Saturday, August 12, 2017

Cracked Flash: Year 3, Week 3

Welcome to another round of Cracked Flash Fiction Competition!

Judge this week: Ronel

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.

Midnight tonight, PDT.

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).)


‘If you could even begin to comprehend where I’ve come from, you would be terrified of me.’


  1. Automatic door
    Automatic barrier
    site design
    Automatic automatic shutter
    Glass shutter (polycarbonate)
    Roller Gate Roller Blade
    Window shutter
    Aria dolphin merchants
    New Gate Company

    (in case anyone else was wondering)

  2. Words: 297

    A Crown of Grey and Red

    “If you could even begin to comprehend where I’ve come from, you would be terrified of me.”
    I took in the grey-haired woman in front of me. All in greens and browns she was dressed, but wore a cloak of ox blood red. Her hair was entwined with holly berries; a crown of red above a wrinkled face.
    “You should go back to town,” she said to me.
    “They sent me to gather the water this year.”
    “You?” she laughed. “You are too young.”
    I drew myself up to my full height. But even so I was noticeably short for my sixteen years.
    “They said she would be here to lead me into the woods to the water. The last girl.”
    “And what makes you think that I am not she?”
    “Because that was five years ago and you’re too…”
    “Old? The woods change you.” She stepped back into the shadows of the trees. “Are you coming or not?”
    I looked back at the town for a moment and clenched my jaw before following the woman.

    “They lie when they say it holds the power to give eternal youth, you know,” she said when we reached a spring surrounded by dried and ashen vegetation.
    “Then why do we come?”
    “Because the years we lose, they gain,” she said with nonchalance as she filled the bucket I had brought with water and started walking away.
    “And you will leave me here, to your fate?”
    She looked back. “If it means that I could see my son one more time before I die, yes.”

    On the elected day I, too, entwined berries in my greying hair and ambled to the edge of the woods I would at last be permitted to leave.
    A young girl already stood waiting.

  3. 300 of the greatest flash fiction words ever

    The Greatest Summit Ever: Peking, August 2017

    D.T.: If you could even BEGIN to comprehend where I’ve come from, you would be terrified of me.

    K.J-O.: Oh, Mister Baggy Western Baby Pants, I’ve got a pretty good sense of where you come from. You haven’t been all that circumspect.

    D.T.: Whaddaya talking? Maybe you aren’t such a smart cookie, after all. Like, I still have my foreskin. I still have ALL my parts. AND…my Doctor says I got the greatest foreskin ever…

    K.J-O.: Circumspect…not…you know…it means…guarded. Like, your life has been an open book.

    D.T.: I’ve written lots of books, that’s true. I open them all the time. I’m the greatest reader ever. But I’ll admit I’ve kept a little bit of me…whaddayasay…under wraps.

    K.J-O.: Where they belong. Secrecy is the key to power. Secrecy…and the willing to reduce your enemy into a sea of flames and ashes.

    D.T.: Zowie…a sea of flames and ashes…love that. Almost as good as my Fire and Fury.

    K.J-O.: Almost? Seriously, Mister President Donald? My Most Excellent Rhetoric Committee worked on my hyperbolic twaddle for months.

    D.T.: Look, Kimmy...

    K.J-O.: Please…Respect between World leaders is essential. That’s Mister Supreme Leader KIM.

    D.T.: Okay. I never apologize but, okay, fine. Back to basics. Mister Supreme Leader KIM, you can’t be threatening to blow up the world.

    K.J-O.: Look who’s talking, Mister Shoot-from-the-lip, Fire and Fury like the world has never seen! What’s with that? Sounds like blowing up the world to me. Sounds like blowing up MY world.

    D.T.: World Schmorld. Point is, we gotta make a deal. You’ve read my book, right?

    K.J-O.: That I have.

    D.T.: Main point…deliver the goods. We’re good-looking guys. The ladies love us. We’ve both got great hair. Our daddies got us started. We’re like brothers. Together, we’re the bomb. But only if it don’t explode.

  4. @2B_DrDavis
    298 Words

    The Adventures of Darius: Volume One:
    Chapter 13: In Which Thomas Decides to Challenge Darius to a Race Around the World. Poor Thomas; we Never Saw Him again

    If you could even begin to comprehend where I’ve come from, you would be terrified of me is what he wanted to say, but Joe just handed over his money and watched the mugger take off down an alley. He did not report it to the police. “That’s just pocket change, Joe,” is what his family would say with their hands stuck out or that sad sack look on their face when they needed Joe to pay for something.

    The truth was, after a series of bad investments, Joe was living out of a cardboard box in Boise, Idaho when someone had given him two dollars. He didn’t question it. He had lost everything already; with Melody gone, he was below rock bottom. He packed up, walked to the nearest Jackson’s, and bought the ticket.

    When he collected his “big win,” a total of $425 million dollars, he didn’t believe it. He had brought the ticket back to the Jackson’s where he had bought it. The clerk, Daniel, scanned the ticket and then froze. Daniel scanned it a couple more times. He did not look at Joe, but Joe was used to that by now; no one really noticed him back then when he was homeless. That night, Joe booked a room at The Grove. Lying there on the bed, inside the hotel, the occasional slam of a door the only noise, he thought of Melody; he thought of home, and what awaited him there should he decide to go back. He did not expect his family to be like vultures ever soaring over him and waiting for him to spill his cash like so many entrails. He would have liked them to be like the mugger, but lying there he only thought of the fortune to come.