Today's #flashfiction The Importance Of Being Oodial

“You shall not covet they neighbor's wife.”

Giacomo Casanova* #quote

If space aliens helped the ancient Egyptians build the pyramids I wonder why they did. Was it a construction contract? I guess that means space aliens accept ancient Egyptian currency. Or maybe they like gold too. Personally I'd like to see the Egyptians and space aliens arguing over the price of labor and materials. Anyway onto the flash fiction!

The Importance Of Being Ooidal

            Ooidal, meaning egg-shaped, was an obscure word. That meant he was bullied by all the cool, popular words. The more commonly used words like “I” were slender and famous for being used so often. Long words that people knew, like “Inconsequential”, though not used as often were the big and bad and could through their weight around. Words with complicated definitions like Evanescent basked in their intellectual superiority to talk down on others, no matter how obscure.

          But Ooidal. The other words laughed at him since nothing was really special about him. People didn't use him when speaking so he wasn't famous. His definition, merely saying something was “egg-shaped” was absurdly simple. And he was a short little word that'd easily get wrecked in a fight with any word with significant mass. He could at most fight with a more famous word that was smaller and used more often, like “and”, but that'd show how weak he was.

         So Ooidal felt depressed. He didn't know what to do. That's when one of the onomatopoeia passed by him, going “Boing! Boing!” as it bounced along. People loved the onomatopoeia for how fun or dramatic they could sound. Boing bounced along, making his noise as he moved. It then crossed Ooidal's mind to think about how he sounded. Ooidal. Ooidal.

         He sounded kinda funny. Was this something that could make a word special? He began to think it might be something special. It was something he had that many other words didn't. Maybe sometime some people would start saying him because he sounded funny. Ooidal. Ooidal. It'd be nice to be special.

Today's #flashfiction The End Of Days

“Do you pick door number one, door number two, or door number three?”

Saint Peter* #quote

Hung out with CJ today, quite a good deal of fun. We lit nothing on fire. Anyway onto the flash fiction!

The End Of Days

                 On the night of an eerie full moon the vampires, along with the help of werewolves and other creatures of the darkness cast a spell to usher in The End Of Days. While the spell stayed in effect there would be no day, the sun hidden by the curse. Moon hung high in the sky and using illusion, became visible from anywhere on the Earth, casting its light. A full moon for the werewolves and vampires, imps and demons, and whatever else to have its fun. Coldness covered the planet.

               Humanity wasn't prepared for the monsters that attacked, who previously didn't move far and hid because the Sun on any horizon could destroy them. Humans delved into hiding while the monsters attacked. Then played, and laughed, the world their oyster. Nothing held them back and they dominated for thousands of years while the humans hid and the planet grew colder. They forgot the very existence of the spell that brought them their dominance. And nothing could stop their dominance.

              Until humans, now in hiding found powerful magic like the monsters once did. This was when they cast the spell that caused The Start Of Days. This caused the monsters to go into hiding once again. Humans did not know this, but this was not the first time creatures found magic and cast their own Start and End of Days. Geologists called the first the cycle the Ice Age. And these cycles would continue until the Earth itself ended.    

Today's #flashfiction Santa's Friday

“Is that your final answer?”

The Spanish Inquisition* #quote

People in trench coats are not the kind of people you should try to get flash fictions from. That's just good sense. Anyway onto the flash fiction!

Santa's Friday

          The elves rested easy along with Santa. Profits hit what they needed to during Black Friday during this year and they could see consider this weekend the best time of the year. The elves transformed back from their human disguises to rest for a few days and Santa could let his beard grow back in a little. He knew people would grow suspicious of him with it so he only let it grow at home.

          At the end of every Black Friday he tried to remember what year he moved away from the North Pole and bought the controlling shares of half the major toy companies all over the world with his elves in disguise. The thoughts of when he chose to modernize his attitude tended to vanish though when he relaxed at his beachfront property while drinking champagne.  

Today's #flashfiction Daniel The Demon

 “Second star to the right and straight on till morning.”

Siri* #quote

CJ might coming over tomorrow. Or the mole people might finally stop stealing our wi-fi. Or both might hopefully happen. Anyway onto the flash fiction!

Daniel The Demon

           Daniel the demon took pride in his work. He tricked mortals into signing over their souls for sometimes the littlest of things. Wealth, power, immortality. Twist the way they ask for it and the deal can be filled with barely any effort. A man asked Daniel to be more powerful than The President Of The United States. Daniel flicked his barbed tail with a fanged grin and turned the man into a battery. Genies would be jealous of Daniel's craftiness.

          While lounging around in the Underworld watching TV another demon appeared in front of Daniel. The demon that rudely interrupted So You Think You Can Torture? wore the green business suit that practically was uniform for soul dealers like Daniel. Right now Daniel didn't wear his suit, just pajamas with skulls on them. Both demons shared the same snake-like scales.

          “Whatever your heart's desire is, I can fulfill it,” the intruder spoke with the lines straight out of the manual for starter soul contractors. Daniel learned these lines on his first day. He soon discarded them as he understood humans better.

          Daniel then asked, “Okay, who are you? Demons don't ask other demons for their souls. That's not how it works.”

          “My name is John,” the demon replied. Well, despite the fact demons usually lied, Daniel knew that must at least be his name since in the end a demon must sign with at least part of their real name on the soul contract. With that kind of curl in his horns the demon didn't look like a John, more like a Bob. “And Daniel you are eligible to get whatever you desire, since you are half human.”

           Daniel then replied, “Liar, the only thing that has to be the truth is whatever you put in the final soul contract. You've got to come up with something more believable than that.”

John then said, “Alright, upper management wants to downsize and get the power of demon souls at the same time. They worked real hard to get a soul contract to take demon souls to work.”

