Eighty Seventh Friday Flash: Waltzing Through Darkness

Waltzing through darkness

Eroding the soles

Tumble, tumble

Don't fear the rumble

A flash of wings

Too many to see

Together we will fly

Away from the watchful eye

Sanctuary we seek

To heal the things that leak

Warm and tight

You won't leave my sight

Braying and scathing

Trouble wishes to invade

With strength and cunning

Scars we will evade

Forever and more

I want nothing more

Eighty Sixth Friday Flash: Going Viral

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AP53 didn't know what to do. Everyone was infected. It just took the slightest touch and he would be infected too; doomed to lose all function every so often to sprout out 15 to 30 seconds of viral advert phrases like “50% off all stock.” “Act now!” “Gimble sausages are the tastiest you will ever eat.” “You are nothing if you don't own a Capone hat.” “Are you a loser? Then became a winner today with 72 easy monthly payments of $12.99.” It was enough to drive anyone mad.

Bizarrely no accidents had been caused by it yet, with the virus program seeming to recognize the user would be in a life threatening situation if it activated at the wrong moment, but people couldn't be busy all the time. Taking public transport was a nightmare with random slogans being thrown around continuously. 

Everything had been tried from root installs to total wipeouts. It was because the systems installing the restore points were infected too and just reloaded the virus. There were numerous “cures” out there, but all of them had been proved to be bogus conmen trying to make a quick buck.

But if AP53 didn't connect to the NETWORK soon he would lose his job and apartment. His supposed permanent connection AM69 had left him last week, saying he was against change and should just accept it. But why should he let large corporations hijack his body and turn him into walking billboard.

Most ignored it, they were so bombarded with adverts that they just didn't care anymore. A few had taken their lives because it was just too much. His friend ART78 had thrown himself into a garbage compactor just that morning. The police were at the door.

“Please sign this release form,” said the android officer. ART78 had left him his entire digital collection of movies and literature.

Shocked and operating on autopilot AP53 pressed his thumb to the electronic clipboard.

The door closed behind AP53 and ten seconds later he stopped dead still. “Are you a lonely bachelor and looking to settle down? Then look no further than 'Date an Officer.' Your number one source for meeting potential dates in uniform.”

Eighty Fourth Friday Flash: No Place Like Gnome

 Labour minister Reddish Green was in today to answer questions in the Upper House of Parliament.

"When will the exploitation of gnomes stop?" asked Fairly Apt the leader of the opposition party.

"What exploitation?"

"Ha! The list is endless! They are paid minimum wage to stand in front of people's homes to be stared at and made fun of. How can you not call that exploitation?"

"Nonsense! It's tradition and they enjoy it."

"How about the gnomes who are forced to smoke pipes? Some are asthmatic for crumb's sake!"

"No one is forcing them to smoke and if they wish they can always switch to the new electronic smoking pipes."

"Bah! What about the vegetarian gnomes that are forced to fish? It's against all their principles!" Fairly Apt shook his fist.

"They are not forced to do anything. This is a waste of everyone's time and besides they are not even fishing for real fish!"

"You are not taking this seriously, I will not stand by while these poor people are used and abused!"

"I don't know where you are getting your facts from! Gnomes have one of the strongest unions there are. If anything they have it too good!"

Fairly Apt smiled an evil little smile. "What about the rumours you kicked a defenceless gnome?"

"I did no such thing! Hang on a minute since when did the opposition party members start sporting beards?"

"Ah oh!" said the imposter who was actually gnome in disguise. He jumped off his friend's shoulders and they both ran out the room.

Pandemonium broke out. The speaker of the house banged his gavel until there was order. He cleared his throat. "Be honest, did you kick a gnome or not?"

"Yes, but only because the dirty scoundrel pinched my wife's bottom!"

Thirtieth Friday Flash: Roxy the T-Rex

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Calvin was one of the very few to have kept his Genopet, sure she ate a lot and didn't clean up after herself like the Robopets did, but she made up for it in companionship and loyalty. In addition for a four foot something T-Rex she was very cute. Not puppy dog cute, but close enough.

It had been a hard day at school and Calvin was enjoying the walk through the park with Roxy until Marybell the showed up. He didn't mind her too much, he just didn't like how negative and confrontational she always was. She made a beeline towards them.

“It's Cally and Roxy,” she pointed at Roxy. “You're so last cycle, how can you even look at yourself in the digimirror?”

Roxy scraped the ground with her clawed foot and snorted.

Calvin leaned over and hugged Roxy around the neck. “Don't listen to her Roxy, she doesn't know what she is talking about.”

Marybell scowled, her emotive clothing flaring red. It was the latest trend, matching the wearer's emotions Marybell's was often red.

