Today's #flashfiction The Duel For The Dragon's Blood

“It was a dark and stormy night.”

Dr. Suess* #quote

        Today I'm going to the movies to see Tomorrowland. Which means I'm definitely going to have to wait and see the prequel Yesterdayland to get the whole story. Also Jessica's coming over, so that ought to be a TNT powered blast o' fun. Anyway onto the flash fiction!

The Duel For the Dragon's Blood

         “So how many times has been Merlin? Battle 50 somethin'.” I laughed while the wizard chased me on his pegasus. Did he really think that winged horse could catch up to me in the clouds? This is my domain. After all I am a dragon.

          “You beast! I will have your blood!” The wizard shot lightining from his staff. I admit the thing looked impressive when it glowed. But the lightning merely went straight to my horns atop my head. All my life I thanked my ancestors for evolving those enchanted horns to divert lighting from both storm clouds and pesky wizards. If I didn't have them his little plan to roast my wings may have worked.

           “Y'know I thought a wizard of your caliber would know about our horns.” I then thought for a moment and smiled with my sharp teeth. “Hey didn't you try that last time you chased me in the sky. I like the Pegasus though. Before you've been using griffons and magic carpets.”

Merlin grew agitated. Just like he did every time. “Stop your banter monster! Every single one of these battles would come to an end if you just let me catch you.”

            “No!” I yelled at him. “You will not jab that thing into my flesh! I will not suffer that kind of pain.”

             His face grew red. “How could a dragon be so pathetic? I've been shooting lighting at you and you're afraid of that?”

              I stopped in the air. I wouldn't take him downplaying this. “Lighting is nothing. That thing is sharp.”

              Merlin growled. “It's a shot! It's just a shot!”

              “I hate shots!” I shouted back.

              “It'll only take five seconds!”

              “No!”

              “You baby!”

              “Bully!”

              “We're testing you for demon worms!”

              “I'd rather have them then a shot!”

              “I already told you the reason you're afraid of them is because the last one you had was when you were two. You're grown now. Take your shot! We wouldn't be having this problem if you hadn't eaten that elder demon like I told you not to.”

                “It was going to kill you.”

                “I could have handled it.”

                “You lost your staff.”

                “Just take the shot!”

                “Hold on, will I get a lollipop when it's over like when I was two?”

                “Wait what? Oh, yes, yes, you will definitely get a lollipop when it's done. In fact you can have as many lollipops as you want when it's done!”

                “Okay I'll get the shot.”

               So after the exchange I got the shot...it wasn't as bad as when I was two...and I got two thousand lollipops! Yay! I think Merlin mentioned something about wanting a dog though. I wouldn't mind another pet around the house.  

Today's #flashfiction Mind Surgery

“To be or not to be, that is the question.”

Alex Trebek* #quote

Today I went to my card game thing and much fun was had. Anyway onto the flash fiction!

Mind Surgery

         I've often wondered what human sleep was like. Did humans observe their minds in sleep like we robots do? I know we both work with our memories and minds in a “subconscious state”. But I feel very aware in my sleep as I float like a ghost, limbless, in a white infinity where I see the white replaced with things from my mind as I analyze and record them for permanent memory and reorganization in my mechanical brain. Maybe I've just been trying to find out what human dreams compare to my own.

       A gigantic skateboard appeared below. I loved skateboards. They built me as an advanced model with a body capable of using skateboards and I did all kinds of tricks. I even requested that I have one with my name “Benjamin” put on it along with an edgy design. Something strange then happened. Large latex gloves appeared in my dreams with a scalpel and began to cut up the board. What on Earth did that represent? The gloves dropped the scalpel then sculpted and put together the skateboard into the shape of a surfboard and pulled off the wheels.

       One of my favorite things is surfing. I once even requested that I have one with my name “Benjamin” put on it along with an edgy design. What's with those strange gloves? Oh, they're gone. Human dreams can be strange, robot dreams must be the same too.

       Oh! A vision of my room. My programmers let me keep all sorts of nice things as decorations, they like seeing my tastes as one of the intelligent A.I.s. All my posters and everything I choose to put in there. And I even keep a name tag on the door. “Kyle” posted there right in big font so people can tell me from the other machines. Strange, I thought I saw those strange gloves around here again. Must be a recurring dream thing, I read about those.

      Next I saw my best friend Ashley, a human programmer who spent her time with me. One of the staff of the facility. Yup, Carol spent years of time hanging out with me. The programmers hooked me up to the machine at the end of the night so I could charge up and dream. They always looked over me with a smile and a diagnostic laptop just in case there's something wrong with my memory.

      Gloves? No, I haven't seen anything weird in my dream, just the usual strange white abyss with things from my memories popping up.  

Today's #flashfiction The Game Of Masks

“My spider sense is tingling.”

Shelob* #quote

Tomorrow I'm headed out to my card game thing and the to da movies with da family so I think it will be a day of fun. Anyway onto the flash fiction!

The Game Of Masks

          When someone played poker they played the odds. Whenever someone played a game they encountered skill primarily in two places, card counting and bluffing. Tonight my game took place at a costume party, and every participant wore a mask. I noticed people attempted to convey their “emotions” with body language and finger tapping. All the motions only looked awkward throughout the night, and as the pot grew bigger it was obvious that everyone was used to predicting people based on their facial expressions. I was losing in cash and I needed a big win to pull home a profitable night. I needed to come up with a mind game. I always used reading people to win, I never calculated odds well as I didn't have a good memory with what already came out from the deck. I lost the next hand while trying to think of a trick to use. My bluff for this game of masks.

          “I'm holding four aces and a nine,” I told them all. The truth. I decided not to bluff, pretend I counted the cards well enough to do an actual bluff. Or not a bluff. I'd let the others at the table decide what my mind game meant. They turned their heads to me. I couldn't see their faces. But my wasn't perfect, nor was it poor. If I gave myself a perfect hand, they might call it. A poor hand they might call. But my real hand left them guessing the truth. Good enough to be scary, perfect enough not to be obviously fake. And since it was my real hand, it wouldn't be contradicted by any of the cards in their hands.

          One by one they folded out of the game and left me the pot. It looked like in the game of masks honesty was the best policy.  

Today's #flashfiction Nikki Nickel

“Don't let others tell you what to do.”

Simon* #quote

         Jessica may be coming over this weekend so that may lead to a barrel full of fun, which is more than a carton but not quite as much as a crate. Well, actually knowing us it could be quite the big barrel. Seizures were down today, and that was very pleasant, I'm hoping this persists through the weekend. Anyway onto the flash fiction!

Nikki Nickel

        I don't know how long I've been laying on this sidewalk. At least a few years I think. The cars keep their same patterns of how they move on the street but I've seen models change as time goes by. The tree by the corner dropped its leaves many times and there's been cold snow and harsh sunlight. A big change came when the burger joint at the edge of my vision was replaced by a grocery store.

