FlashFeeD 1.13

Wishing you all a very Happy New Year!

New story prompt below.

Full rules here:

No specific instructions this week – just have creative fun.




Stories will be limited to 2000 characters* (about 300 words), including the title.

*(The field itself will allow for 2050 characters, but this extra 50 characters is only to be used as contingency and it won't be increased).

Use the comment field to post stories, include your story title. Use the reply button on a particular story to provide positive feedback. Press the ‘like’ icon if you like a story.



25 Replies to “FlashFeeD 1.13”

  1. Alva Holland

    My Friend, Daphne

    Our blonde curls melted into the waving corn sheaves as the wind wafted its silent vigorous breath through the fields, giving them life and purpose.

    Our giggles floated above the waving stalks, scaring away the treasures we craved on our quest to capture the remnants of summer – the elusive moth with the stained-glass wings.

    Daphne’s wiry legs carried her effortlessly through the corn while I struggled to keep up, my short arms aching as I stretched them high above the greenery, ducking and diving as my net on a stick was buffeted about above my head.

    Daphne’s blue stick disappeared.

    ‘Daphne!’ I shouted. ‘Where are you? I can’t see you.’

    From the encircling wave of green stalks sprang a mass of blonde spirals, her chubby fingers clutching the closed netting.
    ‘I got one,’ she screeched.

    ‘Let me see,’ I cried.

    And the diaphanous trophy escaped, soaring again to freedom.

    ‘Pooh-Sticks!’ Daphne spluttered, never having grasped my favourite river game.

    ‘Pooh-Sticks!’ she muttered again. ‘It was perfect, with wings of blue glass.’

    Plonking ourselves down on the crackly bed of corn sheaf detritus, our breaths returned.

    ‘Meg! ‘Megan Marie Hall, where are you? I hope you’re not in the cornfield again. Megan! Come here this instant.’

    ‘Time for me to go, Daphne. If you find another glass-winged beauty, catch it for me.’

    ‘There you are! Come on Meg, time for tea. Who were you talking to?’

    ‘Daphne. You don’t know her. She appears only for me, sometimes in the cornfield, always in the mirror.’


  2. I remember.

    They try to tell me it’s not true, but I know better. I know because I remember.

    I was eight. That day Dad took me to work. That had never happened before, so I was really excited, because Dad was a Marine Biologist. It had taken me a long time to learn to say it correctly, but I had, and it sounded amazing. But when we arrived, he left me in a room with a lady and told me he’d pick me up later.

    Of course, I escaped.

    Why nobody saw me, or found me before it happened, I don’t know. But I reached the Pond. I heard them call it so, later: the Pond. All I saw was a giant glass wall, and beyond, water. It was like the pictures of the bottom of the sea I had seen in Dad’s books, only there was nothing here but rocks and weeds.

    I put my nose against the glass to try and see better, my arms above me, the palms of my hands against the cold surface.



    Then he came.

    A creature like nothing I had ever seen before. At first I thought he was a mermaid, but I didn’t know of male mermaids. And he had no fish tail. He swam effortlessly. On the other side of the glass, he put his face against mine, no nose and unblinking eyes. He put his palmed hands where I had mine.

    And I heard him in my mind.

    “Help me.”

    Then Dad arrived, with many other people, all questioning me at the same time. There were scientists with lab coats and men in suits and soldiers, and as they shouted, he swam away and disappeared.

    I said nothing.

    But I remember.

    Today I finally help him.


  3. David Shakes
    I slam my hands upon the cold mirror as if to break its icy surface and pluck her from time’s waters. She floats there – somewhere beyond my reflection, and to see her breaks my heart, though that is all that breaks – my body has not the strength to complete the task I’ve set myself.
    I press my ear to the silvered glass and listen. Her faint song aches my soul and asks of me the impossible – I cannot go to where I am called. There is anger towards father in her song, but there is a begrudging love there too, for without him there would be no me.
    I look once again in the mirror, but now my black eyes see only my reflection, and the song I hear is the cacophonous roar of waves mixed with the plaintive cries of gulls outside. As I leave our shack, the wind whips up and pushes the salt spray deep into my pores.
    Father is there, as he always is – his body on the jetty but his mind lost in the past. His red eyes scan the horizon, as if at any minute she’ll ride a white horse to the shore – though in his heart he knows that will never be – it broke long before mine.
    I take his hand and escort him back to the shack where I’ll light a fire and make a broth. We pass his fishing boat, half buried in the sand. He will not venture beyond the wading pools these days. I look over my shoulder at the crashing waves, but there’s nothing on the tide and nothing on the horizon.


