Friday, April 28, 2017

Cracked Flash: Year 2, Week 37

Okay, if results aren't up yet for W36: I apologize. I've come down with something and I'm really struggling (read: failing) to keep on top of judging and school and everything. I've reached out to our other judges to see if they have some free time to get W37 judged. In the meantime, W36 results are on the way (hang in there! <3). 

Here are some rules c:

Judge: TBD

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 (4/29)!

Results announced: Next Thursday 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).)


"You're my favorite monster."


  1. Hi all, I'll be judging this week! Happy writing.

  2. Mr. Meowsker's Bright Idea
    by Sara Codair (@shatteredsmooth and
    265 Words

    "You're my favorite monster," said Annnaly, running her fingers over Gruffer’s fluffy face. The black cat perched on here shoulder leaned forward and licked the bridge of his nose.

    Gruffer made a noise - a cross between a grunt and a huff - it was the only noise he ever made, but Annnaly imagined that if he was capable of human speech, he would be saying “Was?”

    Nerves twined through her chest like poison ivy. She leaned her forehead against his, cupping his flat face in her hands. “The government says I can’t keep you. The made monster collections illegal. They...they want me to put you down.”

    Tears streamed out of Annnaly’s eyes, dragging a river of black and blue cosmetic sludge from her face to Gruffers. She held his face, sobbing, not caring that Mr. Meowsker climbed off of her and onto Gruffer. She didn’t know what he did until she felt two enormous paws patting her back.

    Looking up, she saw Mr. Meowsker proudly perched on Gruffer’s hear with his restrains dangling from his mouth. A smile cracked across her lips. “You brilliant feline.”

    Mr. Meowsker purred like a motorcycle.

    When the inspectors came to make sure Annnaly, the lady with the largest collection on the planet, had put down all her monsters, they were greeted by a hoard of hungry teeth and claws, not the taxidermied corpses they expected.

    Annaly wanted to taxidermy the inspectors and keep them as trophies, mementos from the first day of the coup, but there was literally nothing left by the time the monsters were done with them.

  3. Words: 299

    Beneath the Bed

    “You’re my favourite, Monster,” Lisa said to the shadowy lump beneath her bed and smiled. Her two front teeth were missing and she was holding another tooth in the palm of her hand.
    “There is no reason for you to be afraid of the tooth fairy, okay?” she said. “She’s a nice fairy who’ll bring me money and then tomorrow we can go buy candy.”
    There’s a snapping of teeth and a scrabbling of nails beneath the bed as Monster tried to catch a stray bug that had found its way there.
    “Okay?” she asked again. Monster had become awfully quiet and agitated since the tooth fairy started showing up.
    “Okay,” a voice rumbled from beneath the bed. “Can we have chocolate, Lisa?”
    The little girl nodded, blew Monster a kiss, and pushed a small teddy bear beneath the bed before she jumped onto the bed and placed the tooth beneath her pillow.
    Monster crept further into the shadows, hugging the teddy tightly, when Mom came to say goodnight and shivered with the knowledge of what was going to happen during the night.

    The witching hour came much too soon and, with it, monsters like the bogeyman, shadow man, and the tooth fairy. She entered the room through the window. A thin sliver of nothingness that took on the form of Lisa’s mother as she neared the bed and picked up the tooth. Monster held his breath.
    “What of yours do you give me in return for her safety, Monster?” she hissed.
    “Two years of my time with her,” Monster answered. It was always two years.
    A banknote was shoved beneath the pillow. “I accept.”
    The tooth fairy slipped out of the room again, her passing only a whisper in the wind.
    Beneath the bed sounded Monster’s muffled crying.

  4. Words: 287

    Favorite Monster

    “You’re my favorite monster, Bernice,” Irene said.

    Bernice demurred as best she could, though her mobile features betrayed her complex thoughts. “Is it the new shade of lipstick? I think it really speaks to Tennyson’s ‘red in tooth and claw’ ideal.”

    “Definitely the new lipstick.”

    The two women, tea cups raised, released an infectious burst of high-pitched laughter.

    Irene held up a small paper bag. “Lemon drop?”

    Bernice reached for the bag.

    “Cut” shouted the director. “That will do for today, ladies. Good work.”

    “Did you really mean it?” the young woman who played Bernice asked her on-screen partner as they walked to their cars.

    The shorter actress looked confused. “What?” She found this new girl unnerving somehow, though their on-screen chemistry was undeniable. She’d changed, become too intense in recent weeks.

    “I’m your favorite monster.” She’d crossed the distance between their cars too quickly.

    “It was the line on the que card.” She backed up feeling her personal space invaded.
    Bernice was on her in a flash. “It’s not really the lipstick, is it?”

    The shorter actress froze. “Just like blood . . .” She stared at Bernice’s mouth apparently in a trance.

    “Here, dear, let’s go in my car.” If anyone had been watching, they’d have thought the two had decided to go shopping together, or for a meal, or a movie, leaving one car behind to collect later. And they would have been right.

    The actress who played Irene died in the parking lot behind Wells Fargo. When the production company assembled the following weekend, however, Irene was there, as before, laughing and joking with Bernice. She was brigher, somehow, and looked as enigmatic as her partner. Their blood-red lips were flawless.

  5. AJ Aguilar-van der Merwe
    298 words


    “You’re my favorite monster then,” I said, grinning.

    Evan had a somber look. “I’m serious, Erlinda.” He paused. “Or, you actually believe I’m a monster.”