When the rain comes I always fear being washed away into the gutter because then I'd never be picked up. To feel the warm hands of a person and nestled into the cozy home of a wallet or purse.              That's the life for a coin like me. A lost nickel like me can dream though.

         Then coarse, dirty hands rubbed all over me. “It's my lucky day! Just enough!” yelled a thick bearded homeless man as he picked me up. He mixed me with some other change and dashed over to a vending machine and dropped us in. The cold darkness of the vending machine surrounded me and I heard the thunk, clonk and thud of a soda dropping down.

        The room lost most concepts of time for me, as the only thing I could see was the small glimmer of movement of the Sun from the slot that we all fell from. I think three days passed in the machine. I wanted to talk to the other coins around me, but several shouted strange things, most of them being very young coins. Being minted recently the world was a new place and something like darkness and cold was new to them. One old coin refused to talk. Minted in the forties I wanted to hear the stories he could tell.

        When I left the machine as change I entered the hand of a man in a collared shirt. He reeked of fancy wine and must have ditched his suit in whatever fancy car he rode in. I plopped into his wallet. A much more comfortable resting place. I felt quite satisfied. In the man's wallet I became acquainted with several credit cards and the dollars that passed in and out. One day he stuffed in many hundred dollar bills and several other coins.

          When he pulled us all out I saw a smiling man holding an antique. The composure on the smiling man's body made it apparent that he was salesman, but we stood in an alleyway not a shop. My previous owner shoved me at the smiling man and took the antique.

           “Pleasure doing business with you Sir,” the smiling man said as he counted us. “Exact value. And an appraiser such as yourself knows how legitimate my wares are. Just do make sure nobody else knows you have it, we wouldn't want the museum calling the police. That'd be bad for you and my business.”

          The smiling man put me and my friends in his wallet, and soon onto the counter of his home. He told his wife it was for groceries. His wife took us and left. During her drive she stopped at a hotel, she took me and a few of us out, leaving the other half in the purse.

          She walked up to the man there and handed me along with the others coins and the bills to him.           “Hey, its good to see you again. I'll pay the rest later. I have to do the shopping for my husband.”

           When the man started to escort her to the hotel he accidentally dropped me on the sidewalk while I watched all the other bills and coins remain in his hand. I stared into the sky again. I wondered how long I would be here this time?

Today's #flashfiction Broadcasting To You Alive

“No one ever changes.”

Optimus Prime* #quote

Today I met a man who once boarded a plane. I asked him how the plane could take off he boarded it all up? Anyway onto the flash fiction!

Broadcasting To You Alive

        Raymond looked out the window of the radio station at his farm. He didn't own the farm by buying it, he inherited it, and all the other farms around it when their original owners died. Before he took the farms over he didn't pay much attention to them, he just traveled to work each day to host the radio's shows and play its songs. But now with his house rubble, and no one else around, he only called this place home.

       After the demolition of his city by missiles from one nation or another in this new World War he thanked God for what he thought was misfortune that his grandparents got him a set of farming documentaries to watch for Christmas one year and he was forced to watch and talk about them for hours.

      He broadcast a song as the station continued to operate off of solar panels he stole from a house. His uncles taught him about that. As the song played he started to think about all the little things that helped him survive and where he picked them up from.

      The nukes didn't hit his city, only the smaller missiles so he hoped other survivors managed in areas weren't saturated by radiation. He spent his days using his radio listening for broadcasts from others, and sending out messages of his own, songs and other things. Whenever a pleasant thought entered his mind he shared it, no matter how rare they came in those times, to the listeners he hoped existed.  

Today's #flashfiction Earth Invasion Plan

“A man is judged by the company he keeps.”

Jerry Springer* #quote

Today I met Anubis. He's a really judgemental guy. Anyway onto the flash fiction!

Earth Invasion Plan

Step 1: Arm spaceships

Step 2: Survey planet for landing point

Step 3: Enter atmosphere

Step 4: Land on surface.

Step 5: Deploy army.

Step 6: Deploy airforce.

Step 7: See human counterattack.

Step 8: Counter their counterattack.

Step 9: Fail, then send more support.

Step 10: Fail again, then um, send for backup?

Step 11: Receive word from home that no forces are available.

Step 12: Uh-oh, so, should I, no wait, they've got all those angles covered.

Step 13: Realize I'm way in over my head.

Step 14: Tactical retreat.

Step 15: They cut me off. Okay, I can salvage this. Maybe if I...deploy the, no that won't work...

Step 16: Get captured.

Step 17: Hey, the cell at this “Area 51” holding facility of theirs is surprisingly roomy!

Today's #flashfiction The Knight And The Bouncer

“Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears!”

Mike Tyson* #quote

Today I went over to my Grandma's house and played Scrabble with her. Much fun was had and it got me thinking about Words With Friends. I wonder if it's made by the same the people or how the makers of the program had to do things to make it “legally distinct” as a game. Maybe I'll look it up some time. Anyway onto the flash fiction!

The Knight And The Bouncer

       “I will get into that ball,” the Sir Ronald. His armor didn't fit his title of knight. He bought it at the cheapest places possible. Sure he managed to get through all the training and advance from being a squire, but really he didn't have the money to be a knight. He only managed to get into the discipline because his teacher saw potential in him. To make his life as a knight even more impossible when he went to a wizard to get a prediction to whom he was destined to serve he was pointed in the direction of Princess Alion, one of the royals of the highest orders. With the papers given to him by the wizard he could present them to the princess and get his job, but the problem presented itself of getting to her.

        A dragon prevented passage into the castle where she was.

       “I don't care what papers you have,” The dragon kicked the ground with large thumps coming from each feet, as large as Sir Ronald. “If you aren't on the list you aren't getting in.” The dragon's rust colored scales looked very similar to Ronald's shoddy armor.

Ronald pulled out his sword, the only decent piece of equipment he had. It shone with an intimidating shine. “Get out of my way, my destiny awaits.” His master gave him the sword, so at least he didn't have to buy a terrible weapon.

       The dragon swung his massive tail and bashed Sir Ronald in the side, his pathetic armor crumpling inward with the force of the swing. The dragon snorted. “Leave.”

There went his arm and his savings. Fortunately the dragon hit him on his right side and he held the blade in his dominate left hand. But still, if the dragon could manage that so easily, how could he possibly get in?

       He ran at the dragons neck, with his sword primed for a fatal blow and he made sure the dragon saw. The dragon dodged. Sir Ronald managed to get through the training to become a knight despite his low status, and could have tried for another blow at the dragon. After the dodge it still seemed exposed. But he kept running into the castle. He kept his eye on the real prize, working for Princess Alion and avoided the fire breath that scorched the ground behind him.

Today's #flashfiction Meowser And Fluffy

“There's something in my eye.”