“I so do know what I am talking about. I learned how filthy they are during my morning download.”

“I don't know how you can let them tamper with your brain like that. Six hours of learning crammed into half an hour is just not right. Plus they are way biased towards the Big Five. I wouldn't be surprised if half of it is brainwashing you into buying their junk.”

“You shut up! I am way smarter than you and you know it, but anyway that is not the point. Roxy is a polluter!”

“All lies, Roxy is very environmentally friendly, we use her waste as compost.”

“Ew! That's disgusting.”

“They also spread disease.”

“More propaganda, the Big Five just want more people to buy their inhuman Robopets.”

“Poppycock!” Marybell folded her arms. Her jumpsuit flaming an even brighter red. “It does everything for me, look!”

The bright orange humanoid robot stood beside her holding up a parasol.

Roxy nuzzled his neck and Calvin giggled. “What about friendship? It doesn't seem to care very much at all.”

“Huh!” She turned to her robot servant. “That is where you are wrong. XP7, are you my friend?”

“Yes, it is part of my duties.”

Calvin shivered. “His voice is so real. Doesn't it freak you out a bit?”

“Not at all, are you technophobe or something?”

“No,” said Calvin. “Without technology I wouldn't have my Roxy.”

“You're so annoying!”

Calvin turned to the robot. “What is Mary's favourite colour?”

“I do not have access to such information.”

“Her favourite food?”

“Irrelevant.”

“Her favourite thing to do?”

“Irrelevant.”

“Hey! Stop it,” said Marybell. “I don't need a friend anyway, it is just here to do what I tell it to do.”

XP7 turned to Marybell sharply. “I am not your slave,” stated the machine firmly.

“Yes you are, you piece of junk!” Marybell hit the machine with her handbag.

Calvin laughed.

“Violence towards the XP7 is prohibited.”

“Do you think that will stop me!” shouted Marybell hitting the Robopet again, this time a little harder.

Faster than any of them could follow XP7 grabbed Mary's hand.

“Ow! You're hurting me.”

Roxy growled and her nostrils flared.

“Let me go,” whined Marybell, her face almost as red as her jumpsuit.

“First you must promise to never hit XP7 again.” XP7 lifted its arm, Marybell had to go on tiptoes to avoid more pain.

“I will do no such thing.”

XP7 pulled Marybell off her feet. She had gone pale, but not as white as her jumpsuit.

“Roxy!”

Roxy shot forward, clamping her jaws around the android’s head as she took it down. XP7 let go of Mary and she rolled to the side.

XP7 resisted, trying to get a hold of Roxy's muscular body, but it was of little use, the miniature dinosaur was just too strong. Roxy's razor sharp teeth making short work of the plastisteel skull. XP7 went limp.

Roxy proceeded to play with the lifeless hunk of metal, throwing it around like a ragdoll.

Cavlin helped Marybell to her feet.

“Thank you,” she said, not looking at him in the eye. The colour of her jumpsuit turning to a calm and neutral blue.

“No problem, it will teach you to take better care of your things

Marybell pulled away. “You owe me a new one, you know.”

“You honestly want another one of those things?”

“No, no, I guess not.”

“You're far too angry for someone your age.” Calvin sat down on a nearby bench and watched Roxy play catch with the robot's now detached head.

Marybell looked down. “I can be, it's just so lonely you know, my parents are always working, and I don't have much friends.”

“You need to go to proper school like me.”

“But isn't that boring?”

“Sometimes, but the teachers make it fun.”

Marybell sat down next to him. “I will talk to my parents. Maybe if I sell some of my stuff we can afford it.”

“That will be great.”

She smiled, it was the first time Calvin had ever seen her do so.

“And can you see if you can find me a friend like Roxy?”

“Sure can, I know someone that has a cute polar bear. Will be perfect for you.”

“Can't wait!”

Calvin got up and joined Roxy in playing with XP7's head. Marybell soon did the same, laughing as she did so.

Twenty-Fourth Friday Flash: Rat Problem

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Gabby had a rat problem. Nothing had worked. Giving up, she phoned an exterminator. The doorbell rang as soon as she hung up the phone.

“Mrs Johnson?”

“Yes…” said Gabby frowning.

“I’m Gunther from Little Mountain Exterminators.” The short bearded man and three similar looking men in blue overalls squeezed past her.

Gabby followed them to the kitchen. “That was quick!”

Gunther shrugged. “We were in the area.”

“Boss!” shouted one of the men. “He’s in here!” The dwarf kicked at a kitchen cupboard.

“Get em boys!”

The men snatched little axes from their belts and bashed Gabby’s kitchen to pieces.

Gabby stumbled away from the destruction. “Oh my!”

“It’s the only way.”

