Greetings and salutations, faithful follower of my blog! Welcome back to another Story Time With Tim! This week, I’ve got some flash fiction offerings for you. Yeah, I still have some poems coming, so don’t worry about that. I also still intend on putting up my novel sometime soon. That one being Mass Effect 3 ReImagined that I wrote for my wife some years ago. So, keep an eye out for that. I think right now I’m just trying to get this series through the end of the year and I may start putting that up in the beginning of the new year: January 2022.
For now, here are some real short stories I wrote most in the mid aughts with the last one being earlier this year as of writing. That one was for a contest that never went anywhere. I’ll give a brief description of each one with the comment section beneath the piece.
Hope you enjoy and thanks for reading!
A Little Quickie
In an underground dungeon, two beings are locked away against their will. Shackles adorn their arms until one of those individuals manages to get free and streak away. Captain Kirk to runaway skeleton, “Bones, come back here!”
A Little Quickie was based on a quick animation I was going to do. However, I was never able to animate it so I just made it a strange little flash fiction. Alright, next up.
Use The Force
The day was peaceful, the sun shining. Birds sang happily. Then, it rang out. An explosive rumbling the likes never heard before. The park, the state, the nation, the whole of the world trembled under the potent energy having been released. And then silence.
One man stood atop a high hill staring down at the chaos around him. Car alarms were blazing in the background, birds were dazed, and hundreds of pedestrians were lying on their backs unconscious. He viewed his bottle of soda and exclaimed, “Daaaaaammmmmnnnnn!!!”
The soda’s warning label was right, Croaker Cola may lead to explosive belching.
Use The Force was another little flash fiction based on an animation I was going to do. Never got around to this one either. It was supposed to be for a Robot Chickenesque show that I was writing scripts for called the Dream Master. Just some guy who walks to the top of a hill drinking a soda and belches really, really loud. Cool stuff.
The ruckus was deafening as Red Roy the apple walked into the main hall where the party was being held. It was a bachelorette bash for Cathy Cantaloupe who was getting married on Saturday.
He hadn’t been there five minutes, perusing the other fruits who were mingling in a mix of chaotic revelry, when Oletta Orange looked in his direction and started making googly eyes. Red Roy smiled a wry grin knowing she was his for the taking.
Oletta took that as a good sign and rolled his way. Red Roy found her appealing in ways he never thought possible, let alone imagined. He took her in with lust filled eyes, imagining how juicy that beautiful Orange must be.
“Hey there, gorgeous,” Oletta Orange spoke tantalizingly. “My name’s Oletta, what’s yours?”
“Red Roy, luscious. But you can call me Big Red. Let’s go upstairs and make a fruit salad.”
“Oh my!” she squealed with a giggle.
A scream filled the air and silence rang out. Red Roy and Oletta looked towards the commotion and saw a banana laying on the floor.
“Someone’s bruised Billy Banana!” a voice shouted.
Big Red’s eyes went wide in horror. They had a fruit batterer on the loose.
So, Pulp Friction was a writing exercise done in my creative writing class back when I was attending Wright State. The whole idea was to take a concept and write a five minute story based on it. Somehow, a bowl of fruit became the subject matter at hand and lo and behold Pulp Friction was born. I have a script based on it that I wanted to turn into an animated series, but, just like the other two offerings, I just never got around to it.
And last but certainly not least:
Don’t Forget The Salt
He stood there staring through the abyss realizing what was completely off. To his chagrin, he’d misread the recipe. Rather than utilizing a pinch of salt, he ended up putting a toss of salt into the pot of writhing, worming noodles. Now, the snarling slug awaited him at the doorway, beckoning him through to its world. Dozens of curse words rose up through his mouth. But only once the looming creature had him firmly in its maw did he realize that one, simple truth: a truly good meal needs to be properly salted.
Uh-oh, he thought. I’m not thoroughly salted.
Alright, so Don’t Forget the Salt was an entry into a Horror In January contest and this was my entry. I think it was for Scribophile. No matter. It didn’t really get anywhere anyhow. I think it’s amusing myself but nobody reading seemed to get it. Oh well. C’est la vie.
And there you have it. I appreciate your coming around this week and checking out my latest offering! Come back next week and I’ll probably have some poems for you. Why was this week so long and with so many flash fictions being offered? Well, I don’t know. They’re so short and I thought just grouping them together would be fun for once. Anyhow, read to you all again soon.
~Timothy S Purvis
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