Friday, April 7, 2017

Cracked Flash: Year 2, Week 34!

Judge: Marj or Mars

Word Count: 300 max

How: Submit your stories as a comment to this post, along with your name, word count, and title (and Twitter handle or blog if you've got 'em!). One entry per person.

Deadline: Midnight Tonight, PDT (4/8)!

Results announced: Next Wednesday afternoon.

Remember: Your entry must begin with the prompt! The prompt can be mutilated, but not beyond recognition. (Pictures do not need to be incorporated into your stories; they're for inspiration (and amusement).)


"Oh, everyone just thought you were crazy."


  1. Trickster
    By Ronel Janse van Vuuren
    218 words

    ‘Oh, everyone just thought you were crazy,’ the green-skinned Pixie said, grinning from ear-to-ear. ‘I mean, who would’ve thought that a knight would have such a great singing-voice?’

    The pounding in Dylan’s ears drowned out the music, the laughter of the partygoers and everything else except for Michael’s face. He wanted to draw his sword and…

    Exhaling slowly, he brought his feelings under control.

    ‘Really? And here I thought that someone would’ve figured out that it was one of your pranks,’ he answered, trying his best to sound bored.

    Michael kept on laughing.

    A pretty girl with pointy ears offered them a tray filled with sparkly drinks. Dylan accepted one and so did the Pixie. Grinning, the knight downed his. The trickster next to him never even noticed when his drink went from green to blue.

    ‘The drinks aren’t supposed to react like that…’ the pretty waitress said worriedly next to Dylan as they watched Michael’s antics among the patrons of the Fae-only club.

    He chuckled as the trickster did backflips and only spoke in word salad. The drink had caused him to live through every prank he’d ever pulled. Dylan couldn’t wait until Michael started to sing everything he wanted to say – just like he had to only hours earlier.

    ‘Don’t worry. He’s just a little crazy.’

  2. Indiscretion
    300 words, @GriffithsKL

    "Oh, everyone just thought you were crazy," the intake nurse winked at me as she tightened the cinches on my straight jacket.

    "I had to use the restroom," I said, "Real bad."

    "That's what got you into this mess," the nurse said, "no pun intended. One can't just indiscriminately... well, you know. People jump to conclusions."

    My shoelaces peeked out of her pocket, and certainly my necklace was in that same pocket. I could feel the slimy coldness of drool sliding down my chin and I wondered why she didn't dab at it with the handy towel she kept tucked into her belt for just such occasions. Hers was lightning white, smooth, clearly never used. Why wasn't that a red flag for someone? Who was in charge?

    "Did you give me something?" I asked, "I don't usually drool like this." I hoped my hint would get her to wipe my face, my own arms being unavailable and all.

    "...nurse?" I said.

    She seemed to be struggling with an uncooperative clasp, but it was awfully convenient she had an excuse to ignore me.

    "Did you drug me?" I asked, raising my voice.

    "We gave you an anti-diarrhea... there." She had finally gotten whatever piece of my contraption stymied her. The room teetered back and forth.

    "My necklace," I managed, "It was a gift."

    "A gift? How thoughtful of you. I'll keep it always," she patted her pocket, and I noticed her smile turned wicked. A wave of horrible understanding crashed over me.

    "When can I go home?"

    "When you can use the bathroom like a big girl... and when everybody agrees you're not crazy." She winked. Or was that a nervous tic?

    "All I did was use the men's room. It was vacant."

    "Yes, well. You're not a man, are you?"

  3. A Gossamer Sip of Poison

    300 attempts at conciliation

    "Oh, everyone just thought you were crazy," she thrusts, her enormous teeth, sashimi knives, sharp, slashing, cutting away.

    Yes, she shimmies like a mad carver, voraciously slicing at my waiting, weary flesh.

    “Everyone?” Can that be, I wonder?

    I must say something to counter her broad, abrasive strokes. I know she is prone to exaggeration but, like so many skilled dissemblers, she prefers to build her tallish tales on a stable foundation.

