To Catch the Dragon's Eye

Came up with a simple story idea as I was falling asleep last night. Perfect for flash fiction. One quick story arc with a set up, engaging characters (IMO!), a bit of tension and anticipation, and a satisfying payoff. Well, at least I thought so. Even came up with the title: To Catch the Dragon's Eye.

It's a knight and dragon fantasy tale tapping into the common tropes of this kind of legend - a knight stealing from a dragon, a wyvern's hoard of treasure, the vanity of the drake. All that was missing was a captured princess waiting for rescue. 

Image by Jo-B from Pixabay. Used by permission.

So this morning I woke up and sketched out the story. Knew I wouldn't get to write the full thing out until this evening as we had a busy day.

First up, of course, was church. Followed by a taco lunch in the church basement. Hello, Tacos! Typically, Puerto Ricans don't make Mexican tacos, so it was a special treat for our friends as well. Then we headed to town for a few items from the grocery store. We returned to the church in the late afternoon for a very moving and touching memorial service in celebration of the life of our pastor's wife's mother. Then came home for dinner (left over tacos!).

I was feeling pretty tired and was tempted to head to bed, but this story kept pulling at me. So 999 words later I had the flash fiction hammered out. Was going to wake up my wife and read it to her, but decided that wouldn't be wise. She'll hear it tomorrow. Trust me.

Microbursts of Fiction

Happy Weekend, Everyone!

Your #FreeFictionFriday story this week is actually a collection of microbursts. Microfiction is short short fiction, typically less than 500 words. Flash fiction, as you probably know, hovers around 1000 to 1500 words.

Today, we have 6 short Experiments in 55 Word Fiction. I think all of these were written in 2007 or 2008 when I was learning to write precisely, edit for word choice, and just play around with ideas. I’m still learning those skills!

These stories appeared in various online zines at the time, including MicroHorror, Bewildering Stories, Long Story Short, Flashshot, and Pen Pricks. Hope you enjoy them. And feel free to comment below to let me know which one or two you liked the best.

Story #1 – The Proposal

“Are you giving her a ring?”

“No. It’s too bourgeois.”

“You’re making a mistake.”

“It’s patriarchal. Chauvinistic.”

“It’s a meaningful tradition.”

“She’s liberated.”

“You’re cheap.”

~*~

“So, are you ready?”

“For what?”

“Marriage.”

“Is that a serious proposal?”

“I thought we were different.”

“Didn’t buy me a ring either, did you?”

“No. You’re liberated.”

“You’re cheap.”

Story #2 – The Engagement Ring

“Look at this diamond!”

“Now that’s a nice sized rock.”

“It’s not too ostentatious?”

“Absolutely not! A future bride like you deserves the best.”

“But what does it communicate?”

“It says, ‘You’re worth it!’”

“You’re right, I am worth it. Now I just have to find the right man who will buy it for me.”

 

Story #3 – Dear John

Writing on an envelope as you suggested whenever I felt feel the urge. Only have a few minutes before I leave. I was am sorry for the aggravation I caused you. You’ve taught me so much—especially about keeping my tenses consistent. You’re a great editor but I’m ready to go it alone. Sincerely, Lyn

 

Story #4 – Grand Prix Auto

He was going too fast.
She screamed for him to slow down.
The alcohol told him it wasn’t that sharp a turn.
The radar confirmed it: He was going to crash.
As he accelerated, the machine . . . ran out of time.
“Quick! Drop another quarter, I gotta see if I make this curve!”

 

Story #5 – Good News

“Verdict, Doc?”

“Bad news first?”

“Sure.” Jaw pain can’t be good.

“Two rotten molars. Pulling ’em beats a double root canal.” The dentist smiles.

“That’s good news?”

She shrugs. “Do you floss?”

“Nope.” Lecture time.

“Then you don’t have to floss if you don’t want.”

“Really?” I’m confused.

“Just the teeth you want to keep.”

 

Story #6 – I Won!

“Song request?”

“Sure,” the DJ says. “You’re also a winner.”

“I know.” Positive self-image.

“No, you won a lottery ticket. It’s at the studio.”