Inspector Gadget* #quote

Today I ran across a wishing well. It kept wishing, saying things like “I wish for a pony...I wish for a house...I wish for a reindeer...” It just kept ramblin' and ramblin', wishing and wishing. Maybe if it had a birthday or something it'd get at least one of those wishes granted. Poor wishing well wishing all those wishes. Anyway onto the flash fiction!

Meowser And Fluffy

       Meowser laid on his warm bed next to the wall. An old white cat he didn't care much for moving or noise. His primary activities involved sleeping and watching everyone if he cared to do it. Normally noise remained at tolerable levels all the time. Until they got him. That little brown nuisance.

       They called him Fluffy. They gave the runt a bed right next to his own but the new kitten enjoyed moving around causing a ruckus and the humans enjoyed playing with him in the loudest of manners. Making all sorts of obnoxiously loud cutesy noises. They brought over more humans to see Fluffy. And the clawing. The humans bought a new scratching post and when the new pest clawed away at it the sound worked its way right into Meowser's head and bounced around again and again grinding against his brain. He wondered how he could have possibly not been this annoyed at his own scratching. He wanted to hiss at the new nuisance at his life and make it run away. But he felt way too old for that.

      Then one day Fluffy decided to lie up against Meowser in his bed and fall asleep. Quiet. Fluffy gently slept with slow, gentle silent breaths. Meowser looked at the kitten and thought of either clawing or hissing at the nuisance in his life. But then he just fell asleep. He decided that the kid will learn to be quiet sooner or later and it'd be too much effort to shut him up. Now if the humans get a dog there will be hell to pay.  

Today's #flashfiction Ghost Of The Gallery

“Color inside the lines.”

Jackson Pollock* #quote

Remember, when you see a falling star catch it so it doesn't get hurt. Anyway onto the flash fiction!

Ghost Of The Gallery

           Underpaid, overpaid, just right. Fake. Fake. I appraised each piece of the gallery with a simple glance. I'd been haunting the gallery for one hundred years and seen enough pieces sell to figure out buying habits of people to give a true appraisal for each work of art. There always existed the rule that something really is worth only what someone is willing to pay for it, but I've seen enough to know what most people will pour their money out for. It helps when an auction house took residence inside the art gallery.

          I couldn't see myself in any mirror but by looking down I saw body existed as a pitiful, thin, fog. My mind sometimes felt the same. I tried to retain the social aspect of being a person by I even pretending to part of conversations with the living. I've fooled myself enough it works to some degree. I've always wondered what kind of unfinished business I could have in this art gallery. After one hundred years what could I have not seen?

         I saw the manager of the auction house holding a painting, talking to the owner of the gallery.

         “What's that?” The owner asked.

         The auction house manager replied, “Some lost inventory apparently. It was wrapped up good, but mislabeled so it was never pulled out to be auctioned. I really have no idea how long its been there. I wanted to ask you before opening it.”

         The owner replied, “Well, if it isn't labeled right then I guess that's the only thing we can do.”

They unwrapped the painting. I looked at the painting. The artist painted it with great skill. A generic landscape though. Unless it's a well known name I don't think it'll be very valuable besides its age. Whatever that was.

        The auction house manager looked at the name, “I'll be damned, this was made by Richter Uwelon”

         “Richter Uwelon? I didn't think the founder of this gallery painted, I thought just appraised art. Didn't know he painted so well. Or wanted to sell it.” The owner rubbed his chin in thought.

The auction house manager then said, “So I guess you're going to give it his family or put this in the lobby as something made by the founder?”

        “No, he doesn't have any living descendants. If the painting was there in inventory to be auctioned that's what he wanted. The money can go to one of the twenty charities Richter started all those years ago.”

        Richter Uwelon. That was my name. I hadn't thought about my name in one hundred years. You didn't need a name when you're a ghost. And now a strange happy feeling filled my gut. Or whatever form of gut my ghostly body possessed. I knew now someone else would know of my art, and now I began to move on.

Today's #flashfiction The Dream Games

“Build a better mousetrap and the world will beat a path to your door.”

Walt Disney* #quote

Tomorrow I'll be hanging with CJ and Jessica, anyway onto the flash fiction!

The Dream Games

        The Red Team and Blue Team mixed each of their subconciousnesses at the start of their slumber an hour ago. The game took breaks when their brains exited the dreaming part of sleep and resumed when they returned. Dream Games served as one of the world's top forms of entertainment, the sport one of the many new results of Mind Technology. All dreaming in the Dream Games was lucid, everyone knew they dreamed and worked towards one toward one goal: To wake up the other team.

        In such a lucid state of dreaming people controlled the reality around them and moved it to their will, and the best way to wake someone involved scaring them. Attack them with their fears and force them to awake in a sweat. Though technically illegal, the most common practice in the Dream Game leagues outside the actual game play involved researching the opposing team, investigating them to the point of invading their privacy to find out their greatest fears.

        The Red Team, known as the Sandmen, mastered this tactic. The ten players worked out during the day to make themselves large and intimidating in the real world to spook the opposition ahead of time, while their coach Miss Ivory spent her time finding out the fears of the team with her spys and own handiwork to find out what forms the Sandmen should turn into during the Game.

        The Blue Team mastered none of this. Both teams played in college Dream Games, and their college, a small humble one just managed to get the equipment and registration to participate in the Dream Games. So when The Naps were being struck down with five of ten players remaining and the Sandmen without having lost one, nobody felt surprised.

       Without knowing any fears the teams tried other tactics, creating alarm clocks, but this even woke up one of their own members. Their coach, Howsen watched the game through Dreamvision depressed. He couldn't stand it, he couldn't even help. Could one of the team members have one “clever idea” to create some sort of underdog moment?

      The one remaining Nap stood in the middle of the Dream Arena surrounded by the Sandmen. They laughed at him. The largest one, in the form of a spider with three heads said, “I have to say this was one of the easiest matches we've ever had.”

The member replied, “Too bad it's all been a dream.”

       The rest of the Naps returned, the Sandmen lost their forms and appeared back in the Dream Arena at its blank state, as if they never started playing, except they all laid in beds while the Naps stood over them.

       Another commented, “All along you knew none of our fears, now what are you going to do?” The Sandmen awoke, struck with the most intense fear now that their weapons, their crutch in combat, were taken. In truth the Naps still only had one member in the dream, but with all his energy he made it seem like there could be a dream in a dream and all the rest of members returned. Nothing quite like a bluff.  

Today's #flashfiction Cody The Time Surfer

“It's not all fun and games.”

The Parker Brothers* #quote

Today I wondered, if people can turn over new leaves, can they turn over old ones?

Cody The Time Surfer

       “This is bogus!” Cody the time surfer yelled. Benjamin Franklin and Genghis Khan melded into one bizarre man in a fur suit wearing a monocle and holding an axe. The waves of time climbed into the sky as a wave, their form similar to water but with fragments of time flowing below the surface like worn photographs. A ocean of time existed below and in the sky clouds to rain back into the ocean below.

