Flash Fiction Month – 1

April 04, 2011 By: Christopher D. Eldridge Category: Flash Fiction, Writing Craft

April is spring time. A time of new beginnings. A time when many animals give birth, trees bud, and flowers bloom. For me, as a writer, I would consider college to be my spring and more specifically, my April. This is the time when I first found my voice.

So in honor of the first real month of spring, I am going to have an entire month dedicated to flash fiction. This is because my favorite creative writing professor in college challenged me, a long-winded epic fantasy writer, to create short stories of around five hundred words or less. I came to enjoy these weekly exercises,  and writing such succinct literary pieces, helped me to find my voice as a writer.

The Living Dead © 2000

It’s amazing how fast your life can change. Eternity is now but an instant. The blink of an eye. The moment before a scream. One never believes in such things, in such horrors, in such mind twisted games. Even now the blaring horn screams in my ears—it is the only sound in my world . . .

Their voices sang out to me, a trio of disharmony calling out to be saved. But he would not have it, for his archaic scythe found its mark:

Little girl, so innocent and pure, mangled by the metal legs of man; a greed-driven wealth on rubber wheels guided by an intoxicated hand. Quick and easy it peeled the skin from the rabbit’s back, cooked the flesh upon the bone. All the while writhing still alive. The hunter danced through the living grass. His sharpened blade felling everything in sight.

Growing boy, so potent and unaware, broken by the crystal eyes of man; flying through a world of shattered hopes once clear, now dressed in sanguine garb. Like razors it kissed your skin, red lips upon flesh. It was there to meet you—the black breast of civilization, of unity and communication. There to open your thoughts, to spill the contents of your mind.

Aging woman, so loving and adoring, crushed by the protecting arms of man; life collapsing upon you, smothering your flickering flame; crimson words flowed from your mouth. Your utterance of goodbye. Your breath quenched like a spark beneath a storm.

My world is the white I stare into every day; memories are my only sight. Motionless I lie, feeble and useless. Machines are my breath, my brain, my life. The ambience of pain is no longer in the body, but in a representation of the mind.

4 Comments to “Flash Fiction Month – 1”

  1. Laura Chick says:

    Your words create such vivid pictures in my mind, almost like watching a movie in living color, as it unfolds to us in black and white. We can see ourselves in your words, as our life passes us by. Aging woman or little girl, it reaches into my soul as I read these words of yours.
    And it fills me with a longing to live life to the very fullest! For we never know when it can all be taken away, in an instant we are reduced to nothing more than a flickering flame, with God in charge of our last breath. Thank you for capturing the frailty of humanity….and the life of a writer, who gives up his own life so others can live through him! Wow, Chris, you really blow my mind. I remember the little boy….now the man with the gift. Tender are your words that touch my soul!
    As always, I am your biggest fan….. In red lipstick!

  2. Chris Deviln says:

    Wow, really powerful! It’s a great exercise for those of us who write long, to cut it down and say less. Good job.

  3. Wow, you can write flash fiction… (just kidding!)

    Your story is beautiful word poetry :^)

  4. Thanks. I love writing poetic prose. One day I’m hoping to write an entire novel in poetic prose–a psychological thriller about death.


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