          “I'll show them,” Daniel smirked and then demanded John give him the contract paper. He wrote up the contract himself since he figured that John knew nothing but what the manual told him. “Now sign it, and you'll be getting my soul.”

            John signed the contract. Daniel had an elaborate, contract written out in the best of magical legalese which gave up his soul then returned it directly back to him in exchange for his desires. The exact way it made sense would take about 3 underworld law degrees to understand. He figured something this complicated would be above someone who learned from the soul contract manual.

            Daniel would have won the day with his years of experience, however his contract fell apart in many key places and his soul remained with the demons and not in his possession because he missed something important. He was truly half human and that ruined the wording of the contract. John was a more experienced soul contractor than he let on, and knew that Daniel would assume that the first thing he said was a lie.

           Taking advantage of people's assumptions was something covered in the soul contractor manual.

Today's #flashfiction Gobbling

“A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush.”

Colonel Sanders* #quote

Happy Thanksgiving everyone! Anyway onto the flash fiction!

Gobbling

         The turkey gobbles in the morning, in evening and a night. The sound of its gobbling is heard every week of every day. It gobbles month by month whenever it pleases as it trots around. It gobbles along with all the other gobbling turkeys. That is, until it is gobbled.  

Today's #flashfiction PogoCop

 “I can see my house from here!”

Icarus* #quote

If you ever look outside and see a seven foot tall alien wearing a top hat, remember that it's just as afraid of you as you are of it. Anyway onto the flash fiction!

PogoCop

          Jerry surfed the channels as usual when an ad for a new movie appeared. Since this was the first time he saw this ad he gave it some attention, unlike the past two hundred times he saw those insurance commercials.

         “In the future New York is devastated by crime.” the narrator speaks in the familiar dramatic voice present in nearly every action movie trailer. “The police are brought to their knees by the criminals of this violent new age.” The screen showed a ruined New York. It achieved this by panning through famous locations and showing them in disrepair. Computer graphics editing of real life images really helped along the way. “The only one who can New York from the brink of death is a man who almost died himself.” The narrator continued.

          On the screen appeared a man with his center body replaced by a pogo stick. His center body compressed as he jumped incredible heights. More scenes flashed by and showed that most of the man's body had been replaced by the various mechanisms of pogo sticks. His arms were made of pogo sticks. Even though his feet seemed partly made of “normal” prosthetic, they had the end pieces of pogo sticks on the back assisting his jump. Each finger was a spring connected to a massive chamber spring in his arm. His whole fist or an individual finger could supposedly launch with the collective power of the entire mechanism.

          The narrator finished his exposition, “PogoCop, once an ordinary man, was brought back to life by the union of a prosthetic company and a pogo stick company seeking to invent new prosthetic where the user would have the strength of a hundred men. And they succeeded.”

         The trailer ended declaring the movie release date and the fact it would be in 3D. Jerry thought for a moment he might see it, but he then decided he wouldn't since this was the second time they were remaking PogoCop.

Today's #flashfiction Spectral Loneliness

 “I'm tired.”

The Michelin Man* #quote

When you are monkeying around, what exactly are you going around? Anyway onto the flash fiction!

Spectral Loneliness

        “Please spirit, give us some sign that you're here!” The paranormal investigators pleaded while carrying their cameras and other equipment.

        “Yes! I'm here!” I yelled, though I figured that my voice would appear as static on their equipment again. I moved my body in front of their cameras, ran my red, misty hand through the devices they carried again and again. They couldn't see me but I hoped something would pick up. Maybe they'd be different.

        “Sorry for disturbing you, but we wish to learn about you.”

         I hate whenever someone says that they don't wish to disturb me. Don't they get it? Loneliness is the worst part of being tied to some old place that people hardly visit. It takes tremendous amounts of energy for me to barely move beyond where I'm stuck haunting. I can only manage to talk to other ghosts or people watch once a month at most if I'm lucky. Why can't you demo this place already? Wreck it and make it a new home and have some people move in! I want roommates! Why do I only get the occasional paranormal investigator visiting this ruined old home of mine? People isolate haunted houses as some historical landmarks to never be touched.

       Everyone knows people don't like to be alone, so whoever decided that ghosts like to be left alone?

Today's #flashfiction Miscast

 “High five!”

King Midas* #quote

If I had a nickel for every time an alien asked me to give him directions to the nearest carnival I'd have twenty bucks. Anyway onto the flash fiction!

Miscast

         Oh no, I just wasted a good deal of money on a terrible mistake. I pride myself on being an extraordinary wizard and I used up some very expensive spell components on a powerful illusion spell but cast it on the wrong person. This powerful spell alters perception and memories to make a person think they live in a world without magic and that there is joy in their lives. The spell removes the magic so they don't doubt their reality. The person I wanted to cast it on was a friend in great trouble. I'll have to find more spell components to make another spell for him. Right now I'm concerned on finding the someone who I cast the spell on by accident. The one that lives in a fake reality. Have you seen someone that acts strange, and doesn't realize they live a lie?

        Is it you?

Today's #flashfiction Packing In

 “Right over left, left over right makes a knot both tidy and tight.”

Alexander the Great* #quote

What happens when you dam up river dancing? Does it become a lake dancing? Anyway onto the flash fiction!

Packing In

         Quickfoot, our alpha and an older cousin of mine, led us on a good hunt. Two deer. We will eat well tonight. I liked our previous alpha better. He addressed me and the others by name, an unusual practice for wolves to do so on a regular basis outside of planning for the hunt. “Strongjaw, remember to trust your fellow wolves in the hunt. Any fights at home need to be put away on the hunt for the pack to survive.” He lived long and his advised well, sickness taking him in the end. Some wolves said his kindness was to keep power so that people wouldn't try to take his position. But I found it very genuine. Quickfoot however, I have no problem trying to become alpha in his place.