A rat scurried away from demolition. Gunther swept it up. “Problem solved.”

“My kitchen!”

Guther handed her a card. It said: “Little Mountain House Repairs.”

Twenty-First Friday Flash: Honey Trap

Jack the undercover detective walked into the newly opened Soulful Estate Agency. There had been reports of missing people. People that had last been seen at the agency.

“How may I help you?” asked the man.

“I’m interested in buying one of those starter pack homes you advertised on TV,” said Jack.

“Which one would that be?” asked the man.

“The one with three rooms and the sea view,” said Jack. It was a big advertising campaign surely the man working here knew what was going on.

“Oh, how exciting,” said the man. “You are our very first customer.” The man ducked down and brought up a big cardboard box and slid it across towards Jack. “That will be $50,000 will you be paying by cash or credit card?”

“What are trying to pull?” asked Jack staring at the box.

“Look pal do you want it or not?”

“Want what? This is not the house you have advertised.”

“Oh, you don’t know…” said the man, Jack noticed that there was a name tag on the man’s shirt it said Manny.

“Don’t know what Manny?” asked Jack.

“You just go over to your allocated plot, dig a hole, throw the box in and water it. It’s a patented house in a box design.”

“My name might be Jack but I’m not falling for that scam.”

“What scam?” asked Manny “Sorcerers… sorry I mean scientists have spent over ten years developing this new technology and besides there’s a money back guarantee.”

“Sorcerers?” Very suspicious behavior indeed.

“Apologies, I’m a huge geek, but I promise you, there is no easier way to buy the house of your dreams.”

“All right, all right,” said Jack passing over his credit card. “I’ll take it.” It was a Police Department card. They could get their funds back once the investigation was over.

“A fine choice sir,” said Manny. “Would you like one of our expert techwizards to help you with the setup?”

“No, but I would like you to accompany me.”

“I’m afraid I have a meeting in a few minutes. Can I meet you at the site?”

“Sure, but don’t take long.”

His undercover identity’s new home turned out to be a nice little plot of land on the end of a beach road. It was in pristine condition and had a fantastic sea view.

Thinking there would be no chance that it would ever work Jack paced out the center of the yard and dug a hole. Once it was deep enough he unceremoniously dumped the box in and then filled it up with water, he borrowed from a neighbor. He covered it up and stood back and waited for the process to begin. The pamphlet said he had to wait a couple of minutes before it got working. Soon enough a giant plant began to grow out of the ground at an alarming rate. It was big and green and began to transform into a house shape. Pretty soon there was a modest but elegantly designed three-roomed wooden house standing before him. Jack was amazed that it had actually worked.

Cautiously he made his way into the new dwelling. It was bare inside. The whole thing was just wondrous to him, but something was wrong, the walls, they were moving, closing in on him. He ran to the door, but it was barred shut. Jack screamed. He knew that he was done for.


A green sedan pulled up to the now vacant again plot.

“How many is that now?” asked Manny.

“17,” replied a man in a immaculate business suit. Manny hated when his supervisor tagged along for the collection, the sulfur smell was a pain to get out of the upholstery.

Manny sighed. “Only 987 to go.”

*I found this story last night. Wrote it in 2005. Was cringe worthy reading, took quite a lot of chopping and changing, but hopefully I've salvaged it and made it readable.

Nineteenth Friday Flash: The Other Side

Melvin pulled into the 24hr clinic. His hands were trembling and his chest tight. Gertrude would have taken him, but he had lost her a few years ago. He pushed the thought from his mind, thinking about his dear departed wife never made things easier. Melvin contemplated honking his horn to see if anyone would come out to help him, but they would most probably set security on him if he did. Taking a few deep breathes his fortified himself before extracting himself from the car.

The well-lit entrance was just a few dozen paces away. He wobbled his way through the parking lot, bumping into a few cars along the way. He passed two smoking security guards who just stared at him as he went by. Melvin would have refused their help even if they did offer. He hated smoke.

Shuffling along at his sedate pace he eventually made it to the reception area. It was so bright inside he had to cover his eyes. He must have looked quite a sight in his night gown and wellington boots.

“Sir, sir can I help you?”

Melvin blinked and pulled away his hand. A tall and thin middle aged nurse stood before him with her hands on her hips and a stern look on her face. Gertrude would most probably have called her a cow the instant she saw her. Melvin on the other hand liked to give people a chance.

“My chest, I think I’m going to have a heart attack.”

“Hmmpf, are you sure it’s not gas or something?”

Melvin laughed. “I’m 83 years old, I think I know the difference.”

“Right, take a seat and the doctor will see you when he can.”

More pain coursed through his chest. He clutched his chest for emphasis. “I can’t wait.”

The nurse shrugged. “The doctor is dealing with a hit and run drunk driver, who was beaten up by friends of the victim.”