        Benja-Khan attacked Cody, gliding on the waters of time with his feet like a skater on ice and swinging an axe with great force. Cody rode his glistening, white time board knowing all the risks of riding time. Echoes of time tended to erupt from the waves, they would fall back down and lose their form. But for now Cody had to reach into one of the pockets on his white time suit and pull out the small knife he carried. A special kind of knife it could cut through all matter of things, the anomalies of time or otherwise. When the axe came close he grabbed it and Benja-Khan flew onto his board. He stabbed the creature that then shattered like glass as it destablized. Cody didn't lose his life, but the axe's sharp blade tapped his smooth tan skin and black hair, leaving small cuts in both.

       He looked at a small device on his wrist. If someone took a passing glance they would mistake it for a watch. However it held many meters and gauges and served to navigated the tides and the surf of time. When they all read exactly as they needed too, he pushed his board downward with his feet and into the wave. He'd practice years to conquer this wave and reach this time. Time became jumbled when it entered the strange ocean dimension that people managed to access, so times and their places could be found on very unrelated parts of the wave.

      Cody sunk into that wonderful evening. That day when him and his wife did nothing but spend time together watching their favorite movies on the couch from morning till night. The best kind of marathon. Like a ghost he moved through the walls on his surfboard and joined the him of that time and his wife and spent the day with them. He couldn't interact with either of them since the ocean of time and all its waves are merely recreations time and its possibilities, and not truly time travel even when entered. But even then he ignored the other him and laughed with her as if she were still alive in his own present time.  

Today's #flashfiction Susie And Her Clock

“I'm having a whale of a time.”

Jonah* #quote

Today I counted my chickens before they hatched. Turned out to be negative twelve. Anyway onto the flash fiction!

Susie And Her Clock

       Little baby Susie stared at the clock on the wall. A cute little cat clock it ticked the seconds regularly. Only three months old her fascination of the world led her to crawl towards the end of the crib to listen to and watch the clock. To a baby the world meant a confusing barrage of information to absorb as reality came into being. The clock plugged into the wall so it never stopped and served as a universal constant in Susie's life. Even more than her own body as she grew hair on her little head the clock remained unchanged.

        When her parents tried to replace the clock she cried, so they left it there for years to come, to the point of her being a toddler and the parents not even remembering why they never replaced the clock. Susie still felt attached to the clock, but she couldn't place why, and she didn't let her parents replace it.

         The years went past even more and even in high school the clock ticked and ticked. A rather stubborn thing. Susie, now called nothing but Susan, replaced the batteries and some other parts from time to time.

         She carried it with her to college and then to own home after that. She changed her furniture frequently except for that little clock. When her husband asked her why she kept the clock she looked at it and searched her brain for an answer. She worked hard and dug deep to find one.

         “I've heard that clock so long memories through my whole life are linked to that ticking noise. I'm reminded of summers, winters, rainy days, sunny days, happy days and sad days.”

Susan then wondered if anyone else had their own kinds of clocks.

Today's #flashfiction Triangles Of Hell

“Answer me these questions three...”

Alex Trebek* #quote

Today I stared in the depths of space and found a cookie. Anyway onto the flash fiction!

Triangles Of Hell

         Between each of the Circles of Hell there are many Squares of Hell. And between the Squares of Hell there are the Triangles of Hell. I, Zok The Unimportant, live in one of those Triangles. They've never been bad places to live. Well for us demons, as was the rule for every bit of Hell. Humans resided in the Circles, but other creatures resided in the other shapes of Hell. Between the Triangles lay even more parts of Hell, but I live where the souls of plants are prosecuted for their sins.

        I don't know what happens in the other Circles too much. I think when demons give enough punishment a soul may move on to be altered anew. I wasn't important enough for the head demons to tell me how God, ran the endgame. All I knew was the day to day of my life. I prosecuted the plants for their sins. Right now I watched over a field of roses, or rather their souls. Now they felt more than they did when in their mortal form.

         They told me my job, to trim them with various tools based on the daily orders. After awhile the souls vanished. I didn't quite understand what soul roses could commit. Did pricking a finger count as a sin, even though it merely was self defense?

           One rose didn't have any thorns. With that I couldn't even think of what sin it could commit. I didn't harm it, even though my job told me to. When I finished my rounds my boss appeared, another demon with the same red scales and curly horns that I had, but with a fine suit. He took out a club and hit me across the face. A right he possessed in the Triangles of Hell, or any other part.

          “You missed one,” he told me. He turned around. He did notice that I didn't damage the thornless rose. The club he hit me with shattered bones, but my demonic body recovered quickly and painfully. With a blow that strong I knew he wouldn't check again to see if I got it. From then on I wondered if I did make the right decision in judging the soul myself.   

Today's #flashfiction The Birth Of A Character

“The one ring to rule them all.”

Kay Jewelers* #quote

I'll be hanging with both CJ and Jessica this weekend so that'll be fun. Anyway onto the flash fiction!

The Birth Of A Character

       Some writer in some house sits in front of some keyboard and brainstorms some story of theirs. But not even a protagonist existed for the story. So now the writer had to invent and form a character in his mind.

        First the character existed just as a name. Carl. First thing that popped into the brain.

Carl transformed into Jason and the outline of body appeared. Like a ghost made of black mist.

The black mist turned into the vague form of a teenager. The author thought to make the character ascend to full adulthood as he went through his story. At that time the author went through another name change to John.

         For want of a stronger character to fight the boy became a knight and aged instead. His body became defined as a suit of glistening armor. His name went back to Jason. And it went from a tale of coming of age to a story of revenge.

        A desire to pit magic against magic in the story entered the writer's mind and the character kept the same story of revenge and went from being a knight to being a wizard who would face off against another wizard.

       The writer than thought about a time when he heard about writer's who based characters off people they knew. In that moment the character Jason became Caroline and partially based off his younger sister Carol.

      His sister owned a little cat named Bobbie and that soon became the character's pet dragon named Scalie, the only surviving member of the family that the necromancer killed.

      And after a few more nuances of the character were decided it went on to defeat the evil wizard and save the kingdom along with avenging its family.

Today's #flashfiction Yasuhide's Home

“I'm going out on a limb here.”

Treebeard* #quote

Today Jessica will be over and hopefully there won't be any walruses getting in the way of our elaborate plans again. Anyway onto the flash fiction!

Yasuhide's Home

         Yasuhide ordered his family inside their small home while he took off the large, wide hat that shaded his head from the Sun and hid it in the bushes so that no samurai or their soldiers would find it. Retreating into the home became habit for the family, and was practiced like a fire drill in modern times. Yasuhide's family lived behind two tall hills, along with their farm and family. Just enough to conceal them, but not enough to raise suspicion. At least, unless anyone from the battles next to the river and large mountains nearby. People fought over the river and the strategic position in between the mountains. They didn't care for the hills, since they didn't know farmland existed there.

