

[imafuckingtool No.2297873]

>>2297867
that first paragraph is something i wrote ahead of time, i'm really glad to hear critiques on it, my first passages always highlight my worst writing traits. I had this feeling that that first passage was too wordy but I couldn't really put my tongue on what was missing and what was overzealous. Thanks for the dissection, it'll allow for a really good introspective session.

[Anonymous No.2297877]

>>2297862
>>2297862
Hold on, is this story autobiographical? Also, consider that I'm really high right now. Your story is wonderful and tight and life affirming and all that is good in the world.

[imafuckingtool No.2297881]

>>2297877
it's a secondhand story rewritten in my own eyes

i'm glad you like it

[Anonymous No.2297883]

>>2297877
should have read more of the thread. stoner

[Anonymous No.2297888]

>>2297855
No I am not. If you really want to know what I dislike about it:
-Your prose starts out expositional and, while I wouldn't exactly call it florid it's detailed and relatively interesting to read, revealing much at the very beginning then literally becomes weaker every sentence until the end where 'he got hit in the dik with peaches lol.'
The lack of dialogue in the story. Jeanette seems lifeless and faceless and like a mormon. Also anyone who is introverted tends to think far more fucked up things than this.

>like to have flash fiction without much of a point, I find it to be the most accurate representation of humanity
strait from the maw of any amateur writer

[Anonymous No.2297889]

>>2297883
>open hostility at a free choice
>virgin detected

[imafuckingtool No.2297892]

>>2297888
this is a really great informative post

i'm not even mad, i'm really happy you took the time to mention the things i was specifically bad at

thank you anon, i will remember these complaints when i write my next story (or if i write this currrent one)

[Anonymous No.2297893]

>>2297889
Cyberlashing cyberout at random cyberstrangers is a great way to relieve stress, make money from home, and increase productivity; why don't you try it right nooooooooowwww!

[imafuckingtool No.2297894]

>>2297892
admittedly, Jeanette was never meant to be an introvert, she is more meant to be an everywoman- these two roles are easily confused however, and result in entirely different perspectives of context.

[Anonymous No.2297896]

>>21922091

[imafuckingtool No.2297909]

ayn rand > james joyce

discuss using my flash fiction as evidence

[Anonymous No.2297910]

>>2297892
welcome. Also I was from /mu/, I never make threads, and thanks for derailing my one thread to get some recomendations. You couldve started a goddam new fucking thread

[Anonymous No.2297914]

>>2297909
>>2297909

Your writing sucks.

Ayn Rand sucks.

[imafuckingtool No.2297915]

>>2297910
dealwithit.jpg

your thread was probably not worth keeping, if i were to derail it with flash fiction

if there is something specific you're looking for i'd love to put effort into it, despite me enjoying pasting this link that has nothing to do with you

www.mediafire.com/?yxn10znmrgg

[imafuckingtool No.2297916]

>>2297914
not picking up on obvious trolls

[Anonymous No.2297927]

>>2297915
>dealwithit
so basically, you're a cunt and you're find with that. No reason you couldn't have started a new thread

[imafuckingtool No.2297947]

>>2297927
no reason i couldn't, no reason for me to do that

[imafuckingtool No.2298217]

>>2297947
that feel when someone sages on your behalf