Mevlin shook his head in disgust and fell into the nearest seat. He tried to calm down, but it seemed like his heart had lost its brakes. Giving into it, an intense calm feeling fell over him, it seemed like all his worries had flown away. The doctor could take his time if he wanted. A few more minutes wouldn’t kill him would it?

Then the strangest thing happened. Someone suddenly appeared behind the upstart nurse. This person was oddly see-through, as if they weren’t really there. The young lady proceeded to pull faces at the nurse. Melvin chuckled.

The apparition turned to Melvin, he couldn’t believe his eyes, it was Gertrude, a young and vibrant Gertrude.

As perfect as the day he met her.

Melvin wondered if he had lost his mind.

Gertrude walked through the counter and smiled that dazzling smile he so fondly remembered.

“You’ve most probably wondering if you’ve gone crazy?”

Melvin nodded.

She pulled him to his feet. Her hand feeling warm and soft. “Look.”

Melvin looked. It was himself slumped in his chair as if asleep.

“Am I dreaming?”

She pulled him closer and kissed him. “Dead, I’m afraid.”

“Dead?”

“Yes, and about time too, I missed you.”

“I missed you too.” It felt so unreal. “What do we do now?’

“We go home.”

“Heaven?”

Gertrude laughed that tinkling laugh of hers he had missed so much. “No, don’t be silly.”

“Oh.”

“Don’t worry, I will be with you every step of the way.”

Melvin smiled.

They both vanished.

Melvin’s body toppled off his chair. The highly strung housewife of the drunk driver, who had been sitting a row behind Melvin screamed…

Thirteenth Friday Flash: Goblin Gobbling

“I'm here today to meet Markus. One of the latest victims of goblin gobbling. Tell us what happened Markus?”

“The little buggers broken in last night and sucked them all dry. Now I have no produce today. None at all!”

“Your cows?”

“Yes, my darn cows. As you can see they are restless. It's a traumatic experience for them.”

“Enough to make their milk sour I can imagine. What are your theories on why the goblins are attacking cattle?”

“Shucks, I don't know. The taste?” said Markus leaning on a wooden fence that looked out over his farm. “Bert a couple of farms over said they sucked his goats bone dry and stole some of his chickens. The critters are more rambunctious by the day.”

“Are you happy about the patrols the local authorities have setup to protect your farm?”

“Hell no, I'm putting my own protection in place.”

“What kind of protection?”

A car horn blasted as a truck with a large cage on the back came up the dirt road.

“Just you wait and see, she's a beauty.”

The truck trundled past. The driver waving as he went by. Whatever was in the back didn't like it in there and was trying its hardest to get out. Bashing itself against the cage's sides.

“Ooee! We have a live one on our hands,” said Markus rubbing his hands together.

The reporter stood back as Markus and the driver opened up the back.

“I can't believe my eyes. It's a real life griffin. With the head and wings of an eagle and the body of a lion it truly is a terrifying beast to behold. Can you believe it folks?”

“Such a majestic creature,” said Markus as the driver unhooked the griffin's chain and pulled the beast off from the back of the truck.

“Is it legal to own one?”

“I don't own it... just a natural relocation. I feed it and it handles my goblin problem. Simple!” Markus took a piece of raw meat out of his pocket. The beast snatched it up with its massive beak. Swallowing the meat whole.

The griffin's massive eyes blinked a couple of times, as if gathering in its surroundings. It didn't seemed to be pleased. It squawked, and knocked Markus and the driver to the ground with its head.

Hooking its claw on the iron ring around its neck it yanked it off. Breaking it in two. Now free it launched itself into the air. Its massive wings flapping gracefully. Moments later it flew over the reporter's head and glided over the cow pasture. The cows scattered, avoiding the flying beast as best they could, but a calf with a 13 spray painted on the side wasn't so lucky, the griffin swooped down and carried it off into the distance.

“Damn you, Jeb, damn you...” shouted Markus hitting the driver with his hat as he tried to run away.

“So there you have it folks, goblin gobbling is truly causing havoc out here in farm country. And if you spot a griffin please do not approach and contact the relevant authorities immediately. And be sure to catch us next time when we cover the story of a mermaid that was spotted in Lake Ashford.”

* This is a follow up from The Rainbow Effect

** On a side note my fantasy novel Zoolin Vale and the Chalice of Ringtar was released on the Kindle for the first time today. Here are the links if you would like to check it out. Amazon UK Amazon US

*** Here's a link to the first book The Red Stone. It's not available on Kindle yet, but hopefully soon!

Eleventh Friday Flash: The Rainbow Effect

Illustration by Storm Shorter. Follow her on Twitter @Shewolf222

You can also found out all about her book The Key to Eternal Glory here



Capital City – The government has vowed to clampdown on the scourge of schools across the country. Yes, they are going to ban the use of unicorn shavings. Previously not legislated at all the drug was and most probably still is used by pubescent girls nationwide. Used to get a high it can have them in a stupor for days on end. There have been reports of girls going into deep comas.

