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Fast Fiction Friday

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Automatic Flowers [Jul. 28th, 2006|10:06 pm]
Fast Fiction Friday

chiefseamonkey
It's not as if last night's fight was our first. Or even the worst. Still, I felt bad. I was distracted the entire day. A smile crosses my face when I imagine the look when you see the roses. A dozen, red and white. I call your name as I step through the door.

A thorn slices my palm as the flowers fall tothe floor. That's when I realize you're gone.
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Keys [Jul. 28th, 2006|09:59 pm]
Fast Fiction Friday

chiefseamonkey
[Current Location |Keystone City, KS]
[music |Army - Ben Folds Five]

The key is slowing growing warm in my hand. I'm squeezing it in my fist. The teeth cut into my palm. I look the letter over one last time. The room is dark, but there's a sliver of moonlight between the curtains. Just enough to read.

I hear a shuffling from her room. Her weight shifts in the bed. Her feet shuffle across the carpet. Barely awake, she asks what I'm doing. Nothing, I tell her. I feel the key in my hand. The letter behind my back. I'll be back in bed in a minute.
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One Lazy Moment [Jun. 23rd, 2006|05:10 pm]
Fast Fiction Friday

hiebster
[Current Location |Home]
[mood |lethargiclethargic]
[music |Air conditioning wind]

He pulled out his knife, extracted the blade and scratched his head with it.
 
“That was just unnecessary. Show off, with your blade,” she said. She continued reading a Dummies book on Home Decorating. “How can they even talk about color and the color wheel when there’s not a single page in this book in color?”
 
“The cover’s in color,” he said. He took the blade out again and cleaned out his fingernails with it. Outside the wind was stagnant and lazy, and the sun flowed warm and thick through dark rain clouds that had yet to do anything.
 
He looked over at her and she had fallen asleep on a page about Decorating Basics. Her arm twitched and she woke.
 
“It’s boring me to tears,” she said, and tossed the book to the ground. “What are you doing?”
 
“Nothing,” he said, still typing away at the computer.
 
“You’re doing something. Applying for a credit card?” She rolled on the bed and stuffed a pillow under her head, and then another under her belly.
 
“I’ll read it to you in a second,” he said. “It’s an experiment.”
 
The rain still waited for the right moment to come down.
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Thin Man [Jun. 9th, 2006|12:02 pm]
Fast Fiction Friday

chiefseamonkey
[Current Location |Keystone City, KS]
[music |I Bet You Look Good On The Dancefloor - Arctic Monkeys]

It's called folding. Basically, I shift myself into another dimension. It makes me completely undetectable by anything on the planet. My handlers have no idea how I gained this ability. Neither do I.

The security on this guy is laughable. Maybe I'm jaded, but I'm fairly certain I could get in here without my "talent." Alone is his office. Moron.

This isn't teleportation, I still have to make the trip. Teleporters don't live that long, anyway. They tend to 'port in their sleep. Materialize in an object. Like a wall. Very messy.

I was recruited by the agency when I was thirteen. They bounced me around. Had me train with different branches of the military. Delta. S.E.A.L.s. Golden Knights. Even spent eighteen months with a Spetznaz unit.

The blade is sharp. He won't even feel it. The boss wants to send a message. I don't even know why. I unfold. His blood sprays across his desk. I'm out of the building in less than a minute.

They'll get the message. I don't really care-- I'm already looking forward to my next job.
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Quite Contrary [Jun. 2nd, 2006|10:58 pm]
Fast Fiction Friday

crisper
Mary had a little lamb, but its fleece was not white as snow. It had been locked into a dull-grey armored chassis some two years earlier, when she had begun its training, and it had remained there ever since, it's wet little lambykin eyes forever hidden behind a polarized targeting shield. Mary was seeing through those very same eyes right now, the tiny transmitter piggybacking on her little lamb's optic nerve. Mary was comfortably seated under a shady tree most of a mile away, monitor unrolled on her lap, nowhere near the well-hill. Her little lamb crouched at the base of the hill, well camouflaged among the rocks, target reticle trained on the two figures currently working the well. NOW? her little lamb queried. No, she reassured it over the wireless, not yet, you know the instructions. The lamb waited patiently, but it didn't have to wait long: after a couple more minutes, the two figures began the long slow trudge down the slope. The reticle sharpened on one of them: male. Range. Lock. Fire.

The projectile was high velocity, small, but very fragile. It struck the boy in the leg and instantly pulverized, leaving no wound of its own, but the impact was perfectly targeted: his leg gave out suddenly and, carrying the heavy load that he was, he could not help but fall hard. The loose rocks of the trail gave way and soon he was going end over end down the stones in a shower of fragments and dust until he finally landed at the bottom, his head cracking hard against a protruding piece of granite. Near the top, the girl began to scream -- "Jack! Oh shit, Jack!" -- as she began a precarious-looking scramble down the hill.