  4. Field Trip

    It felt wrong. We’d discussed it in class earlier this week and the tension remained. Mr. Martyn had attempted to reconcile the viewpoints but there was a clear divide. Our eyes locked together and I felt the familiar surge of guilt. Kyle was knocking the glass beside me and sniggering with cruelty. Mr. Martyn barked at him and the knocking ceased. The flicker on his lips remained though, reflected in the glass.
    I’d shared my feelings with dad in the car. He was sympathetic but in much the same way as Mr. Martyn had done, gently but firmly steered me towards the socially accepted wisdom. Preservation was crucial to avoid extinction. Forced captivity ensured safety and enabled future generations to benefit. Scientific advancements and medical understanding and knowledge were moving forward rapidly. It was hard to argue with all of these and whilst I’d done just that many times the response was always the same. It’s just the way things are.
    Those eyes though. They contained emotion and understanding. It felt wrong.
    Mr. Martyn must have sensed my discomfort. He moved towards me with the gentle look on his face that I had come to seek out when I was troubled. His voice little more than a whisper he reassured me that not everyone agreed with the zoological solution and that alternatives were being explored. We’d talk more later he said.
    Rising he turned to the class and gathered us back together as a group.
    “You have had the opportunity to observe the infant,” he began. “We will now make our way to the adolescent enclosure. The female of the species undergoes many changes in these years and it is important that you learn the process so that you are fully prepared.”
    The silent eyes stared curiously as we turned away.


  5. Sitting

    Diane walked over to the two-way mirror and pressed herself against the glass, wishing she could step through it to the other side. Back to the little girl she had been.

    “Do the bad people sit in that room, Daddy?” she’d asked when he’d brought her to work that day.

    “Not all the time,” he’d said, stroking her hair gently. She remembered his touch, protective, loving. A strong man who’d not only protected her but the rest of society.

    A cough drew her back to the present and she sat herself down at the scratched and bare table. She didn’t know the officer in front of her, had lost touch with those who’d worked at her father’s station since his retirement, since his illness had kept him – kept them both – housebound. Last night, she had cooked her father his favourite casserole for their final meal together and then she had carried out the promise she had made on his diagnosis.

    Now, as she sat there with his ghost, she felt his hand stroke her hair once more.


    1. Oh I love this, Steph. Love the softness and caring of it, the memories, the problem whatever it is, bubbling beneath the surface and the evil of illness which takes away those we love. Gorgeous story.


  6. It’s Never A Shame About Ray

    Christiane pressed her nose hard against the glass, knowing the closer she got the less reflections she’d see. Sara, sat in down with a steaming coffee welcoming the rare silence of minutes she’d have whilst Christiane stared into the blue. She was glad David was upstairs with Simon who’d be going batshit crazy by now watching the sharks navigate the Blue Pool; sharks appeared to be boy things.

    Sara breathed in the aroma of the coffee and thought of hot climates, what she wouldn’t do to be on the slopes of a coffee plantation in Costa Rica. Still, since the Blue Pool Aquarium had opened so close to them she at least had a realistic getaway for the kids which always delivered. She was thankful too for the crush Kevin the manager had on her at High School though, she wouldn’t be able to afford to keep coming if it wasn’t for his blind eye – though it was his roving eye which was of more concern and she never wanted to ask about Special Offers he kept mentioning.

    Christiane hadn’t moved in minutes, she was in her special place happy to wait, wondering if her nose would bounce back into it’s proper place when she moved away but she wasn’t going to move until she’d seen the stingray. She’d caught glimpses of eels and even a small hammer-head and there were little shoals of bright shiny fish flickering past her bent nose trying to grab her attention. But she was having none of it.

    A squeal of delight brought Sara back into the room, Costa Rica a million miles away.

    “Mum, mum. He’s here, look!”

    The majestic ray burst out of the rocky cave and headed towards Christiane before banking left the fins slowly rippling. It was entrancing and other worldly, Sara could see Christiane’s attraction to Ray.

    “I can see him, love. He’s beautiful. I think he’s come to see you.”

    “Can we take him home, mum?”

    Sara laughed. “Our bath isn’t big enough, Christy. Anyway think of everyone else who wants to see him. Everybody loves Ray.”


  7. Lisa took the Center’s elevator to the lowest floor. She could feel the change from wall to dirt as the carriage descended into the earth. All she could see was what was visible by the single orange dome light on the roof: an armed guard standing to attention next to her.

    The carriage hit the floor and the doors parted. Lisa stepped out followed by her escort. They walked the long passageway to a clear panel in the wall. She glanced back at the guard. He stopped, though he kept a hand on his holstered weapon. Lisa walked over to the panel and saw a myriad fish of all kinds from little guppies to bass, rays, and squid, swimming around carelessly, chasing other fish, and hunting for food among the rocks at the bottom. Lisa leaned against the panel, her eyes searching the water for something.

    Then it appeared, drifting toward her. Translucent, but solid enough to cause the fish to scatter. She looked just like Lisa. She even leaned on the plastic panel in the same position as Lisa.

    Lisa smiled.

    “Hey, sister,” she said. The ghostly image on the other side just stared back. Lisa wanted to touch her, but she knew it was impossible. “How are you?” No response.

    All too soon it was time for Lisa to return to her cabin in the Center. She waved to her doppelganger as she drifted back among the fish. In just a few weeks, the other Lisa will be no more. A long goodbye. Chairman Slate’s cruel punishment for daring to have a twin.


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