         Quickfoot then barked to everyone, “To the bushes!” He didn't command the respect our old alpha did, and the instruction was outside the pre-planned activities of the hunt so nobody responded. However I moved when I whiffed something I never smelled before. After I moved along with Quickfoot the others did into the bushes around where we killed the deer.

         I was a pup when Quickfoot went on his first hunt with our alpha. They came back with an extraordinary tale. The tale of the alpha species. The one that could kill anything with the metal tree branch that threw rocks with the power of fire. Without the branch they can be hunted like prey, but with it you are nothing but rabbits to them. I was told that with the gun came the smell of smoke without a forest fire. Quickfoot must have remembered the smell from all those years ago.

        The creature was tall. He didn't have much fur, but covered himself in something to act as fur. It smelled like the wool of a sheep. Perhaps it somehow changed the wool of a sheep to suit its purpose.           The creature looked down and saw the deer we killed in the meadow. It appeared scared despite the fact it held the metal branch. Did it somehow figure out we were here? Is it afraid of us? The face of it turned serious and it started pointed the metal branch towards the bushes. It did know we were here. It must have figured out the kill was fresh.

         “Everyone, run, now!” Quickfoot ran towards the creature. We all reacted instantly this time. The entire pack ran from the alpha species without looking back. I heard a sound like thunder. I never saw Quickfoot alive again, and replaced him as alpha.

Today's #flashfiction The Ultimate Mystery

“A Long Time Ago, in a Galaxy Far Far Away...”

A Game of Thrones* #quote

What's black and white and dizzy all over? A penguin rolling down a hill! Anyway onto the flash fiction!

The Ultimate Mystery

           In my work doing homicide I've dealt with a great deal of crimes. However the crime I dealt with today happened in my station. It was personal. Someone stole my lunch from the break room fridge. Who's had the guts to steal from me, a senior officer? I spent a great deal of time going to the gym and shaved my head to create a tough guy persona just so this kind of crap wouldn't happen to me. I was going to find out who did this to me.

          Four people had access to the break room between the time went to the bathroom and my lunch vanished. The first would be our crafty captain. A clever woman with the philosophy of it's better to ask for forgiveness than for permission. I'd swear she got that position using a combination of her wit, dedication and that philosophy. Her ability to switch between tough and sweet helped her greatly. The biggest evidence for her was that she probably assumed that if she was caught she could just talk her way out of it.

        The second was our computer guy. A jolly fellow with a few mood swings to nasty remarks when it suited him. He brought his own lunchbox since he ate meals large enough they would crowd the break room fridge. I wouldn't be surprised that if he felt like it would take someone's lunch to get even more food. If that was true that'd be exceptionally vile since I noticed his box was closed so he hadn't even started eating his.

         Third suspect I felt to be unlikely due to his lack of guts. A new officer who preferred to avoid danger and patrol the safest neighborhoods possible I doubt he'd steal any lunches. That, and I noticed that he was eating his lunch right now, a massive sub sandwich despite the small size of his body.

         The last suspect was another officer. A strange man I could never get a read on. He passed examinations very well and just by looking into his passive-agressive-loony gaze criminals confessed. The man possessed an awkward air around him with no malice about it. Right now he held some crackers and snacked on them. When I locked eyes with him he stopped eating for a second. I remembered he ate these small snacks through the day and always carried bottled water as well. Oddly enough with this habit he wasn't extraordinarily skinny so he must have some method to his madness. Perhaps it involved stealing lunches?

          I couldn't ask forensics to use any of their tools to analyze the crime scene so I had to use logic and try to find some sort of conclusion from what little I could assume at the time. Who, who dared steal my lunch? With some thought I managed to secure a culprit in my mind.

I approached our computer guy, “You forgot your lunch so you stole mine?”

         “I'm sorry!” He responded. I realized that when I looked at him I saw his lunchbox, however it was closed. I only assumed that he hadn't started eating, when in fact he forgot to pack it in the first place and just carried an empty lunch box to work. I found my culprit, and fortunately for him, held my temper back.  

Today's #flashfiction Two Different Methods

“Life is like a box of chocolates, you never know what you're going to get.”

Nostradamus* #quote

I'm heading to CJ's birthday party tomorrow. It's certain to be good fun. Anyway onto the flash fiction!

Two Different Methods

         The elves sent a create made of a thousand different materials to invade the other Earth, the Earth without magic. They intended to conquer it with this super weapon. The titan they created walked like an elf, looked like an elf, and disregarded civilians like an elf would. When met with tank fire the body of the creature took the blows and gathered material from around it to reconstruct itself.           On the second day of the attack the elves sent another two titans through magic portals. Then some more throughout the week at various parts of the world. The magicless world of the humans would crumble before them.

         Or so they thought. The slow titans did not disrupt the world enough to prevent evacuations. To prevent a response. But the world of humans did not respond with nuclear weapons or something massive like that. Soldiers with firefighting equipment came up to the titans. But instead of blasting water they blasted a chemical that pulled apart the individual pieces of the titan faster than it could build itself back together with magic.

         “I told you my way was better,” the deity that created the universe of humanity told the deity that created the universe of elves. “Giving my humans science will let them beat any magical creation that you gift your creations. Is it my turn for my creations to invade your universe to finish up our wager?”

         The other deity responded, “I'd rather you didn't, I think you made your point.”

Today's #flashfiction Stubbornness

“Come with me if you want to live.”

Dr. Frankenstein* #quote

Tomorrow is the gaming club I go to at the college. It's good that the school allows club participation despite me being on medical leave due to my disability. It's been fun there. I've only had a few seizures there and only fell out of a chair once. Anyway onto the flash fiction!

