Lucid Dreams and Saturn Skies The Life and Writing of Andrew Kincaid

Tag Archives: Flash Fiction

Forays into Flash Fiction: The Black-Eyed Kids

April 11, 2013 3:44 pm / 2 Comments /

Once again, Angela Goff has inspired a bit of microfiction with her Visual Dares. She said that she was looking forward to seeing my entry this week, and I hope it doesn’t disappoint. I modified the theme a bit (you can see the photo that inspired this at Angela’s blog, Anonymous Legacy) to include one of my favorite modern urban legends — the Black Eyed Kids. Enjoy!

***

Night had fallen, and I had just slipped into my easy chair after a long day’s work.

Someone knocked on my door.

“Who could that be?” I grumbled, wondering at the same time why a feeling of cold dread had settled in my gut. It grew as I approached the door and opened it.

Two children, a boy and a girl, dressed in clothing from another century stood on my doorstep.

“Can I help you?” I said, voice quivering.

“May we use your telephone?” the boy said. The girl stared at me, silent.

I nearly said yes, despite my fear. They’re just kids, I thought.

Then I noticed their eyes.

They were completely black.

Needless to say, I didn’t let them in.

Now every knock gives me a panic attack. I can’t step outside without wondering if those black-eyed kids are nearby. Watching…

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Forays into Flash Fiction: Harbinger

February 26, 2013 8:54 pm / 4 Comments /

In lieu of a regular blog post, I’m dusting off my flash fiction section and presenting another one of my super short stories. This is again inspired by the lovely Angela Goff’s VisDare. I strongly suggest you check it out if you have any interest in trying flash fiction. It’s a fun time and good for helping you become more concise. Without further ado, I present “Harbinger”:

***

Everyone in these parts know that the black and white cat with its too bright eyes means Death.

Nobody knows where it came from. It just drifted into town like a thunderhead in summertime. People who’ve seen it and lived long enough to tell claim you feel its eyes on you first, drilling into your back like twin augurs. The itch is so strong you can’t help but turn and look. Then it has you.

Oh and there’s one other thing too–dogs don’t much like it. There are lots of them these days, since cats make folks nervous. They make a big fuss when He comes around, yelping like someone lit a fire under their paws.

I write this with an itch between my shoulder blades and howling in my ears. I’m shaking, trying to fight the urge to look. Maybe just a peek…

***

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Forays Into Flash Fiction: VisDare 4: Steps

January 29, 2013 7:17 am / 3 Comments /

Visdare 4--StepsSo I’ve been meaning to try flash fiction for awhile now. For those who are wondering what in the heck I am talking about, flash fiction is a form of short story.  A REALLY short story.  As in, less than 1000 words short (usually somewhere between 100 and 200 words).  There’s not much room for character development, obviously.  Some people aren’t fond of the name “flash fiction” for whatever reason.  It’s probably called that because it’s short as, well, a flash.  But call it microfiction if you like–the name doesn’t matter.  What does is that it’s fun and I’ve found I enjoy doing it, so with the exception of today’s post I’m going to start a semi-regular Saturday installment on this blog where I showcase my flash fiction, called Forays into Flash Fiction (because alliteration!).

I can thank the lovely Angela Goff for getting me into the genre.  I’ve seen her hashtag #visdare for awhile now, and it got me curious if I could write a story like that.  You can learn more about it (and Angela) by following this link to her blog.  Now, without further ado, here is my first ever flash fiction story, “Hunger”:

***

Sound. Light.

Its sensory organs, long adapted to the absolute darkness and silence of its prison, stirred in response to the stimuli. Bit by bit, its body awakened from the long, cold, dreamless slumber that had been imposed upon it countless eons before.

The sounds coming from above, echoing down the long, grime slick tunnel leading to its tomb, were unfamiliar to it.

“Come on Gary.  Put your back into it! The gold’s so close I can smell it.”

“Smells like an outhouse in mid-summer to me,” the other voice said.

It couldn’t understand the words, but that was irrelevant. What mattered was the new sensation stirring within its slowly awakening body: hunger.

Fully awakened now, it slouched upright and watched the expanding pool of light spill across the floor.
It waited, eager to see what bounty this new age had to offer.

It didn’t wait long.

***

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