Of course the UBA (Unicorn Breeders Association) is up in arms about this. Their biggest source of income is set to be wiped over night. The head of the association. Gangreen Magee is quoted as saying: “What are we going to do with all these unicorns? We can only do so many kids parties before they start getting rowdy. It's a damn shame!”

There have been massive online petitions from girls who say it's all harmless and only a bit of fun. I stopped and asked a girl who was waving a placard around that said: “Give us horn or give us death!” why she liked the shavings so much. She had this to say. “It's like so cool and stuff. After school I just hang with my girlfriends zoning out with it. There are rainbows and butterflies.”

To get a male perspective I stopped to an ask boy who seemed to have been dragged there by his girlfriend what he thought of the whole thing. “It's bogus dude. Girls have all the fun. I tried the stuff and it all did was give me hives. It should be banned. Look at Mary (his girlfriend) she's dancing around like a loon.”

So will the rainbow effect as the kids have called the unicorn shavings high be a thing of the past or will it go underground? I spoke to Iam Naught-High a drug specialist about the problem. He had this to say. “Imagine chocolate and times it by ten. That's what the rainbow effect is like. It's horribly addictive. It's a serious concern, girls in this stage of their lives are very vulnerable. Banning is the only option, but back to your question. Yes, it will go underground and the price will skyrocket.”

There you have it folks. For good or bad the rainbow effect is here to stay. Be sure to read my next article where I will be discussing the growing problem of goblin gobbling.


*Just finished this one so I apologize if it's a bit rough around the edges

Tenth Friday Flash: Drooping Flower

The hallway was elegantly designed and covered in paintings, but the place had seen better days; it was dank, cold and there was a leak a few seats down. The seat Mandy was sitting in was rickety, she suspected it was propped up by the wall.

There was a chime and a red light lit up above the black door at the end of the passage. A terrified looking girl at the end of the row stood up and quietly went through the door. It seemed to open and close on its own accord.

Tears flowed from the blonde girl next to Mandy, she desperately wanted to comfort the girl, but her body refused to move. Desperate in that it would distract her from her own fear of what was about to happen.

Another chime and another girl disappeared. At least the next chair in the line was a little firmer. She had another glance up and down the hall. All the girls were like her; tall, thin, barely enough meat on their bones to function, and deathly scared.

She tried to console herself with the fact that her family would be taken care of. What she was doing would be enough to feed them and clothe them for years to come. She looked up. There was a picture of a sad looking clown staring at her. The clown's makeup was running and the flower pinned to him was drooping, but there was a glint in the clown's eye as if he could see the light of a better future. Steeling her resolve, she nodded and determinedly got out of her seat. Some of the girls gasped, while others were so wrapped in their own anguish that they didn't notice, and more than likely didn't care.

Her path had been chosen and she was going to face it head on. She walked slowly and steadily past the others. Mandy turned and faced the door. Being so close made her quiver. Made her question her actions. The picture of the clown flashed through her memory again. Straightening herself up, she waited.

The chime went off and the red light flashed.

She squared her shoulders and walked through the opening door...

Ninth Friday Flash: By The Horns

It was cold. Deathly cold. Andy tried to squirm further into his make shift-blanket, but he could go no further. His head was perfectly warm. Even in this weather it was too warm, which made it worse because the sweat would roll down from his sweaty head and down his body, freezing in the cold.

Two days. It had been two days since he had escaped the test facility. He was hungry, but he didn't dare wander any further. There was no telling what the general public would do to him.

Just before dawn he decided to go out to look for food. Anything to quell the raging hunger inside him. It was still frosty outside, but the chilly wind had died down. He hugged his thin facility issued clothes tightly around him.

It would have to be a short excursion. His neck was already starting to kill him.

About ten minutes away from the abandoned train he had been using for a shelter he spotted a tiny hill. In truth he smelt it more than anything else. He didn't know when he had picked up the ability, but it smelt strongly of grass. Using the strange gait he had adopted to move around he made his way up the hill. It was hard work and he almost fell over backwards a couple of times. Once there he collapsed to his hands and knees.

The smell of grass seemed to inflame his savage hunger even more. He swiftly swept away the snow with almost numb hands. He tucked in as soon as the green grass came into view. The green stuff was soft and luscious. He could see why cows stood around eating it all day.

Andy chewed the grass, ripping more and more of it out of the ground.