“Okay.” Radio station here I come.

“Yes?” the receptionist asks. She’s pretty.

“I won a ticket.”

“Congratulations. Sign here.”

“Sure.” I start to fidget.

“Anything else?”

“I never requested my song.”

So there you have it. Kinda fun, don’t you think? But wait, there’s more! For kicks and giggles, here are the last two stories as 100 word microfictions. The longer version was written first, by the way. After reading them, let me know which version you prefer.

Story #5 – Good News (100 words)

“What’s the verdict, Doc?”

“Bad news first?” she asks.

“Sure,” I reply, knowing that shooting jaw pain can’t be good.

“You’ve got two molars rotten to the roots. We pull the teeth and save you the trouble of a double root canal.” She smiles.

“Is that remedy supposed to be the good news?” I ask.

The dentist simply shakes her head. “Do you floss, by the way?”

“Nope. Never have.” I’m waiting for the lecture.

“Well, the good news is you don’t have floss if you don’t want to.”

“Really?” I ask, confused.

“Just the teeth you want to keep.”

Story #6 – I Won! (100 words)

“Can I request a song?” I ask the DJ.

“Sure. You’re also a winner,” he says.

“I know.” I have a positive self-image.

“No, I mean you won our lottery ticket giveaway. Come by the studio and pick up your prize.”

“Okay.” I hang up and drive to the radio station.

“May I help you,” the receptionist asks. She’s pretty.

“I’m a winner,” I say. “I won a lottery ticket.”

“Congratulations. Please sign here.”

I sign the receipt and start to fidget.

“Is there anything else I can help you with?” she asks.

“I never got to request my song.”

Experiments in 55 Word Fiction; All Stories © 2007 by Lyndon Perry

Btw, if you want to subscribe to these weekly stories so you get them in your inbox, go to my Substack page and subscribe. Every Friday, a short story. Free! What a deal!

~*~

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#FreeFictionFriday - Spam Fiction

This humorous (well, I think so, anyway) flash fiction piece first appeared at Every Day Fiction in Sept of 2007. I was writing a lot of flash and micro fiction back then, just to learn to write! This may not work for you, but if you got a chuckle out of it, let me know.

Spam Fiction by Lyndon Perry

“What was the setting?” I ask Alan, my co-author and programmer.

“Fifty words, Smittee.”

“Read it again,” I say.

“ ‘Nevertheless comb accident the incident I wonder,’ Jake replied. ‘A very burst respected ex-captain mad told me the story, and helpless a fine thing cough all is!’ He continued. ‘Could broken anything be more abominable osseous than the way he tense famous possesses irritate a dreamed good circle of friends?’ ”

“Hmm. Still sounds like spam,” I conclude.

“Yes, but my vocabulary algorithm cleaned up the word choice. And the recursive function took care of our earlier grammatical problems. Even the predictive parser is operating properly — I can catch the makings of a plot. I should probably re-sequence the punctuation superfactorials though.” Alan glances at me and I nod.

“Can’t hurt,” I reply. “Also, try setting the eff eff generator at 75 words this time.”

“Sure, let’s give it a shot.” Alan looks up and smiles. “Imagine! When we fully reverse code and appropriate this software we’ll make millions. We’ll be spitting out short stories left and right. Magazines will be lining up to buy anything written by us, ‘Alan Smittee.'”

“I have to admit,” I admit, “we’re harnessing great technology here. Those spam email programmers just don’t know what they have their hands on. They’re wasting their creative energies on advertising, for Pete’s sake — satisfied with simply probing spam defenses for word combinations that don’t ping the system.”

Alan picks up the thread. “But if they can penetrate the typical junk mail filter with just a few faux paragraphs of garbled sentences, then with a little tweaking we can create the perfect short fiction that even the choosiest editors will enjoy.”

We both smile and Alan finishes editing a bit of code. “Ready,” he says.

I punch the start button and the eff eff generator prints out a 75-word revision of the previous piece. I read it aloud.