Stubbornness

           A massive descended on the forest. Normally a storm meant nothing but good, life giving rain. But an angry bolt of lighting managed to light a tree ablaze. The rain did not manage to put out the flames before it grew large enough to sustain itself. The animals ran from the new predator in the woods, the fire could consume them faster than anything else. It also ate the animals on the top of the food chain. It ate the mighty bears and scattered the normally proud wolves from their packs. The birds fled from their nests along with the rodents and the insects buzzed into the sky, the smoke often choking them.

          The forest perished into ash, the animals moving to other woods for salvation. In a month however, a few flowers already sprouted up from the ash. Nature tends to be stubborn about living.  

Today's #flashfiction Doodlepocalpse

 “Hindsight is 20/20”

Marty McFly* #quote

Today I found the meaning of life. Who would of thought it would be in a dictionary? Anyway onto the flash fiction!

Doodlepocalpse

          The pink meteor descended upon the people of Doodle City. It collided into people's box homes and tore through the thin walls with ease. The strange meteor had properties like no other. It did not merely stop when it hit the arched waves in the lake. It rose up again and moved through more of the city. Then fell down again. Moved up and down.

          It kept destroying and destroying. The frail people with their round heads and stick bodies didn't stand a chance as it struck them again and again until they nothing remained. It ground the fur straight off the skin off the animals.

          The meteor spared not a single thing in Doodle Town. Not even the trees with their triangle stumps or the hexagonal rocks. The pink meteor dashed and crashed over the entire place until nothing remained but dust from the town and meteor. A great wind from the mouth of a titan then blew the dust away and no one would ever remember that the little town ever existed.

Today's #flashfiction Future Archaeology

“Just remember to be yourself.”

Rich Little* #quote

If you had a genie, but couldn't wish for more wishes, couldn't you wish for more magical requests? I dunno, I'd have to ask a genie lawyer. And I know there's one because there's a lawyer for everything. Anyway onto the flash fiction!

Future Archaeology

          The year was 2300, or the year 63 in the new calender that the current nations adopted. World War III did not treat society well. Nations burned and knowledge needed to be scraped together from the shambles. Archeology now focused on gathering the information on technology of generations past with things like dinosaurs being ignored for something like the page of an old book. One such archeologist, a woman named Hanna Green, wore a radiation suit while traversing the ruins of a city.         She saw broken pieces of a hover car. The archeologists who brought one of those back became famous, people couldn't manage to get it running, but that archeologist became extraordinarily famous.

        The most intact thing she found was a house. Only half of it was obliterated. She examined the building. Furniture. Roasted like usual. Then something glowing by a window. Flat like paper. No, thicker. A book? How could a book glow?

        The blue light of the thing she found met her blue eyes. She stumbled upon a cellphone. One of the solar powered models that were released before the start of World War III. She assumed it was some kind of flashlight, though how it still had power was beyond her. The science of electricity were just being rediscovered and this didn't follow the rules she knew. The touchscreen was barley responsive, but she still managed to access photographs of the old user and begin playing a game. When she found these features she put the pieces together that she found the legendary cellphone that her colleagues talked about. The near magical device of instant communication of the old era.

She looked at the girl in the photographs on the cellphone and thanked her. The relic from all those years ago would make her famous.  

Today's #flashfiction The Time-Outs Of The Mischievous Gods

“With great power comes great responsibility.”

Nero* #quote

If you subtract an equal sign from a pound sign do you wind up with two ones, or eleven? Anyway onto the flash fiction!

The Time-Outs Of The Mischievous Gods

Terrible gods damage Earth that only their parents keep them at bay.

Causing a meteor to strike?

Time-out for a naughty god.

Natural disasters striking?

Time-outs for naughty gods!

Plagues?

The black plauge, smallpox, polio or otherwise, is just a time-out for a naughty god.

The parent's of the gods would give time-outs of decades, centuries or more.

The gods would often do good too with things like fair weather, and plentiful crops.

But disaster struck based on when a naughty, mischievous young god got out of time-out.

Today's #flashfiction Knightlyness

“Keep it simple.”

Rube Goldberg* #quote

Hanged out with CJ today and worked on the game, also having a good deal of fun. Anyway onto the flash fiction!

Knightlyness

          When your young you learn about things. Things like chivalry. I learned about it from a great knight named Sir Grahn a long time ago. I didn't know the word for chivalry so in my head I could only call it “knightlyness”. It was the best word my six year old brain could invent for it.

          I learned of Sir Grahn's knightlyness from the way he walked and talked. The way he treated the people of my village when he arrived in our kingdom. With his position he could have looked down upon us but he treated us well. He walked with us like someone walked with nobility. I learned of Sir Grahn's knightlyness when he gave our village some gold to help us through a drought. I learned the most of his knightlyness when the bandits attacked and he died defending us from them.  

Today's #flashfiction This Computer Isn't Big Enough For The Both Of Us

“Drink responsibly.”

Dionysus* #quote

CJ's coming over today so I'm certain that everything should be a dandy adventure minus any possible diplomatic issues with societies of evil twins. Anyway onto the flash fiction!

This Computer Isn't Big Enough For The Both Of Us

          “This computer isn't big enough for the both of us Worm.”

          “I agree, I won't let a lowly Trojan take it form himself.”

           The two computer viruses sat on data files, scowling at each other while fields of the computer owner's pictures surrounded them. The owner loved taking pictures of her puppy and filled the hard drive with images of its cute face. The viruses carefully moved through the mass of fur and cute eyes while watching the other virus's moves. The virus's body resembled a human's but made with a glowing, computer-world Velcro for skin that allowed them to latch onto to computer data.

            The Trojan told the worm, “Let's not make this messy. This computer's RAM and data storage is mine to replicate with. You can find another Worm.” Viruses only knew or cared to name and call each other by their virus types. They even identified themselves that way because of their nature of mass replication. With a life of mass replication came a loss of individuality.

