The sun gleamed off the aircraft’s metallic underside. He could feel it radiating heat. His distorted reflection stared back, facial features recognisable, but askew. For a moment, his mirror-image appeared to smile, though he did not. He slowly reached out. He hoped the thin veil that separates this world from the one so often reflected … Continue reading Tarmac Trepidation
A bit of Flash Fiction.
Terror on the Tarmac
by Rob Knipe
The sun gleamed off the aircraft’s metallic underside. He could feel it radiating heat. His distorted reflection stared back, facial features recognisable, but askew. For a moment, his mirror-image appeared to smile, though he did not. He slowly reached out.
He hoped the thin veil that separates this world from the one so often reflected would hold out.
His hand inched closer to the fuselage.
Despite the heat, the metal surface was cold, and the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. The fingers of his image intertwined with his own and held him fast. He was being gently pulled.
The voice faded almost as soon as it began, whispered through an unseen mouth, from an unknown being.
His likeness’s expression remained passive as black tendrils grew from the edge of its face, spreading out until it was surrounded by…
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Totally stoked, thank you so much! 🙂
Good morning, friends. Sorry again about the error with the photo this past weekend. I do my best to mark them with the round they’ve been used for, but occasionally one slips thru the cracks. Thanks to my astute writers who recognized the familiar prompt. Thanks also to CR Smith for judging the stories this weekend. You’ll find her comments and top picks below.
I’ve spent a very pleasant afternoon reading all the entries and — let’s face it — they’re all outstanding, which makes choosing a winner all the more difficult; there really isn’t much between them. But a Flash Master must be crowned, so, before I get down to it, here’s a selection of my favourite lines.
Formaldehyde: The nursing home is a carapace of thoughts and cobwebbed memories; the rocking-chairs and statuesque invisible once-young.
Ongar-Bongar Cheese: …which led to acting-Factory Manager Ted Eagle’s concussion, memory loss and subsequent…
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Bit of Flash Fiction fun for the weekend?
Hello again, writers! Your intrepid hostess is on a mission to find a new home this upcoming week, and your photo prompt is a prediction of just what it may look like. Our judge this weekend is CR Smith.
*Edit – new photo posted at 11:00 am. Somehow the original photo didn’t get tagged as previously used. Thanks to those who brought it to my attention.*
Before we get started, here’s a brief reminder of the rules.
Deadline: Sunday at 6:00pm MST. You all have 36 hours to create your best work of up to 360 words (exclusive of title) and post it into the comments below. Please include your word count (required) and Twitter handle if applicable. For complete rules, click here.
The winning author and their story will be featured as Wednesday’s Hump-Day Quickie, receive a winner’s page, and be crowned Flash Master of the Week.
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Top post about the Anthology we’re in.
I’ve just had another story published in ‘Drainpipes for Strike Posts’ by Mantic Games, featuring such literary greats as David Guymer, Guy Francis Haley, and that Rob Knipe guy that keeps following me around.
The story is called ‘The Price of Success’, and it’s a suitably grimdark tale about what happens if you get too big for your own boots.
A DreadBall Xtreme Anthology
We’ve all watched pro-wrestling at some point.
Even if we don’t openly admit it, at some point or another we have sat and watched those big, oiled-up men in their costumes and carrying their gimmicks and their ‘steel chairs’, putting each other through the ‘Spanish Announcer’s table’ (why always the poor Spanish?) and whether it’s been a guilty pleasure or just something we’ve happened upon, we’ve all had some flavour of the same thought: ‘It’s all very fake.’
Dig a little deeper…
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For me, this summer has been quite unlike any other I've had. In summer's gone by I've had extended holidays courtesy of the army, spent one summer locked in the loft writing A Game of Two Halves, pointing brickwork, drinking too much, going to bike rallies, short holidays, but this year was altogether different. 'How … Continue reading Over the summer – a tale of bruising, wrist injury and accidental checking.
Well, after a brief spell away from Lovecraft, I decided to return to something Lovecraftian. I missed the tentacles and the terror, and the feeling at the end of the tale that something odd is just out of sight. Monsters is a great listen, rather than being a collection of Lovecraft's stories, it's a collection … Continue reading Lovecraft’s Monsters – Various Authors, Audible
I read the book of this years ago, and still have the copy of it on my small bookcase at home. Don't be unnerved that I have a small book case, I have tonnes of books, but they're in piles, on shelves, in boxes, so that one day, when I have a library room they … Continue reading A Scanner Darkly, by Philip K. Dick – Audible review
Dune. If I can recall every memory from the film, it is limited to Sting in a funky still suit, and some chap riding a worm. The novel, when I've tried to read it in the past, didn't grip me straight away, and so I resigned from reading it. Instead, I listened to it. Audible, … Continue reading Dune, by Frank Herbert – Audible Review
In 1998 I had the pleasure of travelling to Minnesota with members of the 5/8 Kings Regiment, 4 QLR, and a few from my very own V (the Liverpool Scottish) Company, to train with the Ohio National Guard in Camp Ripley Minnesota. It was part of an exchange programme, where an equal number of their … Continue reading Ice Hockey and me