“ ‘Nevertheless,’ Jake replied, ‘I wonder if the comb incident was an accident. A very mad, but respected ex-captain burst and told me the whole story. A fine thing that was, for a helpless cough is all it is!’ He continued in silence. ‘We could have broken anything that night. What can be more abominable than the tense way he dreamed of osseous tissue? The famous ex-captain possesses everything and irritates a good circle of friends.’ ”

“Getting closer, Smitty.” Alan can barely contain his enthusiasm. “We’ll be rich before you know it.”

I’m quietly hopeful. “Well, keep tweaking the software. It’s only a matter of time before our Flash Fiction Generator will spit out something worth publishing.”

Alan agrees. “And it sure beats trying to come up with an original story ourselves.”

Image by squarefrog from Pixabay.

~*~

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A Micro-fiction Horror Story

Here's a micro-fiction horror story in 175 words. Do you enjoy these weekly #FreeFictionFriday pieces? Don't miss a one - subscribe to my free Substack newsletter and get a story each Friday.

~*~

The Farm by Lyndon Perry

“Ol’ Mickey Donald had a farm, A-E-I-O-U…”

“Would you get it right?” Sissy’s brother yelled from down the hall. “It’s Old MacDonald – E-I-E-I-O.”

“Ronald McDonald had a farm…”

“Now you’re just being silly,” Brother said as he pushed open the door to his sister’s room. He looked at the farm animals grazing in the middle of her bed. “What are you doing?”

“Playing Old MacDonald,” Sissy replied. She moved the cows toward the edge of the covers. “They’re stuck on a mountain and can’t find their way down to the farm.”

Brother just stared at his sister and shook his head.

“Have to use your 'magination,” she said. “See, this cow is about to fall off a cliff.” She pushed the cow over the edge. Eeee.

“You’re nuts,” Brother said. As he turned to leave he muttered, “Sheesh. Old MacDonald…” 

But instead of walking back out the door, he stepped off the side of a mountain. 

“Eeee iiii…” Brother yelled as he fell.

“Would you get it right?” Sissy yelled from up above. “It’s E-I-E-I-O!”

~*~

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This story originally appeared in MicroHorror, September 2007.

#FreeFictionFriday - Hot Tub Graduation

Hot Tub Graduation by Lyndon Perry

Janelle stared at the seventies style medicine cabinet mirror and gave herself – and her black and white polka dot bikini – a final appraisal. She tried not to grimace. Trusting her counselors was part of her therapy.

The real test was what reaction she got from James.

She put on some cherry lip gloss, tasting the fruity flavor as she smacked her lips together twice. Wrapping a scratchy white towel around her, she slipped on her fluffy pink flip-flops, and headed to the back door of the girls cabin. The other three sophomore campers were still in their shared bunk room getting ready for their final day of their winter retreat.

Opening the door, a swirl of dusty whiteness bit at her toes. She shivered. The old stone barn with a new slate roof sat imposingly across the yard; the four inches of freshly fallen snow a seemingly non-traversable glacier separating her from her future.

Janelle pulled a strand of her long brown hair out of her face and curled her tresses into a loose knot that sat high on her head. It was now or never.

Bracing herself against the whistling January wind, she grabbed tight at her towel and made a beeline for the barn. Her toes pinched at her flip-flops to keep them from slipping off as she lifted her feet in a kind of high-step run, quickly crossing the camp’s common area.

The barn door was ajar and she entered with a gasp, pulling the door shut behind her to keep out the cold and snow. The newly renovated barn was warm and cozy and had an earthiness to it, a slight musty smell of old hay and damp stone which she found comforting once inside.

Lancaster County’s Youth Services had purchased the farm a few years ago, turned it into a retreat center, and offered various rehab programs for Philadelphia’s messed up rich kids. The old stone barn was now a recreation room that sported a pool table, ping-pong, foosball, and a variety of games students could play old school style. No electronics allowed.

The barn also boasted a hot tub in the corner.

Alone in the tub awaiting the rest of the campers, James waved his fingers. Janelle waved back and smiled nervously, making her way to the wooden paneled spa, the gurgle of the hot water inviting her to relax with her best guy friend in the whole world. The pulsating jet streams and bubbles offered to take her insecurities away and she decided to let the whirlpool make good on its promise.