    “Well,” I sense some equivocation from her, some minor walking back to a steadier fabrication, “Only those who know you.“

    “My friends?” I ask, not surprized.

    “MY friends,” she argues. “YOU have no friends. Our friends are now MINE.”

    My lawyer, a young Sharkette from one town over, had suggested Sylvia and I meet to discuss the distribution of the spoils of our lives. Bright and unexpectedly honest, she had said, “The Courtroom can be an abattoir. You did leave her. Your position is weak, no matter how cruel you try to portray her. It is always best to cut your losses.”

    I doubted my lawyer’s wisdom but she made a practical point.

    I called Sylvia.

    She was willing to meet.

    “A neutral location,” the Sharkette had also advised. “With witnesses.”

    So, I asked where Sylvia would be comfortable convening with me.

    “Here,” she answered, “where we once lived together.”

    “Ah,” I started to fretfully dance a bit.

    “Come for lunch. You still like my cooking, don’t you?”

    And, of course, I did.

    And here we were.

    Lunch rolled out. Perfection. Fried oysters. My favourite.
    Not hers. Clam Chowder as well, and biscuits. Sourdough.

    All very amiable.

    Even when my stomach starts to pulsate.

    My eyes burn.

    My cough uncontrollable.

    “The oysters? Might they be off?” I choke out.

    “Oh darling,” she snickers. “I sincerely hope not.”

  4. Everyone just thought you were crazy to collapse at such an important event said my manager sitting on the vacant chair beside my hospital bed. *Good grief why are you here?*

    I mean I know we are behind on salaries but this makes the agency look bad. We have lost some solid clients. Word on the street is we do not take employee welfare serious. *Thanks for caring so much about me. I feel loved already.*

    There will be an inquiry you know. Some officials I never heard about will be looking into our operations. *And you are scared they will see you for the corrupt leech you are.*

    You got to say that collapsing shit is all on you James. Please. Like you got some kind of disease that doctors said can’t affect your work. I was reading this post….*God this man is mental.*

    I’ll do everything you say boss. *See his wide grin now. You must think James is a complete buffoon.*

    Oh yes James he said winking at me and running his fat palms across his faded jeans. I knew I could count on you. *Oh God what a horrible person.*

    Of course all outstanding wages will be paid double and there’s a little raise for you should you remain with us. *You are going to fire me you ogre.*

    I have to go now and suddenly remembering something important he turned; the inquiry is on the 24th but no worries since we already know what you will say. We will show them hahaha.

    No you monkey I said to myself after. You will be stunned. I’ll be fainting again at the inquiry. I pulled out the IV line and waited for my voluntary discharge papers.

    Why get well when being sick was so much more profitable?

  5. Nancy Beach
    289 Words

    The Illusion of Reality

    "Oh, everyone just thought you were crazy." Kendal’s last words rung in her ears as the barred door clanked behind her. Not anymore. Never again. His charm would never again whittle into her brain making truth fluid. Jessica knew other couples dreamed of growing old together. Her dreams left her drenched in sweat, heart pounding. Sadness mingled with relief as her nightmare unfolded into reality before her eyes.

    She shivered as she remembered looking down the barrel of the gun. How had she been so blind? It was like he had some sort of power over her mind. The smell of his salami breath assaulted her senses as he hissed at her. “If you repeat a word - one word, I will kill you.” The coldness in his steel blue eyes sent volts of terror through her body.

    She was the girl who lived a double life. The people at Chubby’s yesterday saw a couple at the booth sipping soda hands brushing as they passed the ketchup. No one could have imagined the monster that laid beneath the surface of Kendal. Naively, once, she had mustered her courage and told his sister the truth. That mistake had cost her ten stitches and a scar from her breastbone to her belly button. She still didn’t know how Kendal had found out. It was like he was omnipresent. After that, reality became fuzzy and confusing. He almost had her convinced she was the crazy one. Almost.

    The familiar sharp pain sliced through her chest. Taking a deep breath, she tried to calm her racing heart. She was safe now. Tomorrow he would pay. Tomorrow it would be all over. Tomorrow the world would know he was the crazy one and not her.