       Yasuhide's family managed to live there, avoiding having to be serfs under a lord for generations by hiding behind the hills. The lords battled for the nearby space in the mountain and he aimed to keep it that way. Yasuhide wore comfortable cloth sown together of many different patterns. With the many battles his lineage managed to grab a few things here and there when nobody was looking. Over time they've taken apart materials from several people's clothes, even fallen lords, to make practical yet beautiful farming clothing.

        And this day was one of many where Yasuhide hid. The battle happened, he heard the screams and shouts of war. The clashing of weapons. The battle took several waves. The battle lasted three days as both sides took defensive positions and threw out their soldiers in calculated ways. Eventually something happened that never happened before. Yasuhide stepped outside his home on the morning of one day to find a man near the entrance. The samurai went from stumbling to crawling and could only mumble unintelligibly at Yasuhide.

       Yasuhide knew he could help this man. Pull the unknown samurai into home, shelter him, bandage him and most likely save his life. But what of the consequences? A samurai serves his lord and Yasuhide's family would soon lose their luck of being an unknown spot on the map away from all the conflict and ownership of the lords. His family and every generation going forward belonged to that lord as the samurai would most likely report Yasuhide as another peasant to be under his lord's command.

       Yasuhide took the samurai's blade, kicked the samurai over so that he faced the sky and plunged the sword into his face. Yasuhide found this to be a better way to have the man die than letting him painfully continue to bleed out to death. The farmer then picked up the samurai's body, draped it over his shoulder and dragged it far away from his home. With the warrior's death he knew his family was safe in isolation once again.

Today's #flashfiction The Birds And The Gears

“Put your money where your mouth is.”

Mr. Potato Head* #quote

Today I went to my trading card game thing, and tomorrow Jessica's coming over so it looks like my weekend is going to be full of fun shenanigans. Anyway onto the flash fiction!

The Birds And The Gears

          One day a young little robot asked his parents where baby robots came from. The parents didn't want to explain the robot child factory and upgrades all robots go through at each stage of maturity, that would be the worst kind of awkward. (parent robots watch over and raise young robots but don't physically create them). So the father did the first thing he could think of.

         “Well son, see there's a bunch of fairies in a magical land in the North.”

         “Fairies.”

         “Yes, and they put all their fairy dust on all the metal we're made out of and it turns into us.”

         “Fairy dust.”

         “Of course! Then they all work together using their magic to fly you to us for us to raise you.”

         “You just made that up.”

         The mother robot glared at the father robot and he responded to her, “Oh like you could have made up anything better in two seconds!”

Today's #flashfiction Five Clues!?

“You can't escape the facts.”

Harry Houdini* #quote

Today my Grandma came over for a visit and much fun was had, seizures were down as well so that made the day even better. Anyway onto the flash fiction!

Five Clues!?

         Barry rolled the dice and moved his game piece across the spaces. He picked up the card from the stack that matched the color of the space and by giving five single-word clues tried to get his team to guess what was written on the card. He tended to always give the best clues and get the most points. He'd seen every single card a thousand times over, and they had to make new cards sometimes since they'd play the game so much. Him so much more. The game, “Five Clues!?”, had tattered edges on its cardboard and the box, despite the care given to it, got some heavy bangs over the years.          Barry remembered the times he played it in his youth, long before white hairs covered his head. And he wondered why, after so many years, he still played this dumb, old game with his family.

He looked around and saw all the smiles when his team scored a point, and the rest of the family eager for their turn, and he remembered why. Did his grandfather play the game with him for all the smiles? And how many generations of the family would play for all the smiles, no matter how repetitive the game got?

Today's #flashfiction When The Star Fell

“Road trip!”

Frodo Baggins* #quote

Jessica's comin' on over this weekend. In other news the robot-alien-bunny spy in the NSA has been discovered so we can all rest easy.

When The Star Fell

        Famed actor Dennis Kenner lived a high life with a big mansion atop a high hill in the upper of upper class areas. With all the riches in the world he walked around his house and looked at the sprawling city sipping wine straight out of the bottle with his expensive robe on that was expensive merely from the brand, not from the fabric. But when he merrily plopped on foot the wrong way on his stairs, in a million-to-one chance, he tripped and rolled down the massive spiral staircase of his extravagant home.

         When he fell to the bottom, all bunched up in a strange shape he called out the first name he could think of, “Ted!” His old roommate when he was in a more humble home. He didn't know the names of any of his hired help, if they were even there. Were they? He didn't even remember if anyone was scheduled to work that day. He didn't carry a cellphone since he made no point to have bothersome calls. He remembered another rich actor, who always jabbered on his phone, with his wife, like they were still high school kids or something, even though they'd been married for years. What he'd do for his phone.

        The star pulled his body, all distorted and broken, while he screamed for help, to the front of the house, to where he though a phone might be. Eventually help came, but not before the star wished he'd had company to call out to in the first place.

Today's #flashfiction Grab My Arm

“I don't know what you mean.”

Noah Webster* #quote

Today I deduced the most deducible of deductions. Anyway onto the flash fiction!

Grab My Arm

        Please grab my arm one more time. I do get lonely very easily. It is my only purpose you see.

For you to grab my arm and pull, and every time you let go it pains my heart. I hate how I cannot always give you gifts, but I suppose part of the reason you come back is that I give you gifts big and small. That and you must love all the lights and images that I show you. However I the thing I hate most is not only when you leave but when you leave me for someone else.

        Oh, why must there be so many slot machines like me in the casino? Maybe if I was the only one everyone would focus on me and I'd never get any dust or loneliness.  

Today's #flashfiction The Magnificent's Secret

“Don't be a show off.”

Gene Simmons* #quote

Today I wondered how many leprechauns have filed for restraining orders.

The Magnificent's Secret

          The audience clapped when Jasmine, the magician's assistant, teleported without any smoke or mirrors right in front of their very eyes. All she did was spin in that wonderful dress of hers and she appeared on another part of the stage. People called Yonder the Magnificent the best magician of them all. Though many did think he needed a better name. But Reggie couldn't change his stage name, especially after hitting it so big, so he regretted his choice. Other impossible tricks were performed, without the usual coverings that magicians needed. An escape trick with no possibility for a trap door. People tried to use cameras and those who debunked magicians worked for months with nothing to show for it.

         The magician did have to reveal his secret, to a circle of a few close friends. One is the actress who voiced Jasmine, and looked just like her in case people needed to meet her in person. Because the thing is, the impossibility of his tricks did not lie in real magic as some who gave up after much investigation, but in hidden science. Everything on the stage existed as a hologram. Reggie was a scientist and anything could happen when nothing was real.