            The Worm grabbed one of the pictures of the puppy and corrupted the file, tearing it in two. “This is what will happen to you if you don't leave this computer to me.”

           The Trojan then said, “No, I have to take this computer it is what I have to do. For myself!” The Trojan attacked. Again the virus identified itself as its type and not itself, so self preservation only mattered if it involved further replication. The viruses wrestled each other. The files around them corrupted as they tussled and tried to strangle each other. In the midst of combat the Worm looked up with fear. The Trojan found this baffling since the expression didn't match the fury the Worm been fighting with. He almost took advantage of the opportunity left by the opening but his own curiosity caused him to look up.

         A mouse hovered above them. He wondered how long it'd been up there. Selecting them. He heard a faint typing noise in the distance. Could they not hear it because of their fighting? The Trojan could no longer wonder about this since in the next instant he was deleted.

Today's #flashfiction The Other Raven

 “I love that new car smell.”

Tow Mater, Cars* #quote

       Tomorrow CJ will probably be coming over which should be fun to a level of 10 on a scale from A to Blue. Anyway onto the flash fiction!

The Other Raven

        A raven flew through the sky. It ended its flight by perching on a tree in a park that saddled the side of a large lake. A bench laid under the tree with a couple on it. They smiled. The man just proposed. She said yes. True love bound them.

       “Forevermore,” said the raven.

Today's #flashfiction Nobody Cares

 “A penny for your thoughts?”

Professor X, X-Men* #quote

If reality is subjective, then the subject today is Social Studies. Anyway onto the flash fiction!

Nobody Cares

          “Why are you wasting your time marking the walls Zogk?” asked one caveman who huddled close to the fire. He couldn't fathom why anyone would distance themselves any reasonable distance away from the fire in their cave when the wonderful scent of cooking meat came from it.

           Zogk, hairy faced and wrapped in furs besides his head and arm poking out responded, “I am making today's hunt.” Zogk's finger was covered with a paint, a crude paint of his invention. Ever since he started thinking about how mud stayed on someone and left marks when they moved he wanted to create something that would last longer and be easy to put on the cave walls. He spent a few months making shapes and mixtures to create a black paint.

         “How can you make a hunt?” asked another one of the cavemen. A cavewoman held a child that silently watched what he did and understood it better than the adults.

         “Watch.” Zogk made pictures of stick figures with spears and pictures to represent the animals they hunted. The others in the cave watched in silence. “This is today's hunt.” He then pointed to each of the stick figures and named who they were supposed to be. “And these are the animals we hunted today.”

           One of the bigger cavemen in the group laughed, “That's it? We were all there! What's the point of marking the walls to show something we were all there for?”

Zogk then replied, “Our descendants could see the marks showing our hunt.”

         “Ha!” The large caveman slapped his knee, “That is why we tell the stories! Then the stories are told again by our children to our children's children. Nobody cares or will care about your cave markings!”

          Thousands and thousands of years later archeologist's study the cave paintings, study them, and marvel at what they considered, a leap in cultural and technological progress. With the invention of photographs during the cave's rediscovery the hunt of Zogk and his tribe was known through the world.

Today's #flashfiction Snow Blight

 “Well, on the tour, the film said they used frog DNA to fill in the gene sequence gaps. They mutated the dinosaur genetic code and blended it with that of a frog's. Now, some West African frogs have been known to spontaneously change sex from male to female in a single sex environment. Malcolm was right. Look...Life found a way.”

Barney And Friends* #quote

If you ever play “Red Light, Green Light” with someone be sure to shout “purple light” and see what they do. Anyway onto the flash fiction!

Snow Blight

         “Mirror, mirror on the wall...who has the ugliest heart of them all?” asked the Sorceress, protector of the lands and advisor to the twelve kings in time of crisis. An eye appeared inside her magic mirror and looked at her, it could compliment her beauty and dress, but being a summoned being it felt like answering the questions given to it as soon as possible so it could go back to its realm more important than any small talk.

         The mirror told the Sorceress, “Snow Blight, the witch of the Sickness Mountains is the one with the ugliest heart of them all.”

         The Sorceress asked her next question, “Is Snow Blight dangerous?”

         “If her and her seven imps are not stopped, then she could hurt the people of these lands.” Immediately after hearing this the Sorceress turned away from the mirror. She would have no one, especially someone as powerful as a witch, hurting the people of these lands.

          The Sorceress went to her cauldron and put her pepper colored hands into the spices of magic. She brewed potion after potion and prepared spell after spell. She wouldn't let the witch get her with any surprises. The last spells created in her spell room were teleporation spells and she sent herself straight to Snow Blight.

          She found Snow Blight in front of her house, an old woman with gray hair, pale skin, warts and mouth with only half-full with teeth. Seven red imps helped her garden. The garden looked innocent enough, but the Sorceress saw that the ingredients for incredibly vile spells grew in the garden.

         “Oh, hello dear,” said Snow Blight smiling. The red imps smiled and bowed too.

          The Sorceress didn't hesitate, she started casting spells, opening potions and pouring their liquids into the ground to summon incredible power. Snow Blight responded with great power, pulling out a wand full of dark power that countered the spells and nuetralized the light spells. The Sorceress was glad for not underestimating her foe. However as the battle waged on the red imps joined in and attacked by throwing rocks. The simple extra distraction prevented the Sorceress from casting a vital spell and she knew that the strongest offensive spells in her arsenal were depleted.

         “You may have stopped those spells, but enchanted apple increases the magic power of anyone tenfold. I'll eat it and you'll fall easily before me,” The Sorceress smiled and held the apple in front of her face. One of the seven imps snatched it from her and gives it to Snow Blight.