Somehow it was warming him up too. Maybe this transformation wasn't such a bad thing. Maybe he could find himself a secluded spot in the countryside where he could live out his days.

There was a clearing of throat.

Andy froze. Swallowing he tilted his head to the side.

It was a man wearing a white coat and sun glasses. Andy recognized him instantly. It was the smooth Dr. Wako.

“You know it's futile, right?”

He had lost the ability to talk quite a while ago. Andy just snorted.

“This whole thing has been staged. You never escaped. We let you escape. We have been watching you the whole time.”

Andy fell back onto his backside and clutched his overweight head in his hands.

“Don't look so glum!” sighed Dr. Wako. “This is all very important.” Andy wondered exactly what kind of doctorate the man had.

Andy shook his head.

“There, there,” said Dr. Wako patting him on his head. “Soon this will all be over and we can move onto the next project. April is going to make an excellent test subject.”

He couldn't believe it. They had his wife. He was enraged. He suddenly remembered the horns that had so painfully grown out of his head. Channeling his rage he lept forward and caught Dr. Wako in the chest. The man screamed in agony as they rolled down the hill. Head over heels, they seemed to roll forever...

Eighth Friday Flash: Gorilla Pequeno

(This story was inspired by the above photo. I would credit the photographer, but I was unable to find their details)

Santos was no ordinary man. He was about half the height of anyone else for one thing, and another was he wore a gorilla suit to work. He was a sideshow at a carnival. They called him Gorilla Pequeno or little gorilla. It was enough to keep him and his family fed, but little else. It was his 15th wedding anniversary tomorrow and he had nothing for his wife. All his money had gone on new tires for his truck. He knew he wife would understand, but he had to do something special for her. She worked hard looking after their daughter and washing the carnival's laundry. Most of her salary went on the boarding school they sent their daughter to. So this year a crazy plan formed in his head. The carnival was leaving first thing in the morning, which give him just enough time to do what he had to do before they left, and before anyone found out what he had done, they would be long gone. He was especially afraid of his own people finding out. If they did, he would never hear the end of it.

Someone knocked on the door. “A minute until show time.”

Santos's stomach was turning over like a washing machine. He eyed the window, maybe he should make a run for it. He thought of his wife, the present he wanted to get her and gritted his teeth, besides there was no way he could reach the window anyway.

Moments later he was on the stage. The all female audience went crazy. Santos timidly made his way to the centre and began to dance.

“Oh yeah, shake it baby!” shouted a middle aged woman shaking some one dollar bills in the air.

Santos let the music and the three shots of tequila he had before the show take control. Much to his amazement and embarrassment the crowd adored him. He never thought owning a gorilla suit could make him so much money.

Before he knew it the silver ring he spotted at the pawn shop was his and he was outside his family's trailer. It was just past midnight. He opened the door as quietly as he could, but it wasn't quiet enough. Maria, his wife, heard him. She had been watching TV and had passed out on the couch.

It took a moment for her eyes to focus. She wiped the drool from her chin. “Where have you been?”

Santos couldn't think of a better time. “I went to get this for you, babe.”

Her eyes light up. She took the ring box and opened it. “Aw, it's beautiful!”

“Read in the inscription.”

“To my darling wife. Forever and always, Santos.”

“I love it!” she placed it on her elegant long fingers. Then she started to sniff the air, and she frowned.

“What's that smell?”

Santos had a very bad sense of smell and shrugged.

“Where have you been?”

“I...I...”

“Have you been behind my back?” She got up, and towered over him. “You're trying to cover it up by buying me this expensive gift?”

“No...no.”

“Tell the truth.. now!” her voice was getting higher and higher pitched.

He went forward to hug her. She pushed him away. “Okay... okay.” He told her everything.

She began to laugh. A sense of relief flooded over him, but it soon turned to stunned astonishment.

“Do you expect me to believe that bullcrap!”

“It's the truth!”

“Out... get out! I don't want to see your face right now.”

“But...” Santos knew from previous experience that there was no reasoning with her.

She maneuvered him towards the door and when it was open she shoved him out. He landed on his back in the mud. “And you can give this to your whore!” she ripped off the ring and threw it at him.

His gorilla suit was full of mud, Santos hugged himself and went over and sat next to the family dog. The dog stared at him with sad eyes. Santos sniffed. “You believe me, don't you Pepe?”

The End

My Fifth Friday Flash: Deadman's Paint

Deadman's Paint



"I don't want it!"

"You do!" said my friend Nigel.

"I don't know, it belonged to a dead man, you said?"

"Was of natural causes... so don't worry. Besides what choice do you have?"

It was true. Times had been tough if I was going to pay the rent I was going to have to produce a new painting soon. And wih no money for paints it was a blessing to say the least, but I still didn't like it! "Oh, alright man!"