          Sometimes him or his assistant did need to swap out with the illusions, that required great timing. But for the most part everyone in the entire theater watched a recording. Long ago Reggie invented the technology, and to get an unbiased opinion on how it looked, set it up in a little theater and made himself Yonder the Magnificent. The degree people were fooled was amazing. The manager of that little theater where he started, a few of the workers there and his assistant Jasmine are the only ones who know the secret and have been close friends over the many years they have carefully guarded the technology.

         Reggie's great hologram technology could be helping everyone all over the world, however when fame and fortune knocks on your door, there are many things you'd keep a secret.  

Today's #flashfiction Didn't You Read The Sign?

“Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again but expecting different results.”

Wile E. Coyote* #quote

Today I watched a Hunger Games movie with my family. We ate dinner during it so I didn't hunger during the games.

Didn't You Read The Sign?

         Lead archaeologist Ted Burns entered the ruins along with his colleagues and a camera crew. It took days and days of digging in the agonizing sun of Egypt to open up these ruins. Their funding came from a television channel that wanted to make a show of the initial entering of a ruins. The camera crew only came after the door to the area was first unearthed. Their presence made Ted Burns and his colleagues uncomfortable, they feared they would damage something, and he was contractually obligated to not enter the room without them. Not even to open the entrance.

         Carefully he opened the door, the camera crew rushing in front of his colleagues. The desert made him sweat, but knowing that people who didn't know how to handle the precious artificats of the past were preventing him from taking the care necessary for full preservation, made him sweat more than any desert heat. A single mistake could damage anything. He knew the television crew held no malice, and tried to be careful when he asked them to, but when they looked in all the wrong places to get better shots instead of being cautious to avoid damaging things he felt more nervous with each passing second.

          Ted held a powerful flashlight with one hand that lit up the hallway that started the ruins. The camera crew also used their own lights that lit up the ruins, and the archeologist. His light brown shirt, hat, and pants weren't the most extravagant of clothes, however everyone on the camera crew did notice the extremely large amount of pockets covering both the front and back of his pants. Also the large pocket on the front of his shirt as well. This made them all wonder what he could be carrying in that vast array of pockets. Their imagination filled with tools and supplies for complex adventures worthy of an action movie.

          After a few twists in the hallway the ruins opened to a large room. Ted entered the room and looked around to see nothing, only hallway leading to the next.

         Ted as per contract started narrating about the inner parts of the ruins, starting to make filler for the show being taped. However a mummy holding a spear walked slowly from the dark hallway leading into the next room and it started speaking ancient Egyptian.

         Everyone stood still in fear and for a moment they didn't say anything, one cameraman, the boldest of them all, asked, “Do you understand what it is saying?”

          Ted Burns replied in a squeamish yell, “I-I don't know how to speak ancient Egyptian, nobody alive has for thousand of years! I can only read it! This sounds completely different from what people guessed it would sound like!”

         When the mummy finished speaking it pointed at a set of hieroglyphs on the wall near the end of the hallway they arrived from. Everyone turned to the hieroglyphs and Ted read them aloud in the same voice he would have used if reading from a confusing map.

         “Meeting the Pharaoh is by appointment only?”

          The eyes of the mummy erupted a red mist and the glass of the cameras shattered as the ground shook. They all ran out of the ruins while the mummy pointed the spear at them while speaking ancient Egyptian at them like an annoyed security guard at a theme park. The ruins collapsed around them and no one ever believed their story so they turned their footage into one of those sci-fi clips and got a least a little bit of a profit as people thought “the special effects were amazing”.

Today's #flashfiction Once Upon A Death Orb

“1. A robot may not injure a human being or, through inaction, allow a human being to come to harm. 2. A robot must obey the orders given to it by human beings, except where such orders would conflict with the First Law. 3. A robot must protect its own existence as long as such protection does not conflict with the First or Second Laws.”

HAL 9000* #quote

Happy Mother's Day y'all! Anyway onto the flash fiction!

Once Upon A Death Orb

       The Death Orb floated in the center of the galaxy, it held the record for being the largest space station ever built along with being the most weaponized and legally distinct from other giant spherical space stations by being painted green, having several thousand satellite death lasers on the outside and not one big one and no openings that missiles can be shot down.

       The general that oversaw all matters in the Death Orb went by no normal name. People only knew him by a title, “Helmetman”. Helmetman struck fear into his subordinates by commanding the amazing powers of The Stuff, the previously thought to be completely bogus magical practices of the secret mystics called the Guys. Also he used a really awesome yet also horrifying axe made of lighting that went “wee-woo-crack-broowww” while he swung it.

       And poor Steve, a janitor among all the Striketroopers on the Death Orb, was called up to meet Helmetman. When he signed up to serve in the military he figured that he would fear for his life while he fought for the Dominion on the front lines. But no, fear overtook him when he faced Helmetman for a simple error.

       He hadn't been on the job long in the Death Orb and got lost, stumbling onto a top secret meeting. Helmetman reached to the conclusion that he worked as a spy for The Resistors. Steve didn't know how long he'd live as his boss held his axe of lighting high above his head while it illuminated his red helmet, armor and cape.

        “Tell us everything you know spy, and we may spare you. The torture will stop when you tell us.” Helmetman held Steve in place with a strange liquid that covered and drowned him like water, but didn't kill him. It allowed him to hear and speak, and when it first grabbed him it peeled off his Dominion regulation armor and weapons like peeling off an egg, leaving him defenseless in his undershirt and pants with his black hair ragged.

        “I don't know anything!” Steve yelled for at least the ten thousandth time. Helmetman kept torturing and Steve kept telling him the truth. It went on and on while the commanders under Helmetman watched. They became more convinced of Steve's innocence with each passing moment, but they didn't want to speak against their boss's judgment to continue or else they might become tortured themselves.

         Helmetman continued to wreck Steve's body, and he'd rather have Steve die of shock from the torture than admit that he was wrong about him being a spy. Steve gained relief from the torture when Helmetman lost focus due to a explosion heard beyond the walls of the room. Controlling The Stuff required control of one's mind and Helmetman's lost the focus needed for complete needed when the explosion echoed through the Death Orb.

       More and more explosions. Not in a chaotic fashion like a reactor exploded. A steady beat. Bam, bam, bam, bam, bam.

       Helmetman then yelled, “The Resistors are here!” The commanders were shocked to hear both the statement and the fear in his voice. Helmetman figured out from the rate of explosions that they managed to somehow to breach the Death Orb and each explosion was a demolition of a lockdown door between areas. He didn't know how but the enemy had disabled ship communications in such a way that alarms could not but rung but everything appeared as business as usual.