    “Don’t worry about what people say.” People at the party had stared at Evan. I was only unsure if it was hate or fear I saw. Or both. “Smile,” I urged. “You need a hug.” As I hugged him, I had a premonition.

    Fortunately, I was used to my visions already. I didn’t want to alarm him. Another good thing was that we were saying goodbye. Rush home, Erlinda,” I told myself. Those people could see what I couldn’t. This friend can’t stay.

    At home, I quickly prepared a space to receive the most divine power. Candles and incense burning, my spell in hand and my other hand reached to the heavens, I chanted:

    Oh divine ancestors
    With boundless powers
    I call unto thee
    Your faithful descendant
    In need of assistance
    Stands before you with a plea
    A wicked warlock present
    Pure evil possessed
    Death he intends for me
    Oh great mother of all witches
    Your powers grant unto me
    From evil deliver me
    Oh divine, protect me
    In your hands I place my trust
    With my grateful heart I thank thee

    Moments later, I heard light footsteps. I reassured myself that I was prepared. I stood up slowly and turned. “Evan, what are you doing here?” I asked, feigning surprise.

    “Oh, I know you’re expecting me. I’m here for your powers. And your life.” Fist clenched in front of him, ring aimed at me, he sent fire and smoke towards me.

    Instinctively, I extended my arms in front of me, palms facing him. My hands reflected back his own fire and smoke. He banished himself.

  6. Sian Brighal
    298 words

    No One Else

    “You’re my favourite monster.”

    The doctor paused on the way out, feeling his neck muscles burn in protest as he kept his head facing forward. He’d been warned—and rightly so—not to react to such words: always maintain a professional distance. Only when the door closed and the lock clicked did he relax and turn.

    “Odd thing to say.”

    “She says that sometimes,” the orderly muttered in answer.

    “Why would she?” the doctor mused.

    “Trying to soothe ruffled feathers, I think.”

    “But why would she think I could be angry with her?”

    “Don’t rightly know,” he demurred, but the doctor saw something ghost across his face: fear, pity. “Spoke out of turn, sorry.”

    He would have questioned further, but a colleague left the room next door. “Hey, Barrows,” the newcomer called out before glancing across to the neighbouring room. “Don’t tell me old Hoskins has got you working on Scary Mary,” he said with a sympathetic tone but smiling mouth.


    “Oh, just some stupid mumbo-jumbo,” the man soothed.

    But Barrows had heard about ‘Scary Mary’; heard that she’d been linked in some superstitious way to the deaths of several doctors, orderlies and visitors, but he’d thought she was some story from the asylum’s deep and darker history.

    Later, at home, he spent a few minutes thinking about Mary, wondering why she’d single him out as a favourite; they'd never spoken before, but he couldn't deny that he'd seen some flicker of interest in her eyes. Was that it? But the more he thought, he couldn't help but feel that she'd been speaking not to him, but to her tattered bunny.

    “She was,” hissed a voice in his ear as cold, invisible and inhumanly strong fingers wound around his throat. “I am and always will be her favourite...her only!”

  7. @HomemadeHalo
    300 words

    The Drake

    "You're my favourite monster!" I whined, looking up into the three pairs of gigantic eyes.
    "Who's a good boy? Who's a good boy?"
    I tried to keep the fear out of my voice while pretending in my mind I was talking to my old dane Brutus back on earth, instead of the three headed Ceberus towering before me that protected the gates of Hades of which I was desperately trying to escape out of.

    From way behind me, at the end of the mountainous underground tunnel which was faintly lit by red luminous hot stones, and which dipped, burrowing down into the earth at the end, I heard the noise of all hell breaking loose. My word, he sounded angry!

    Discovery must have been made of my flight, and worse, what I had done! This was not going to end well for me at this rate!

    I had bested the dark foggy fields of No Memories. I had the River Styx to worry about, on how to get the ferryman to take me in the opposite direction away from this dastardly place. Every moment wasted here only increased the risk of my capture. I dare not linger here for long.
    I shook my head playfully at the dog, as if wagging my imaginary tail, and what was it's greatest strength proved in the end to be it's greatest weakness, as each head started competing with the others for my attention. I tickled behind the ears of one head and then another, before I had the great beast on its back as I played with its tummy.
    It seems sacrificing an arm had not proved necessary after all.
    I suddenly heard him scream my name, and fear spurred me to start running again.

    I should never have slept with his wife.

  8. Benjamin Langley
    The Green-Eyed Monster's Lament
    214 words

    “You’re my favorite monster.”
    Her words keep ringing in my ears and bouncing around my heads. How could she say such things? My life is so full of woe! My hearts are so heavy! She used to say that to me while stimulating my antennae and giving my proboscis a tweak. When was the last time she’d even given me so much as a satisfied smile for the screams I’d harvested for her?
    How could she say such things to him, Benetoni? What had he done to deserve her praise? There was nothing scary about his comical short tusks. His single eye gave him no depth perception whatsoever so he barely carried a threat. The children he visits are more likely to laugh at him that scream.
    Laughter. Maybe that was what she wants these days. She’s changed since the dark lord’s awakening. Maybe he’s delivering enough darkness to satisfy her soul and she just needs a bit of light relief.
    I feel such a fool. These fake mustaches are clearly not made for head like mine. One's wedged under the nose of my left head and is getting absolutely slathered in mucus. Still, maybe that will make them funnier. Maybe those will make her laugh. Maybe I can be her favorite monster again.