"That's the spirit!" said Nigel passing the box of paints over. "I will be back on Friday to pick up the painting."

"Are you nuts?"

"That's when my next open show is... remember?"

"Ah, yes, I had better to get started," I said shutting the door.

I trudged up to my studio flat. I seemed to have very little energy lately, as if a bunch of sparklies were draining my life's blood every evening. Grabbing my almost cold mug of black coffee I took the sheet off my biggest easel. A blank canvas awaited. Downing the last bit of the black stuff I set up all my paints neatly and got my brushes ready. I dipped the brush in the green and slowly moved my hand to the canvas and then slowly brought it back.

"What the hell am I going to paint?"

I stood there for what seemed like twenty minutes before I cursed and threw the brush in a waiting glass jar of water. Fed up with myself I grabbed a half finished bottle of tequilla and fell face forward into my big comfy couch/bed. Squashing a couple of tubes of paint I had forgotten on the couch. Crying silent tears I shifted my face enough to get in a few good swigs of tequila. Soon it was empty. I let my only comforting friend, the darkness of sleep engulf me.

I woke up to brightlight. And Nigel walking into my room. I forgot he had a key.

"Hey, Nigel," I said groggily. "You know it's not Friday right?"

Oddly there was no reply, but that wasn't the weird part. I couldn't feel my body. I couldn't feel anything.

"John? Are you here? You didn't answer your bell?" Nigel, in his pin stripe suit proceeded to have a quick look around then he focused eyes on me. His eyes grew large. "What amazing work!"

"What work? I haven't even started yet!"

Nigel came closer. All of a sudden he picked me up and swung me around and placed me under his arm. "The gallery is going to love this!"

"Nigel! Nigel! Put me down!"

What was going on?

A few moments later he locked me in his boot. Was I dead? Was he going to put my corpse on display?

What seemed like an eternity later I saw light again. It was Nigel's brightly lit gallery. My vision focused. There was a mirror on the opposite wall. I could see myself. I could finally see myelf. I let out a scream that would make the shrillest of girls proud. I was trapped inside a painting. In the reflection I could see myself. I was about to be hanged from a noose, a bottle of tequilla clutched in one hand and a tube of paint in the other... There was a sign above the painting: "Art will be the death of me." I let out another silent scream.

My Third #FridayFlash - Steamed

WARNING: Story has only been proofread a couple of times. Wrote it yesterday.

Brian woke to a crashing sound. It sounded like his cabin was being squeezed inside a giant vice. He rolled off his bunk to the floor, and fell off his feet as the ship swayed violently. It was a lucky coincidence because at that same moment the whole ship began to tilt even more wildly out of control.

Instincts kicking in, he grabbed a hold of the nearest object: a medium sized wooden chest full of his personal belongings. Holding on for his life the cabin suddenly rocked in the opposite direction and did a full somersault. The cabin fell apart under the pressure and to his amazement he splashed into the water; cutting and banging himself badly on the wooden chest and debris.

He collected himself and tried to recover from the shock. Brian was surprised to discover the sea was relatively calm. Still dark, he couldn't see what had happened to his ship. Debris and parts of the ship floated all around him. Clinging tightly to the chest he paddled around. Taking a three sixty degree view of the area. The sun was just rising on the horizon.

His jaw dropped as he took in what was looming up over him a few hundred yards away. It was a galleon style ship, but so different to any he had seen before. Stretching out from its sides were massive steel arms with deadly looking claw like pincers on the ends. Pincers large enough to grab his humble fishing boat and toss it to the heavens.

Hoping not to be spotted he dropped behind his chest and held onto the handle. Now that things had settled he could hear the steam powered engines of the ship chuffing along. Minutes of nerve wracking tension eked on by, just as he thought he might be in the clear the chest began to rise up into the air. Within seconds he was above the ship's deck, he dropped down and landed with a thud. Moments later the chest was unceremoniously dropped from the pincer. Crashing to the floor and splitting open in front of him.

Soaking wet, Brian breathed in deeply and out, trying to gauge what he should do next. He contemplated diving overboard, but facing the crew of the ship seemed like a better prospect than being deserted and left to be eaten by sharks. Out of nowhere something whizzed at his head. Not seeing it in time Brian got another scrape along the side of his head to add to his other injuries.

“Stowaway! Stowaway!” squawked what looked like a parrot, but it was like no parrot he had ever seen. It seemed to be half bird and half machine.

Brian quickly snatched up the lid of the chest in case it came in for another attack. He watched as it flew up and landed on what only could be described as a pirate. But like the parrot there was something very peculiar about the individual. Not only exceedingly tall he was also part machine. Cogs, gears and cams could be seen whizzing around in the man's artificial right arm and left leg. All the enhancements as you might call them were bronze in colour. It matched the plate that covered the top left hand side of his face. A big gleaming red eye stood out in centre of the plate. The pirate's gaze bored into the back of Brian's head.