“Hey,” she said as she walked up the steps on the outside of the hot tub. She kicked off her flip-flops, her cold toes matching their color.

“Hey back at ya,” James said, his dark eyes following hers. He sank to his chin, letting the bubbles play with his long blond hair.

Janelle stood fast, suddenly frozen, though the old barn was warm, well lit, and doing its best to be friendly.

“Big step today,” her friend said, suddenly pushing himself out of the water and onto the ledge where he sat smacking his gum. His skinny frame was not as skinny as when they’d first met at this same camp two summers before. He was making good progress and it looked like it.

Janelle nodded to herself. “Almost like graduation,” she replied, her thoughts scattered.

James smiled. Waited.

Janelle breathed in, held it, and let it out. Now or never. It had become a kind of mantra as of late. Taking the top edge of her towel, she untucked it and pulled it open. Her pale skin nearly matching the white fabric of her swimsuit, allowing the bikini’s black dots to pop.

Like her friend’s eyes! She blushed.

“Wow. You look great, Janelle. Really. You… you’re perfect.”

“Not fat?”

He frowned. “Am I fat?”

“No.”

“Then there’s your answer.”

In her heart, she knew the truth. Her body type was perfectly normal. But her mind had played tricks on her heart for so long, it was hard to believe. But James would know. They’d shared this journey together for a year and a half. He was perfect. She was perfect. They didn’t need to purge or binge or hide or cut. They could just be.

She stepped into the hot tub up to her knees, her cold toes burning at the immediate heat. Surprisingly this gave her arms goosebumps as the air temperature seemed to drop. She quickly immersed herself to her shoulders and James got back in the swirling water. They moved close, eyes locked on each other. She put a wet hand to his cheek and as he leaned in she kissed him.

“Mm. I like cherry,” he said after pulling back and licking his lips.

“And I like spearmint.”

He grinned, took his gum out and proclaimed, “Doublemint, actually.” He put it back in his mouth and they both laughed.

A noise at the door alerted them to the other campers making their way into the recreational barn. Conversation and shouts and giggles accompanied the six other girls and guys, fellow students on their way to health and wholeness.

Janelle stole a quick kiss and said, “I’m glad we got here first.”

“Me too,” James said. “And even though I’ve sorta gotten used to this place since our freshman year, hopefully, this will be our last time here.”

“Happy graduation day,” she said, and kissed him again before the others joined them in the relaxing, healing waters of the hot tub.

 

Hot Tub Graduation © 2018 by Lyndon Perry

Originally appearing at Every Day Fiction, January 5, 2018.

Here's the story behind the story...

I wrote this flash fiction (about 930 words) as an exercise at being  more descriptive. A lot of nouns we read are throw-away words - flip-flops, mirror, swimsuit, barn. They describe nothing, really, leaving the reader to import what he or she thinks those objects look like. Writers can take more control of their story by describing more of the details of the setting and character to advance a theme or provide a certain texture to the story. At least, that's the premise I wanted to work on. 

So this exercise focused on barns, of all things. There are all kinds of barns. What just popped into your head when you read the word? A red painted, tin roofed country barn, with a faded Mail Pouch Tobacco ad? Or a rough-hewn, splinter-ridden horse stall? For me, it was a stone barn from Pennsylvania that I wanted to describe. You'll have to let me know if I succeeded. 

Oh, and the story? It developed from me simply describing the barn. I next imagined what was inside - all the cool games I mentioned in the story plus a hot tub! And what does that spa inspire? For me, relaxation. Peace. Acceptance. Who needs that kind of zen? Everyone, really, but teens especially. And teens with hangups even more. Which pretty much describes all of us at one time or another, I imagine.

Thus, Hot Tub Graduation was born. It seemed like a good fit for Every Day Fiction and I was excited that they accepted it for publication a few years ago. And as we 'graduate' from 2021 into 2022, I hope this story helps with the transition. Have a Happy New Year and may God's richest blessings be yours.