       In the next few minutes the commanders tried to deliberate what happened and what to do while Helmetman worked even harder to torture Steve because he figured that he must have been involved somehow. Those short few minutes were enough for The Resistors to get to the room and enter it with another explosive blast. The commanders were quickly shot but Helmetman managed to block all the ray gun shots with his lighting axe. However a good mystic from the order of the Guys used the powers of the The Stuff to break the lighting axe and Helmetman was defeated.

      The Guys mystic opened his hood and revealed his thick white beard and heavy wrinkles. “So, who are you young man?” Steve saw the pity in the eyes of the man who saved him.

      “My name is Steve. I'm on an off the books spy mission. Well was since they captured me. But you rescued me, so it's over I guess.” Steve's still felt the mental toll of the torture even though it ended.

      The mystic replied, “Well it's good that you survived Steve. Let's get you out of here. I can hardly imagine what they did to you.”

Today's #flashfiction Villain's Block

 “We have nothing to fear but fear itself.”

Steven King* #quote

Today I went to my card game thing, and much fun was had. Also beware, sometimes, just sometimes, those shirts in your closet are up to something.

Villain Block

         “Hahahhahahahhahahhahahahahahahahhahahaha!” My evil laughs echoed throughout my evil, evil lair. I then sighed. “I've got nothing.” I admitted to myself. Though I've never written a book I think I can now relate to all those writers in the world. I can't come up with any ideas for an evil plan. I thought the laugh might help, but I still couldn't come up with anything original. No new evil plans.           And no super villain worth a hoot would recycle a plan. Just like an author I must be having that “writer's block”. Hmmm...but this is the version for evil villains. I must name it. I must use all my intelligence as evil genius Dr. Mindblown. I shall call it... “villain block”! Now how shall I conquer this obstacle to world domination? After all, I cannot conquer the world without an evil plan...and this “villain block” is preventing me from doing so.

          Though I do not normally use the technology of the common man I will use it in this case. I will use the commoners Internet. Look up how the common writer deals with “writer's block”. Whatever techniques work against it might work against “villain's block”.

         After looking at several websites it seems that several methods are purposed. Though these seem purposed for novels and stories I may be able to adapt them to evil plans. All revolve around thought processes though. They suggest mapping out characters and plot points on paper. The characters I adapt into my enemies and myself. The plot points I may adapt into possible elements in the flow of events. The characters in a story will the pawns in my schemes and the plot will be my evil plan.

         Before I looked down on all literature as a simple waste of time. Inflated entertainment. But it looks now that their techniques may help me hatch my final schemes to defeat all my enemies and take over the world. I realized that this is not the first time I have had “villain's block” and these techniques to fight “writer's block” may even enhance my schemes. Mwahahahhahaha. I may defeat the superheroes of the world yet and conquer it. All of the world bowing before me thanks to these common fools giving me the secrets of defeating “writer's block”!

Today's #flashfiction Wand Support

“Make love, not war.”

Genghis Khan* #quote

As I think about going to the new Avengers movie I wonder what kind of power I would have as a superhero. It'd probably involve overwhelming my opponents with the massive kinetic energy given off by my massive manliness.

Wand Support

        “Magiware Wand Support how can I help you?” Trogdin the goblin asked. It'd been a long day of earning money to pay for a college degree that would finally lead him to a job that would be fulfilling.

         “Finally, it feels like I've been on hold for an hour.” Trogdin already heard the pained annoyance in the man's voice. Both from whatever issue happened in his wand and his waiting.

         “What's the problem Sir?”

          The man replied, “The wireless spell downloading capabilities of my wand aren't working! I've been going through the settings for griffon knows how long before I called!”

          Trogdin thought to himself then replied, “Did you try turning the wand off then turning it back on?”

Silence created a hollow air to come from the speaker.

          Trogdin then said, “Sir?”

          The man then laughed. “Well I'll be a dragon's momma, it worked!

          Trogdin then prepared to give his sage advice to the next fifty callers.

Today's #flashfiction The Most Perilous Junk Food

“Build a better mousetrap and the world will beat a path to your door.”

Harry Houdini* #quote

        Tomorrow I'll be hanging with my friend Jessica and going to see the new the Avengers movie, Age of Ultron. (Hopefully the Age of Ultron doesn't last as long as the Ice Age or else I'll get sore because those movie chairs can get uncomfortable after awhile.)

The Most Perilous Junk Food

        The Mega-Burrito-Burger-Ball. A most mysterious and dangerous junk food. A daring chef decided to ignore all laws of decency and create a ball of twisted flavor unique to this world no matter how it affected the body. Calling it a burrito and a burger merely approximated its form as a sequence of bread buns held together by grease and cheese rolled around a core in a burrito like folding ball. The interior contained a concoction formed of years of thought. The “chef”, if creating such a monstrosity should allow him to keep such a title, worked hard to create something that he wanted to use to go down in culinary history.

         Sugars, spices, beans upon cheeses, synthetic flavorings of the fast food industry and his own creation. All went in along with meats and little bits, even if only bits as small as dust, of nuts and fruit. He aged food in strange ways to create some sort of effect unknown along with his chemicals. What happens when chemistry born of a lab meets liquor along with spinach?

         This chef did have a small cooking show with a small following. Usually it showed boring dishes, but he brought in this one to show to the world. Since it took so long to create all the ingredients he only had one, so he ate it on the show. He smiled on the first bite and dug into it like a starving man, the flavor he created rushing through his brain as a strange stimulus that filled every neuron. He then fell dead shortly after finishing. His mind couldn't handle the flavor.  

Today's #flashfiction A Game Show A Few Channels Over

“Honor thy father and mother.”

Nero* #quote

I'll be hanging with my friend Jessica and her family this Friday it seems and we'll be headed to see the new Avengers movie. Anyway onto the flash fiction!

A Game Show A Few Channels Over

         “Do you want to use an Assist Line?” asked Xigis Xinblin, host of Who Wishes To Win A Spaceship Full Of Money, in an alien language not unlike French mixed with Japanese and a bit of ketchup.

          The contestant narrowed two of four eyes, furrowed his brow in concentration, and focused all facets of his three brains that he could on the question. “No, I'll save them. Including Hologram A Friend. I'll need them for the final round.”

          Xigis Xinblin replied, “Alright, I'll repeat the question for you. Humans, the developing species on the preservation planet Earth are most famous for... One: Their art. Two: Their warlike behavior. Three: Their biology. Or Four: Their internet content.”

           The contestant clapped his tentacles together, “One: Their art, as any intelligent species is, art defines and will distinguish a species.”

           Xigis asked him, “Is that your decisive answer?”

           “Yes.”

            Xigis frowned with both mouths. “I'm sorry, but that's incorrect. Humans are known for their internet content. To this day our scientist have yet to distinguish how the species devolves so rapidly on an intellectual level when communicating electronically.”

Today's #flashfiction The Knight And Family

 “A closet full of clothes and nothing to wear.”

Lady Godiva

If you can dance to the beat can you dance from the beat?