           Snow Blight cackled, “Now I'll be the stronger one and you'll fall with ease!” she then took a bite of the apple and fell into a sleeping curse. With the master gone the seven imps vanished. The Sorceress left Snow Blight to her eternal slumber.

Today's #flashfiction Mad Without Power

 “Take things at face value.”

Sigmund Freud* #quote

CJ should be coming over this weekend. So that'll be fun, we'll be working on my game together. It's good to have a friend helping on such a big undertaking. Anyway onto the flash fiction!

Mad Without Power

          Whatever drove Oliver off the deep end happened somewhere between the loss of his job and the loss of his loved one. Though the seed of madness always resided somewhere in in. He now barely scraped a living at whatever jobs he could take wearing a normal, likable, sane face. When he got home he tried to vent his frustration out on what he could. Stick figures.

           A man without artistic talent and unable to afford much he bought paper and pencil to draw out crude representations of what frustrated him. Or, later, as time went on an imaginary land that he decided he controlled. Where all the stick figures he drew listened to him. It was somewhere close back to his old job of executive. If the investments that he put the money in as an executive didn't go belly up he may have been able to afford plastic toys for the fantasy.

          He retreated into his realm. Controlling a wonderful world of his choosing. Erasing stick figures that didn't please him. Or turning them into strange monsters or whatever fate he was choosing. Everything fell into place for him. He didn't throw away the world he created. He considered the pages history. And they filled his apartment. Furniture and pages. The landlord assumed he was a struggling artist, and never looked at the contents of the pages.

           One day, when returning from a day of work Oliver saw a sign telling him to vote for a new senator. Normally he didn't pay these kinds of things much attention since he focused on either his job or his fantasy world, but someone had vandalized the sign. Graffiti of a stick figure with a dumb face, meant to mock the senator, gave Oliver a thought.

          “Maybe I should get into politics,” and so Oliver applied to work for politics and planned to go from the bottom up the very next day. A new world of stick figures awaited him.

Today's #flashfiction Falling Star

“Let me hold that for you.”

Atlas* #quote

         Been trying to work on animations for the game. Haven't completed anything super-substantial yet, as I'm still getting used to doing every technique and optimizing my process. My father also gave me a book on animation I'll read. Best work to do things right instead of rushing and doing things badly. I've also think I worked out one way to code the animations into the game. Not buying a “game engine” has forced me to make even the most rudimentary things from scratch. But those game engines can cost over a thousand dollars and/or royalties on your game when you start selling it. Anyway onto the flash fiction!

Falling Star

          A meteor flew through space, straight at the Earth. It stabs the atmosphere, turning into a blazing ball of fire and stone. By going through the destructive transformation the meteor gains the title meteorite and towards the ground. Besides light and sound themselves the only things that could contest the speed of the meteorite were jets and rockets. Nothing stood in the way of the meteorite while it moved along its path. So the two inch rock made a splash in the pool in the backyard of the Johnson's house.

Today's #flashfiction Waterpires

“Man is least himself when he talks in his own person. Give him a mask, and he will tell you the truth.”

Scooby-Doo* #quote

When you pay the piper are there coupons? Anyway onto the flash fiction!

Waterpires

         Warren belonged to perhaps the lamest of supernatural creatures, the waterpire. Sorcerers charting out the evolution of magical curses traced his being's line to that of the vampire, but the waterpire was far less intimidating. A creature cursed to wander the day and drink only water for sustenance, milk and beer could sicken or evil kill a waterpire. Moonlight burned the the waterpires and the creatures could be killed by being hit by a cooked steak.

         A waterpire passed Warren on his curse by pinching him, the way all waterpires make more waterpires since they cannot breed with each other or humans. This happened back in 1820 on one rainy England afternoon and he's lived up to the current digital age. He went from wearing fashionable English clothes to wearing the cheapest things he could buy.

         The creatures of the night mocked him at the times they met when twilight struck. But when the modern day came Warren decided to walk up to Dracula and some other vampire royalty while holding some bottled water and a cellphone. He hung it up in front of Dracula and smiled, this century gave the waterpire the comforts he needed for constant, clean water and a beautiful life in the day.

         “Oh, Dracula I was talking to my girlfriend. See, we waterpires can have those when we don't have to feed on people while running from a bunch of secret societies of monster hunters. Have fun with the next guy who tries to kill you.” Warren walked off, knowing very well that Dracula, despite all of his incredible powers, didn't have any cooked steak on him so he couldn't kill him. Dracula could beat him up, but then Dracula would be just showing the other vampire royalty how right he was. Warren loved the modern era.  

Today's #flashfiction Limbo

“Now this is a story all about how
My life got flipped, turned upside down...”

Gulliver's Travels* #quote

          Starting tomorrow or at least in the subsequent days, I'll begin creating the art for the characters in the game, to the point of creating the animations. Father has a device that shines a light under a drawing to project it onto the piece of paper above it so creating the various poses of a character after creating on initial drawing will be much, much, much easier. (Since this device allows tracing of my own art). This also means the pieces will be the same size. If I tried using a ruler to replicate I'd possibly be a bit off and even being a little off on things would look really awkward. After all, imagine watching something where the character's head changed size an incredibly small amount every animation frame. Anyway onto the flash fiction!

Limbo

          Ingrid awoke in front of a cliff. Her body still felt like hers but much lighter. When she looked down she noticed that she longer had skin. Or anything else. She was a skeleton. A standing a skeleton. Skeletons like her surrounded her, stretching far back into the distance. They stood as well.

          “New here huh? Welcome to Limbo. Land of the dead,” one of the skeletons said. Ingrid realized the last thing she remembered was getting in a car accident on the drive home from the birth of her granddaughter. “Stay as long as you like, or walk off the cliff if you'd like.”