- Lyn Perry, Dec 31, 2021

~*~

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An Astral Advent - A Short Story for Christmas

 An Astral Advent

by Lyndon Perry

 

            The little shepherd boy called to the littlest lamb under his care. “Talya, come here Talya. That’s good. That’s a good little tal-yá.” The mostly black lamb, white patches gracing her face and tail end, scampered over the rocks to her child master, already familiar with his voice and her own name.

            The rugged grayish hills south of Jerusalem were already, reluctantly, allowing their stubbly texture to soften into the green of growth as the last of the winter rains fed the artesian wells and nourished the ground. Melki took up his striped and colored tunic in his left hand as he’d seen his elders do and with his right waved a small shepherd’s staff to guide the lamb along the rocky path back to the larger flock. Upon his way he gathered three more grazing lambs he’d been put in charge of.

            “Melki,” his father Hazaiah called when he saw the boy round the bend of a nearby foothill, “bring the little ones back to the flock. It is getting late and we must set up camp.”

            “Yes, father.” Melki, his dark brown eyes shining with the joy of life, squinted into the late afternoon sun, looming large and red along the horizon. Already he felt the warmth of the day start to slip slowly away. A gentle wind played with his black curls that slipped down from his cotton wound cap. With his shortened rod he herded the four young lambs back to their mothers.

            The affectionate animals were treated well, often as pets by their caretakers, and reciprocated by following their temporary masters from place to place, pen to pen, field to field, hillside to hillside. Melki smiled as Talya found her mother and began to nurse. His father had told him not to get too attached to this bunch. The Korreti would soon be taking them offworld.

Silly Sci-Fi Microfiction

Okay, I admit right off that this is a groaner. A sci-fi feghoot that probably isn't worth the 250 words it takes to tell the story. lol. But, it will start your weekend off with a smile. Or a slap to the head.

Enjoy this #FreeFictionFriday entry titled, "The Ba'laxian and the Tche’klovian."

~*~

A Tche’klovian was visiting his friend in Ba’laxia. When asked what he wanted to do while on vacation, the Tche’k replied, “I would like to visit the Galaxy-renown Ba’laxian Zoo.” 

This was a wonderful suggestion and so the next morning the two set off to tour the famous zoological gardens.

As they were strolling through the zoo, they came upon an exhibit which housed a pair of super-sized, genetically altered gorillas from a distant planet called Earth. 

They were just reading how dangerous these animals were when all of a sudden, one of the gorillas busted out of its cage, ran toward the visitors, grabbed the Tche’k and swallowed him whole.

The friend barely escaped to safety and called for help. The zoo keeper arrived at once, but both gorillas were back in their cage looking innocent. 

The Ba’laxian explained what had happened, and the official immediately grabbed an axe and asked the man, “Quick, we don’t have much time before he suffocates. Which gorilla did it? Was it the male or the female?” 

The Ba’laxian couldn’t tell the difference. 

“Well,” the zoo keeper said, “the female is usually more aggressive so we better start there. I hope we’re right or you’re friend’s a goner.” 

He quickly killed the female ape and split the gorilla open but found nothing. 

“I’m sorry, it's too late now,” the zoo keeper said. “Your friend isn't in the female. It seems…”

“No, don’t tell me,” the Ba’laxian pleaded.

“Yes,” the zoo keeper explained, “I'm afraid the Tche’k is in the male!”

Image by Christian Dorn from Pixabay.

~*~

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Micro-Fiction: The Daily Brew

The Daily Brew by Lyndon Perry

He loved his morning espresso. In fact, he couldn’t jumpstart the day without it.

And his bride knew it. Either out of love or habit, she would wake up early every workday and prepare for him a special blend of dark roasted Arabica and finely ground Robusta—so as to elicit the perfect crema—and send him off with a small jolt and a smile.

He liked that little jolt. In fact, he couldn’t live without it. And his bride knew it. Either out of love or habit, she would wake up early every workday and crank the generator that powered the operating table on which he slept. Each morning he’d jump into action, down a demitasse, and greet the day full of verve and vigor.

He smiled at his bride as he waved goodbye. She really sparked something deep inside him. But he always assumed it was the coffee.