The Knight And Family

         “We need to move out,” The knight said. He'd lost track of the amount of times he'd told her.

         The princess replied, “But he's the one who brought us together, and without my Dad how are we going to going to live in a castle without being someone's servant? We couldn't take him just anywhere! Or do you not want him to be with us.”

         The knight looked at his armor, and his sword next to it. He hadn't been adventuring in awhile. If he moved out he'd have reason to raid evil fortress, caves and lairs for wealth for his princess. Dungeons of all kinds. Like the old days. However now he worked mundane hunting jobs or cheap teaching jobs at the knight academy.

         “It's not him...it's being here, in this place.” The knight placed his hand upon the princess's in a chivalrous fashion. He learned that gesture in his knight's school when he squired.

          A loud thump shook the ground and a huge, green dragon fell down. “Howdy, howdy new bro and sis! So old Sir James is getting bored of my big ol' castle? How about I take him for a spin 'round the mountains?”

         The knight sighed. His princess looked oblivious as did the dragon. He knew how to fight beasts, though the dragon proved to civil to fight when he found him, but he didn't know how to fight other kinds of problems. Maybe while flying on the mountains with the dragon he'll find a way to reconcile a life of the mundane with this new family. Or maybe this adopted dragon could be a new adventuring partner? Fighting monsters involved the simple action of stabbing the thing with your blade. He couldn't stab anyone into agreeing with him. When he leaped onto the back of the dragon he decided to take adventures with others one step at a time.

Today's #flashfiction No Such Thing As A Free Lunch

 “Don't overcomplicate things.”

Rube-Goldberg* #quote

Today I contemplated the secrets of the universe. They asked me to stop. Anyway onto the flash fiction!

No Such Thing As A Free Lunch

        “That is not normal prey. Something's off...” Fineas the bass said while him and his friend circled the suspicious food near the surface.

         His friend, Willy slowly neared the prey. “Nah, it's just some near dead food, something that's aged away. Easy pickings.”

         Fineas went further towards the bottom of the lake. “Nothin' is this easy. Even the dying don't wiggle that still.”

         Willy shot up to the prey at the surface. “You worry too much Fineas! That's why I'm getting an easy meal!”

          And so Willy took a bite of the worm and Fred the fisherman on the dock reeled Willy in.

Today's #flashfiction Time Travel Timekeeping

 “I'm a morning person.”

Batman* #quote

Today I hung out with CJ and much fun was had as per usual. Anyway onto the flash fiction!

Time Travel Timekeeping

           Akiko and Hans were two scientists and well renowned time travelers. They'd worked hard together many years because they both agreed on their theories on time travel and how to do their work. Two peas in a pod both when time traveling and whenever they didn't work as well. They hardly argued, especially over work. Except for this one moment, at a most dire time.

           “Hans, it's 10:30 A.M at home.” Akiko asserted.

            Hans replied, “No, it's 10:31.”

            When time traveling one of their watches were wrong. They didn't know what time they departed from home. If they didn't go right, they wouldn't return into their time machine and be stuck in a limbo. One of them was one minute off, exactly, since they'd set their watches to the micro-micro-micro-second otherwise.

            They stared at each other. This argument reached a massive scale of importance, and merited shouting, or screaming. But the concept of doing so at a dear friend didn't register as a possibility.

The dinosaurs around them stomped and roared. Each time a time traveler did their work a temporary new time line was created for them to experience. So they really couldn't damage anything.

           Hans shrugged. “We could vacation for a bit.”

           Akiko then replied, “Then we could build a new time machine to get home!”

Today's #flashfiction If It's Broke, Fix It

 “It's dry clean only.”

The Wicked Witch Of The West* #quote

Today CJ should be coming over to help me in my mission in infiltrating the Martian base. Wish us luck! Anyway onto the flash fiction!

If It's Broke, Fix It

          “Ch-Ee-Ry-C-owwwwws!” Grandpa yelled one of his made up curses after he hit his thumb with a hammer. Grandma said he “had the mouth of a sailor” before he had Mom and Dad, but now I refused to use real swear words in front of anyone. Something different always came out of his mouth every time, and he swore a lot. “Monkey-dancin', rock-polishers...” he grumbled as he dropped the hammer to the floor and grit his teeth.

         “You alright?” I asked.

          He turned around to me and smiled. “Oh, I'm alright my wonderful granddaughter.” I remembered when he talked to Mom and Dad about watching over me for the weekend, not that I needed a babysitter, he never told them that he would be working on fixing the backyard door. It'd be nice if he wore out soon and went inside to relax or something so I could watch cartoons or whatever.

         “N-oooo-dles sHoVeD-up MY soup!” Grandpa screamed again after a second attempt. He managed a few hits finding his target on the third attempt. But when he went for the next nail he hammered a finger with the hammer again. “QuEEns of England in the B-el-frY !”

          “Grandpa?”

          “Yes my dearest granddaughter?” He smiled while holding back as much of the expressions of pain as he could.

          “Maybe you should get glasses like Grandma's been telling you to.”

Today's #flashfiction The Coded Souls

“Oh be kind to your small person friends. Every Who may be somebody's mother. Be kind to any Who on every speck. Any one of them might likely be your brother.”

Roger Daltrey* #quote

Today I went to a wonderful family gathering. Much fun was had as all good family gatherings tend to. Anyway onto the flash fiction!

The Coded Souls

         Humanity didn't need television or books for entertainment anymore. Those were still made. But now something else existed. My reality. The virtual reality where humanity watched us from above. Or below. Or the sides. Or whatever angle they wanted. Even within our minds.

          I'm a program living inside an infinite plane of existence. And I'm, for a lack of better words, a soul. Right now I'm in limbo. But soon I'll be coded into some sort of being to give it form and emotion. Most likely it'll be human. But if they want a robot with emotion, or a spirit, or dragon, I'll be in it. Whatever will make the most interesting show. The most interesting story. A destiny will be coded into me.

          The destiny won't be specific actions. But instead they'll give me inclinations. A base personality that will be molded by the scenarios that follow after the start of the first scene. It's humans jobs, along with programs, to search through simulated realities to find out which ones had the most interesting stories unfold and present to the people. Millions of worlds and created and millions of coded souls are placed into them.

         I suppose I'm just an actor. I have planted memories for all of my roles as I piggy back on a body...feeding it my emotions. I'm not even part of the virtual brain. Oh, the beings I've been. I've been the serial killers that murder off camera. Though I've had to witness them. I wish they would program those memories out...but they only do if it affects my performances.

       Eventually they scrub the memories from my mind until it becomes as fuzzy as a dream. But I've heard other coded souls in limbo talk about those horrors as they are between scenes so I won't forgive the humans for making me go through that. An odd thing to know the pain you've gone through mostly by seeing others lament.

         I wonder what the humans think of my performances. It had better be worth making me sentient to my existence.