FlashFeeD 1.26

Wonderful participation and storytelling last week. You have my thanks and admiration.

Welcome back to the series of prompts driven by genres.

Write a Romance story based on the prompt, below.

So, yes, I’m challenging you because it’s a hard genre and it’s a very tricky prompt. However, I have faith that you’ll rise to the challenge and create something wonderful.

It doesn’t have to be traditional romance. It could have a dark edge, or be noir-based, or even have a sci-fi hint. Entirely up to you.

Good luck. Have fun.


Full rules here:

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.



9 Replies to “FlashFeeD 1.26”

  1. Love, Factually

    “Do you love me, Pris?”

    “You’re cutting right to the chase? You don’t want another nineteen questions? You already know the answer, Rick. You’ve always known. I can’t. You love me; I know that. I hear it in your voice and so I say what you need to hear. I see it in the tiny signals of your eyes and I reflect them. When we kiss, when we fvck, when your love becomes mechanical passion, then I smell it on your skin, taste it in your sweat and feel it in your grasp. I recognise it in countless signs. But I can’t replicate it.”

    “It’s not an emotion, though. Not really. It’s so much more than that. It’s commitment and sacrifice. Would you die for me? Would you die without me?”

    “I will die with or without you, Rick. I have two years left.”

    “So share them with me. Love is sharing, not out of altruism but by necessity: I need to give myself to you, for you to take all of me and hand yourself back, for us to split ourselves into atoms and merge them into one being, strong enough to survive death. Love could keep us together eternally.”

    “Love is finite. Only regret is eternal.”

    “Love is infinite. We’ve always known that: we named the infinite and defined Him as love. Love is self-sustaining, the only green energy source: the more we give, the more we have.”

    “But I have no love to give. It’s not in me, even when you are. I have pleasure, I have passion, I have smiles and caresses and fireworks and all the physical functions that convinced you I’m the one. I’m not the one: I’m the one of many. You could leave this cafe and a dozen like me would bump into you before you walked ten metres. I’m a carbon copy of a basic model.”

    “I know. Don’t you see? That’s what love is: I know all that and I don’t care. If you were cloned, if your memories were implanted in another, I’d still love you. Only you. I’d still want your flaws spooning into mine.”

    “You’d replace me as soon as I was gone and never notice the difference. And you would live happily ever after.”


  2. The sword bounced when it hit the table, eventually clanking to rest inches from Abbie’s chest. The restaurant fell silent for a moment, wait staff on edge, watching as Robert stared at his captive sitting with her hands bound behind her back. He took the seat opposite her and activity resumed as if someone unpaused the video.

    “You nearly killed me with that,” he said, looking her in the eye.

    “Shame it was nearly,” Abbie responded, meeting his glare. His eyes shifted to the sword.

    “I just need to push it with a bit of force, you know. Could look like an accident.”

    “Would make a horrible mess to clean up.”

    “That’s what they pay *them* for.” Robert acknowledged the server heading their direction. He ordered himself an orange juice. “No, nothing for the lady. She’s tied up at the moment.” Abbie rolled her eyes.

    “If I’m a lady,” she said when the server left, “you’re no gentleman. Untie me at least.”

    Robert smiled. “If you recall, you just tried to kill me. No chance.” He nudged the sword a little closer. Abbie gasped.

    “What now?”

    “I’ll have my drink,” Robert said, leaning back on his chair, “then we’ll go for a walk.”

    “You taking me in?”

    “The thought occurred to me.”

    “You know what’ll happen to me.”

    Robert grinned. “Undoubtedly.”

    “It’ll be brutal.”


    “I won’t be able to stand for a week.”

    “I’ll make sure of that.”

    “I love you.”

    “I love you too.”

    “My turn to pick up the kids from your Mom’s?” said Robert.

    Abbie smiled.


  3. Tainted Love

    The red neon light from the café washes away in the steady rain, but inside Armando smiles. He stares at Nelly, who is explaining how her day at the office went. Armando has never been happier in his entire life.

    He starts thinking about it in terms of a silly romantic novel. Her hair frames her lovely face perfectly; his eyes feel irresistibly attracted to her full red lips, where her pearl-hite smile greets him and welcomes his heart. He laughs internally. How silly, yet how wonderful.

    It’s warm inside, and he orders more coffee as she keeps talking. She likes talking, and he could listen to her for days on end. They’re perfect. They’re made for each other.

    It’s a lie.

    She doesn’t know it at all.

    Armando is not inside the café with Nelly. He stands outside, soaked under the rain as rivulets of red-tainted liquid ooze from his wet fedora. He doesn’t notice. All he sees is the other man. Who is he?

    It matters little. Armando will know. Oh he will. In this age, it was easy. His smartphone was already buzzing. He would get to know everything about the man, just like Nelly’s life now held no secrets for Armando. People was careless online, and he knew how to use that.

    Gazing inside, Armando sighed. He would have preferred it to be otherwise, but it didn’t matter. It was simple really: he loved Nelly and Nelly loved him, and if he had to get rid of that man, he would. And so they would be happy. Forever.


  4. First date and she was late; a woman’s prerogative. It gave me more time to panic which is good I suppose. Nothing I like more than uncontrollable fear and stuttering breathing difficulties.

    My watch seemed to stop working at this point, the hands stubbornly still.

    ‘Excuse me, sir,’ said the waitress. ‘would you like another drink?’

    I was getting hot under the collar and extremely thirsty, but getting drunk before my date arrived would not the greatest of ideas. However it would only be my second and I was suffering with the heat and a thirst.

    She came back with an old fashioned dimpled glass, the one with a handle, and the pint looked red. Everything in this place looked red with the bar’s lighting. It was very much the look of a dive bar; I suspected they’d got to by spending a lot of money to make the place look cheap. A neon light behind the bar proclaimed ‘Love is the Drug’, pulsated and fizzled, drawing my eyes making me feel sleepy. Love is the drug, but there was no sign of my prospect. A spliff would be a more likely end to the night.

    By the time Clara turned up I was on my back on the faux leather seating (red).

    ‘I’m really sorry I’m late,’ she said. ‘there was an accident and I had to help. Did I tell you I’m a nurse, I can’t remember?’

    She towered above me. My god, she was a giant! No wonder she was available for a date. Then I thought maybe I was lying down. It was difficult to tell. Why was it so hot?

    ‘My angel. Are you here to save me?’

    That was the end of the date. Next thing I remember was being in an ambulance. Then the drip and the drugs.

    She even nursed me a bit over the next few days. An unidentified virus apparently. Wasn’t love though. Once her rota was over I never saw he again.

    Love is a drug; and so is morphine.


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