Muddy Stars

a Chuck Wendig flash fiction challenge (208 words) here

I sat at my tiny table, a cup of hot green tea in one hand. The table was perched at the northern corner, on my two square meter balcony. Seventeenth story. The wind was icy, but I had great view. A view other people payed for: to my right, the blueish white blotch of  Mount Fuji, to my left, the soft silvern gleaming of the ocean.

Around my apartment building the beads of streetlights and headlights of cars stretched as pulsating arteries of Tokyo. Although it was only about four o’clock pm, it was dark already. The stars and the full moon hid behind thick grey clouds. This January evening  brought the scent of snow.

As the first flakes drifted by, I caught a glimpse of movement. Finally! It was the ghost light of a fox, heading this way. What trouble will you cause, my friend?

As His Majesties first Magician at Court, I had to keep the spiritual peace in the city. A mischievous little fox meant nothing good. They kept sticking their noses into the emperor’s business.

I thought of my tea. Really, it was a sin to let it cool out, but I had work to do.

 

The Crow of Nine-World

a Chuck Wendig prompt (245 words)- here

It’s starting to snow. Got the lighter ready in my hand, just about to spit sparks and flames. My cig catches fire.

I’m waiting for Ira at the entrance of his apartment building. He’s supposed to show up forty minutes ago. He isn’t answering his phone either.

It’s not that he wants to be picked up, or something… I walk him down to the theater cause he gets mugged. The first couple of times he goes on his own, he gets beat up, robbed, and a car hits him. Not good showing up with a bloody nose and a black eye, when being the lead.

Theater folk is superstitious. He’s jinx. So they pay me to get him safely to the rehearsals.

Ira says he’s cursed. Bullshit! That’s what I say, but I’m only the janitor. One time I ask about his bad luck. He says, it’s his gramps fault.

One day, him being a toddler, he wanders off and disappears in the woods.

They can’t find him. For three days. They are about to give up, when a huge white crow appears. His gramps shoots that bird. Where it falls to the ground, they find him. Unconscious. Hurt.

He shows me his chest, pulling the neck of his T-shirt down.  A small circular snow white scar flashes on his breastbone.

He gives me a grave look. His gramps taints his destiny that day.

He can’t fly away from trouble anymore.

River Mask

a Chuck Wendig prompt (209 w)- here

I pulled the car into a parking lot, and killed the motor. My head was spinning, since I left the highway.

I breathed.

My forehead touched the steering wheel. It’s cool soothed my headache. The long wooden mask, I bought hours ago, sat beside me in the passenger seat. It’s dry hair was made of some kind of weed, smelt of rain and mud.

“Breathe.” The words fell into my lap. I obeyed, slowly forcing the air in and out of my lungs, counting. One. Inhale. Two. Hold air in. One. Exhale. Two. Keep air out. One. Inhale.

I sat up and threw the driver’s door open. My head and stomach felt hot, my hands and feet were icy. I tried to keep the blazing sun out of my eyes, by squeezing them shut. It didn’t help.

The murmur of the river seemed too distant, although I parked directly at the shore.  Steps approached, sloshed through mud.  Something wet touched my cheek. My eyes flew open. A man had his cold hand on my forehead. The bright made it impossible to see his face. I felt better, though.

“Finally. Took you long enough to get here.” I knew that voice. He sounded like me.

 

The BookFeet

a chuck wendig prompt (204 words) - here

I had my notebook and a pencil safely tucked away in my parka. A glance at my wrist showed it was 9:30 pm. Right on time, this time at least… I relied on the weather report, which said no snow, no rain.

Between Houston Street, Canal Street and South Ferry Station was something I dubbed the Triangle of Uncanny. I’ve been down here for nearly a weird week, every night.  I’ve been exploring the streets, the parks towards the Hudson, taking notes. Today was Teardrop Park on schedule.

The triangle… That thing kept spitting out huge dark figures, gestalten, weird shops, I never was able to located during the day. The empty streets were as inviting as ever. That never failed to get the writing juice flowing. I heard the Hudson ahead, licking at the piers and walls of River Terrace.

A young girl, not older than twelve stood at the entrance of the park, waiting for me. Her straight dark  was hair tied back, her bright sand colored eyes beamed at me. “Welcome to the moonlight market, pilgrim. Password. Please.” She smiled a broad, nearly friendly smile.

“Uh…” I said, and remembered what that hobo screamed at me. “Uhm…BookFeet?”

Out of the Carnival and the Soul

a Chuck Wendig prompt (202 words) - here

“Pablo? Wake up, you’re gonna be late again.”

Only one person says my name like that. That soft, honey like sound, the smile at the end of the sentence. She always used her smile as punctuation.

So thirsty…

My love is gone, and I’m alone with a big ass hangover, sprawled on the couch. “Gimme five more,” I mumble out of habit, only five more minutes…Damn Carnival, I drank enough to pass out.  How did I make it back then?