           Ingrid took a closer look at the cliff and noticed that beyond on it an endless expanse of fog led onward. Forever forward. She saw cloudless sky in the distance, but the ground was a mystery The cliff felt more like a beach, since it extended endlessly in both directions to her sides.

She tried to cry but could only manage the sounds and not the tears. After a long time she managed to at least partially accept her death and then asked the other skeleton, “Why would you want to walk off the cliff?” The part of her soul that didn't accept the death assumed she was in a dream.

         “One of the cavemen said that it leads to the next part of the afterlife,” the other skeleton responded.

          Cavemen?”

         “People arrive here all the time, probably for all of time. Many jump off the cliff. But many stay. Even for that many years. Everything that touches the fog gets sucked in, and we can't dig into the ground to make tunnels to whatever surface, if there even is one, that the fog touches down on.”

Ingrid then asked, “Did the caveman ever say how he know's it leads to the next part of the afterlife? And why doesn't he go?”

         “He said a spirit told him when he first arrived. Considering how old he is, he could just be crazy. Even with the company of other people though, people a sort of cabin fever just standing around in a crowd forever. This place is only endless desert.”

Ingrid, trying to keep this still a dream, though more and more feeling this as reality. “So you can jump off the cliff, stay with everyone, or wander into the desert?”

        “Yeah. So do you believe in heaven and hell, or reincarnation? Are you ready to give it a shot?”

Ingrid, a woman who's lived through some of the toughest of times said, “I'll take the desert. I can always come back if I don't find anything.”

         Ingrid spent more than a hundred years walking the desert, trying to wake from the dream. She eventually returned to cliff. There she found the skeletons of her family. None of them, including her grandson, took the plunge into the fog. Because of the patience of her long walk she managed to reunite with her family and she spent eternity with them. Heaven may have been just a jump into the fog, but this was close enough for her.  

Today's #flashfiction Magical Monster Rally

“Don't toy with me.”

Buzz Lightyear* #quote

When you wake up to an alarm, does that make every morning alarming? Anyway onto the flash fiction!

Magical Monster Rally

          This SUNDAY, SUNDAY, SUNDAY, prepare to have your minds blown by the carnage that only monsters can bring! Down at Necromancy Stadium we've got dragons, griffons, golems and more ready to destroy and wreck everything they see. Our Tamers are thirsty for a show and are ready to tear the very fabric of space and time to summon the beasts you want to see for the mayhem that will make your heart pound.

          You'll see towers fall by the blows of troll clubs. You'll see dragons burn cars and stomp them beneath their feet. You'll see griffons carry objects hundreds of feet into the air and drop them to shatter on the ground below.

           And when will you see it?

          This SUNDAY, SUNDAY, SUNDAY!!!

Today's #flashfiction A Wet Mafia

 “Sometimes you have to stop and take a breather.”

Darth Vader* #quote

Tomorrow I'm heading over to grandma's and fixing it so that my blog posts get sent to her new email, as well as hang out with her for the day. It'll be funtastic! Anyway onto the flash fiction!

A Wet Mafia

        “Finly!” The fish mob boss yelled. “Take care of Mr. Rayson.”

        Rayson the manta ray replied cockily, “You really think you can get rid of me? Ha! You've got a ton of sea shells to your name, own a bunch of hunting grounds. A big bad, mob for cuttlefish fish like you and your family. This Finly guy's even a shark and a got a few shark buddies. Nice muscle.           But kill me? Even if you try to eat my whole body the blood will smelled for miles. I'm part of a much bigger mob than you.”

        The cuttlefish mob boss then said, “I expect this taken care of quickly.” The cuttlefish left and used his camouflage abilities to make himself scarce.

         Finly then said, “Oh, it's not my shark buddies that'll take care of you. I've got other friends for that. Octos!” Octopuses from the sands of the ocean floor emerged and grabbed Rayson, pinning him.

         “People will find my body!” Rayson said again, “They'll know who did it!”

         Finly said, “On again, you're going on about the body. Don't ya ever shut up? We're called the camouflage mob because we can hide the evidence of who we kill when we go beyond more than just simple prey. Did you even wonder how we hid the evidence?”

         The Octo's dragged Rayson to a part of the coral reef filled with human trash and oil that only a few hardy underwater plants inhabited. Then the Octo's pulled out a spare diver's air tank and some party balloons. Collaborating the octopuses used their many arms and finesse to start tying a few of the balloons around the manta ray, also while inflating them with air from the tank.

        “What is this, what are you doing?” The manta ray asked. When the octopuses let him go he started floating up to the surface. They then put the party balloons back in their container and hid them under some rocks along with the tank.

         Fishly then replied, “It's simple, you'll be sleeping with the humans tonight.”

Today's #flashfiction Young Magic

“Keep your head in the clouds and your feet on the ground.”

Mary Poppins* #quote

Today is yesterday's tomorrow. Taking that into account, what does that make Friday? Anyway onto the flash fiction!

Young Magic

           Clara sat at the table on her booster seat eagerly awaiting lunch. Lunch being one of the new words she recently managed to produce as she started to form language from her mouth. Her mother hoped that Clara wouldn't get anything in her pretty brown hair this meal.

          Her father walked over to the table with something like her bottle but much larger. Huge. It contained a large, dark liquid. Her father hadn't bought soda in a long time so this was the first time Clara ever saw it, since the last time he bought it he took it to a party. He twisted the cap open on the large container and started pouring the soda into his glass.

Clara knew liquids. She knew waters and juices. But when the soda hit the glass bubbles appeared.              The bottle was clear, so she knew the bubbles weren't inside there. She didn't understand carbonation so the soda created something from nothing. It defied the laws of the world. She expressed her wonder in the way that children with few verbal abilities express wonder and awe, she clapped in response to the amazing magic show.

        The mother looked at Clara's clapping and then turned to her husband, “Y'know, sometimes you just have to wonder what's running through their little heads.”