He had only been the cook on the ship, and he was normally the one who took things lightly or shrugged things off, but this time he wasn't going to stand aside and let life do with him as it pleased. This time he was going to make his will and desires count. Besides he had baked a delicious rhubarb pie the night before and he was looking forward to serving it to the rest of the crew in the morning. That had all been changed by this hideous pirate and his flying bag of bolts.

“I thought we killed them all,” sighed the pirate as if Brian was little more than an insect that had to be stomped on. “See to it will you Nicodemus.”

“I will see to you, you rotten dirt bag!” shouted Brian charging forward with his lid in hand.

Brian swung savagely with all his strength at the pirate. Undeterred the heavily scarred man raised his mechanical arm. The already damaged lid smashed to pieces harmlessly off the man's mechanical arm.

Defending its master the parrot went for Brian's face. It dug its claws into Brian's skin as he backed away trying to swat it off. Wiping away the blood now pouring down his face with one hand Brian used his other hand to grab the parrot firmly by the neck. It squawked and protested loudly as he ripped it away from his face. Intense pain shot through his left eye as the parrot pecked wildly at his eye as Brian pulled it away. Enraged Brian grabbed the evil parrot with both hands and rung its neck. Its red eye slowly faded away to darkness.

“No!” boomed the pirate. “Not Niccy!”

He wasn't sure if it was the pain or the adrenaline that was driving him on, but Brian felt positively invigorated. The insidious pirate lunged forward shouting like a mad man. Seeing the dagger he kept in his chest shining in the morning sun Brian snatched it up, and shoved it into the pirate's chest. Choking on his own blood the pirate collapsed to the floor.

Free to roam Brian discovered that the pirate had run the ship on his own. Piles of junk and loot crowded most of the monstrosity of a ship. Under it all he found a usable kitchen.

Surveying the seas before him Brian took another mouthful of meat. It wasn't rhubarb pie, but he had to admit Nicodemus tasted rather good.

With the ship and all the equipment at hand he contemplated becoming a pirate himself. A less ruthless pirate, but a pirate none the less. He wondered if “One-eye Bri” would be a fitting name?

The End

My Second #Friday Flash - Celebrity Sniper

The motorcade blurred through my sniperscope. They had beefed up security, but it wouldn't do them any good. Ever since I sniped Britney a couple of weeks ago the world had descended into a frenzy. Flood a half country and kill a few hundred thousand people you capture the world's attention for a few days. Kill an often despised celebrity and you're the talk of the whole world for eternity. Look at Lee Harvey, sixty years after the fact and still everyone knows his name

That's why I'm in this. I'm no genius, I can't invent something and be remembered forever. I wasn't born with a silver spoon up my arse. I can't buy myself fame. But fame isn't what I want. I want to be infamous. I wanna leave my mark on this world that no one can clean off.

Britney was a nerve wracking experience. Sure I had killed deer and the like before, but this was different. This was a real live human being with a family and fans who think they know her so well that they would consider her family, but if the tabloids were to be believed she was a pisspoor mother and conniving as the next drugged up starlet. It was tempting to do it at night during one of her drinking binges, but it would have had less impact that way. Besides I like a challenge. I took her out during one of her press releases. It was a marketing event to promote her latest perfume BS, which I thought was rather fitting.

She had just announced to the crowd that the rumours about her becoming a nun was untrue when my bullet went through back of her head. It had the desired effect not only was she dead, slumped on the lap of a shocked photographer, but the crowd went absolutely mental.

It was the most exhilarating moment of my life, and the best part is they have no leads on who did it. I was very paranoid for the next few days, but nothing materialized. It was tempting to go for my next target as soon as possible, but I had to wait. Give people the false sense of security that it was a once off thing.

Back to the matter at hand. This person I had no qualms about killing. Not that I had anything against him, just that I once liked his movies and his recent behavior has left a lot to be desired. There he was now surrounded by bodyguards; black shades and black suits in one hundred degree weather. Getting them out of the sun would do them a favor.

The radio strapped to my belt announced that he was ready to speak. “Mel will now take your questions.”

My finger tightened on the trigger. Just a few more seconds.

“Do you think you can ever rebuild your reputation and career?”

“Of cou....” Mel was cut short. A bullet had just blasted open his windpipe. Gurgling sounds faded away as the crowd of reporters started to scream.

The radio suddenly went dead.

I smiled and casually began to dismantle my gun. My mind already forming a plan for my next target.

The End?

2010 (c) Copyright - Craig Smith