Return to deployment, Mary told her little lamb. Nice shot. The monitor view went blurry as the lamb began to move; she rolled it up and put it back in its case with a satisfied smirk. Nobody dumps me for some little water-carrier whore and lives happily ever after, she thought.
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A Most Thought-Provoking Trick [Jun. 2nd, 2006|07:06 pm]
Fast Fiction Friday

hiebster
[Current Location |Home]
[mood |mellowmellow]
[music |Thunder]

Wandering about the stage, bleeding silently into his tuxedo, the magician wondered how he was going to recover from this. Sometimes the Bullet-Catch Trick goes wrong, and, historically, is the last mistake a magician will make. But he was sure he could turn this around. He staggered up to the front of the stage, where the lights burned hot and yellow, sat down, and reached into his pocket.
 
“I’d like to tell you a story,” he said, removing a handkerchief and a coin. “There was once a healer in India who had a magic stone.” He held out his arm palm down and placed the coin on his hand. “He would place the stone on the patient and cover it up.” He folded the handkerchief into quarters with one hand and set it on the coin. “And the stone would pass through the body of the sick, catching all the evils along the way, until it came out the other side.” Though he didn’t move, the coin fell from his hand and clattered on the stage. The audience laughed. He picked the coin up and replaced it, covering it again.
 
“Sometimes, I’m afraid, the miracle didn’t always work.” He fell over, the only other sound being the staccato of a bullet rolling from his mouth.
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Bastard [Jun. 2nd, 2006|05:08 pm]
Fast Fiction Friday

chiefseamonkey
[Current Location |Keystone City, KS]
[music |Stars - Hum]

She offers me a cigarette. I take it, sitting up in her bed as I light it. She looks at me and smiles, slowly blowing smoke. I stare intently at the smoldering end of the cigarette. The night breeze from the open window dries the sweat on our skin.

With a laugh, she tells me I'm a bastard.

I don't disagree.

"I was kidding," she says. "You're a good guy."

Right.

"Look, there must be something wrong with your relationship if you're here with me."

No, I say. You were right the first time.
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Soothe [Jun. 2nd, 2006|11:48 am]
Fast Fiction Friday

chiefseamonkey
[Current Location |Keystone City, KS]
[music |No Sleep 'Til Brooklyn - Beastie Boys]

Green tea. I was told it'd help me relax. Keep me from getting so damned stressed out. Maybe somebody could explain why I black out and wake up covered in blood every single time I have a cup?

I'd gone to the doctor last year. I'd been feeling generally ill and finally broke down and got his advice. "Too much stress." "You need to relax." "Drink green tea." Some advice. I walked out of his office, a little pissed at having paid him for that. Whatever. Too late now. On my way home, I went into this small shop down the street from my apartment. An odd little place. Sold a lot of "magic" supplies to some local Wiccans and organic foods for the growing group of people who just HAD to have alfalfa sprouts that had been grown without coming into contact with even the slightest hint of fertilizer. They had amazing coffee beans, though. I stopped in every Tuesday to pick up a fresh pound or two of beans. Figured I'd try the tea a shot.

I chose the first box I saw. There was a panda on it. Yeah, I felt more relaxed already. I paid, told Harv I'd see him on Tuesday, and went up to my apartment. Damn neighbor was blaring 'The Wall' again. I dug around the cabinets in the kitchen for a few minutes. I had a kettle in here somewhere. Found it. I gave it a rinse in the sink and boiled a few cups of water. I sat down and sipped my tea.

Then, nothing. I came to in the exact same place, but with blood spattered all over my body. 'The Wall' had stopped. I had no idea what happened. I freaked out, running to the bathroom to check my body for cuts. Not a one. I showered and changed. I wasn't going to bother washing my clothes. I tossed them in a paper grocery sack and walked into the hall. Police tape across the next apartment's door. I didn't even think. I just went to the basement and threw the bag into the incinerator. That was the first time.

Soon after, that annoying bartender at O'Shay's was found in the alley behind the building. A few door-to-door salesmen. And two Mormons who knocked on my door at six a.m. I tried to stop drinking the tea. Really, I did. Then I'd come home from a bad day at work, fix a cup, and everything got a little better. I know I shouldn't. I know it's a horrible thing. I want to stop.

But my boss has been getting on my nerves lately...
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Welcome [Jun. 1st, 2006|08:57 pm]
Fast Fiction Friday

chiefseamonkey
[Current Location |Keystone City, KS]
[music |Lips Like Sugar - Echo and the Bunnymen]

Welcome to Fast Fiction Friday. The goal/purpose of this community is to have everyone post at least one story every Friday. Why Friday? Alliteration. No rules. Just watch your grammar and spelling, please. Constructive criticism only. No "Th1s fucken suxxorz!!1!" Stories under two hundred words.

Oh, and if anyone wants to make icons, go right ahead. Send them to me, we'll pick the best and give you credit and whatnot.
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