Today's #flashfiction Hardcore Rock

 “The pen is mightier than the sword.”

King Arthur* #quote

I wonder what the exchange rate for crossing the river Styx is. I want to know how much I should ask should be buried with me when I die. Anyway onto the flash fiction!

Hardcore Rock

            Nathan, a little gray rock, laid on the side of the hill while Lewis and Clark passed nearby. A few decades later a pioneer decided Nathan would make good building material. So the rock became stacked together sloppily by the pioneer into a house. No binding agent stuck him to the rocks nearby so pressure held the house together, along with the pioneer's prayers.

          Generations grew up inside that poorly made house. Nathan saw the birthdays of every child in the lineage of the pioneer. A sickness struck the area and the family died out. No one claimed the land for building until the roaring twenties. Build, build, build! The deep pockets of the rich called for demolition of the little house for a new property. Nathan saw other rock brothers destroyed in the process but he was thrown aside in the construction. A little rock next to a huge mansion.

          The economy collapsed and the rich worked hard to hold onto what wealth they could. The son of the owner of the mansion didn't have any toys to play with so he came outside. One day he found Nathan and threw him. The boy couldn't play with a ball, so he used the rock pretending he got “outs” by throwing curve balls on the best baseball players of the day.

          Nathan kept the boy company for quite some time, though was eventually forgotten like many toys. The owner eventually sold the mansion and the land because of property taxes. With the hill nearby being a pretty place to visit the land changed hands a few times until it became a humble little home.

         In the year twenty fifteen a pretty white dove, exhausted from old age, landed on the hill and took its last breath. A very young girl saw this dove and decided to bury it. She dug a hole on the hill and put the dove inside it, covering it with dirt. She noticed she didn't have a tombstone for the dove. That's when she remembered Nathan, that tiny gray rock in front of her house. It would fit the dove's resting place perfectly. So she went and took Nathan and placed him back on the hill to serve as the tombstone for the little bird.

        And Nathan laid there on that hill, content in his own inaction.  

Today's #flashfiction Another Sense

 “It's not delivery, it's DiGiorno.”

Chuck E. Cheese* #quote

Today I got a moving test enemy working in my game. It's not animated and just a still picture. But it chases my character when it gets close enough. I did other cool stuff too so lots of progress is being made. Anyway onto the flash fiction!

Another Sense

          “You have to keep your power a secret! Otherwise the government will run experiments on you!” Young Steven heard this in a cartoon, where his favorite superhero was given this sage advice. This was the gritty reboot of the series, which his parents were unaware, so the captured hero did have experiments performed on him. Still largely done off camera for TV it still scared little Steven.

         So Steven took the advice. His hero possessed many, many abilities. Steven possessed one that allowed him to see some things through walls like his hero did. But only things like computers or power lines. Or people's brains. Steven could perceive the movement of electricity. Steven didn't know what kind of mutation allowed his body to do this. But it was a constant truth of life just as much as sight.

        In a world of electricity this ability became hard to censor. Hard to hide. He knew if someone left the lights on and where. For someone else it'd be like if no one could smell and if something rot they'd be the only ones to know. A good memory usually became people's explanation for these things. Steven developed a “knack” for electronics from a young age. They assumed it was intellectual intuition. He didn't tell them he could sense the problem. He knew the spark plug was broken because it was as obvious to him as a deflated tire on a car.

        His perception of electricity only became better and better. He began to be able to read computers a little, and people. These things went fast. Like trying to read words on pages falling on a waterfall. Patterns could be made though. In people some electrical patterns showed lies. If he spent long enough analyzing it he could make out some data on a computer, though decoding it fell beyond his ability. This was at his teenage years.

        During adulthood, when he didn't have to pretend he couldn't perceive electricity he could pick apart the world more closely without looking over his shoulder. He focused on computers and became a computer whisperer.

         Steven decided to test everything he knew after years. He walked into a bank. Everything on all the computers he could see. All the zeroes and ones. If only he knew how to decode it! He knew how to read things on computers normally, but encrypted things like the bank's information was beyond him. No! He thought to himself. He took this as a challenge to see if he could see all that information at once. Not to steal it.

         A woman then approached him. She, a police officer, prepared to tackle him because of the thick computer tablet he carried in his pocket. Steven didn't realize the odd way that he was standing there made him look strangely suspicious and the way he looked more and more nervous made him appear like a bank robber and the thick computer tablet was thick enough to be a gun until she got a better look at the shape.

        An awkward conversation later led to a date. A few more dates led to a relationship. That relationship led to marriage. That marriage led to a cemented love. Five years into the marriage Steven finally told his wife the secret of his perception of electricity.

        “Dear, I'm a detective. I figured it out a year after we started dating.”  

Today's #flashfiction Happy Thoughts

 “Everyone is created equal.”

Professor X, X-Men* #quote

Sometimes you get to the chopper. Sometimes you get to the car. Sometimes you get to the bus. Sometimes you even get to the bicycle. Anyway onto the flash fiction!

Happy Thoughts

            A little tiny happy thought popped deep inside Damien's head. His sister Jasmine created it by reminding him of a time they shared together playing at the park near their house. A dark thought crushed that thought. Jasmine kept speaking to Damien on the rainy night he called her and pulled out another happy memory of another time they spent together. The dark thoughts that filled Damiens head, ones of stress, doubt, self-hate and everything that makes the mind weak crushed that one. His sister kept talking to him. Kept bringing up memories of him with not only her, but memories of her with family. She told him to think of all that can be.

          Jasmine created every happy thought she could and eventually the happy thoughts pushed away the dark. They also made his hand pull the gun he held away from his head. Renewed with the experience of happy thoughts after that rainy night he kept seeking more with the help of his sister and eventually on his own. The dark thoughts never forced a gun to head again.