I try to remember her scent and pretend I can reach out, and touch her hand, to hear her breathe. Maria…

But she’s gone.

Forever.

Killed.

I had the strangest dream. I have made a bargain with an old gipsy last night. My smile and my soul for another body and soul. I still hear the old man laughing his head off…

“Come on, hon.” The couch moves, a weight shifts to hoover over mine. Fingertips  and a brush of coconut scented hair brush my cheek? What? “Did I scare you?” I… I can’t believe it!

“Maria… How?” She’s here? Her warmths under my palm, her face… It’s real!

“Oh, sleepyhead. It was just a bad dream.”

 

cold ‘n’ empty

cold ‘n’ empty
  • content warning (language, violence)

 

You are in serious trouble, when you are on foot and heading to the meanest part of town.

Blue Hill, the dangerous. Not one day without headlines of murder and mugging in Blue Hill, the bellybutton of mayhem. The tabloids are full with that kind of crap.

Well, it’s not that they aren’t right… They certainly are, but that doesn’t even scratch the surface.

And you are the one who knows that, far too well. Continue reading “cold ‘n’ empty”

HAUNTED HUNTER

HAUNTED HUNTER
A Chuck Wendig prompt - 2036 words
genre: supernatural horror - found footage

***

With a flicker of blue light, the screen comes to life. It’s evening, the streetlights flare on. The lens zooms in on an old, abandoned looking house, with bashed in windows on ground level. There is a wooden porch with some missing slats.

Someone smokes there. A little red dot gleams lazily just above the handrail.

There they are…“ A male voice whispers to himself. “Showtime.” A bush winks into the field of view. A shadow moves in front of the ember. Suddenly the cameraman shrinks behind the bush.

Click. The frame blacks out. Continue reading “HAUNTED HUNTER”

Meet Steve Garner, the rotten golden apple

A Chuck Wendig Prompt - create a character (about 250 words)
Hint: The man answering the phone is Steve Garner.

“`Llo?” The man answering the phone sounds drained. His crumpled voice seeps through the landline.

“Hi. I am Vincent.”

“So?” Drowsiness dissipates slowly, “nobody’s perfect.”

“You’re looking for me.”

“Am I?” A soft slapping noise in the distance, “enlighten me. Please.”

“Do you remember Mr. Stanculescu and his two daughters?” Vincent waits for a response. No recognition on the other end, so he continues, “you know, the strange girl with the red mane and green eyes, one missing upper incisor? Was all over the newspapers.” Nothing. “The one legged kid, who disappeared for three days?” Silence. “The cabin at Lake Eden?”

“Oh. Lake Eden! Of course!” The voice tightens, picks up momentum and rhythm. “I remember laughing so hard I couldn’t breathe, just imagine that. A one legged kid hopping around on the shore and the woods, like an oversized toad– ”

“I brought her back.” The amused chuckle fades into stunned silence.

“You? You– ” The man stutters in disbelief, “did that?” A sharp clacking sound echoes. Porcelain hitting porcelain, or maybe teeth hitting teeth. “How fast can you be here?Where can we meet?”

“You remember him now, huh? He says it’s important…”

“Yes, absolutely.” The breathed voice cracks. It is a bit too fast, for someone still needing to negotiate a fee. The man proceeds to attack. “May I invite you? No limits, just tell me what you need. A room, a flight, cars, booze, women… Men. You name it.”

only weakness

only weakness

A Chuck Wending flash fiction prompt – (about 2000 words) – 

“IT’S X MEETS Y!”

Indiana Jones meets The Matrix 

*

“Yo! Meathead! Cut me loose! And while at it, stop using my air!” Mall detectives became easier to outsmart when mad. I did my very best to annoy this one. One of my specialties! I was nearly done with the cuffs, just needed a little bit more time… Just a little bit more… My masking hologram was doing fine. I didn’t look like myself. While being busted, you better look like someone else. Shopping mall security men weren’t exactly what you’d call smart. “Do I see a brain-fart forming in that vacant room you call skull? It is! Lots of space between your ears- Say do you have an echo, when you’re thinking? Is it for rent? Where can I sign up fo-“

The first bashed into my face, jammed the rest of the sentence back into my throat. Couldn’t breathe nor swallow.   That was too fast! So fast! The room washed black, the sounds ran from my ears. The world shrunk… Shit! If I passed out, I was in serious trouble. The cracking sound surprised me even more. Nose went to pieces. My head took an attempt to fly off. “Ah, fuck.” The coppery taste made me gag. This mall detective had the shortest fuse I ever saw, and I wasn’t prepared for it. Than it hit me. Realization yanked me back into consciousness!

That wasn’t a – detective… Not a human, not anymore. Oh, fuck…

This was a host! A meat fingerpuppet. A parasite infested vlaipo! A friggin’ vlaipo! Dammit! Explained the speed. That punch was from another world… Hurts. Hell!

Continue reading “only weakness”