© 2007 Lyndon Perry (150 words) #FreeFictionFriday #Microfiction #Flashfiction

Image by Elias Shariff Falla Mardini from Pixabay.

~*~

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#FreeFictionFriday - West of the Texas Nebula

Here's a short story that a wrtier friend, Dan Devine, sent me back in 2008 - a space western that wasn't quite ready for publication. I had an e-zine back then called ResAliens and accepted stories that I liked. 

Well, I liked this story but felt it needed a bit more oomph. So I edited it and then edited it some more, bascially adding and changing so that this western set in space, West of the Texas Nebula, became a co-author type of thing. 

I asked the Dan if we could send it to another online publication called SpaceWesterns.com as a team effort and he agreed. It was published, we were paid, and it remains online today!

You can read it there at SpaceWesterns (published by N.E. Lilly), or download it here (free from Smashwords), or just read it online here on the blog (rest of the story below the flap). 

Only 1900 words. Enjoy your #FreeFridayFiction!

West of the Texas Nebula by Dan Devine and Lyndon Perry

I’ve heard it said that running away from your problems never solved anything, but I’ve learned to get out of Dodge before the shooting starts.

Only this time, I was almost a little too late.

#FreeFictionFriday - The Eagle, A Fable by Lyndon Perry

The Eagle, A Fable

by Lyndon Perry

It was raining in the forest. It had been raining for days, and all the birds and animals were drenched. The eagle, too, was drenched, and his spirit dampened as well, for his mate lay with a chill, a victim of the constant rain. He could not keep her dry, and so looked on with despair as her life slowly drained away. His tears mingled with the rain when she died.

It was raining in the forest. The eagle could not stand the rain. It brought back memories too painful for him to bear. He rose up from the trees, hoping in flight to escape his thoughts. Higher and higher he climbed until finally he broke through the dark clouds into the dazzling sunlight that shone above the despair. As the warm sun dried his wings, he suddenly realized that the healing sun had been there all the time his mate had needed it. The pain of knowledge learned too late was more than he could bear, and there were tears for the sun to dry.

Image by Sven Lachmann from Pixabay.

It was raining in the forest. It had been raining for days, and all the birds and animals were drenched. The rabbit, too, was drenched, and her spirit dampened as well, for her child lay with a chill, a victim of the constant rain. She poured out her sad tale to all who would listen, but the other creatures, too, were victims of the rain, and none could help.

An eagle happened by, and the rabbit began to tell her tale to him. She'd hardly started her story when the eagle suddenly lifted the rabbit's dying child onto his wings and began to circle quickly up into the dark and stormy clouds on an errand he did not take time to explain.

The End

~*~

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#FreeFictionFriday - For Pap by Lyndon Perry

For Pap

by Lyndon Perry

The acrid smell of burnt black powder drifted slowly across the battlefield, mingling with a late morning fog which the courage of the weak winter sun could not chase away.

The tranquility of the small valley tucked away in the Shenandoah hills had been shattered by vengeful shots of muskets and booms of canons; its serene landscape now a patchwork of blue and gray, the hundreds of dead and dying bodies making a mockery of its once peaceful panorama.

Private Jefferson Teeples grabbed at his chest, clutching the fabric of his uniform in an effort to stem the flow of blood. He gazed at the dead soldier slumped in front of him and considered the moment.

A voice and image from his past, like a specter insisting on breaking through to the corporeal world, flitted before and around him.

“You come back a hero, boy! Ya hear? You come back a hero or you don't come back at all.”

His pap's drunken words, the last words he'd heard before joining the war, were simply the final hammer blow in a long line of curses, slander, lies, and abuse young Teeples had allowed to condemn his heart.

Coughing blood and tasting copper, he accepted his fate with a decided equanimity. He’d joined the Rebellion in order to die, hadn’t he? Suicide by war is how he’d come to think it. And now his long, sad life – all twenty-two years of it – was almost over and he was glad.

And yet...

Image by Kim Shaftner from Pixabay.

Private Teeples stared hard at the Yank laid out before him.

For the first time in a long time he felt he’d accomplished something worthwhile, something his pap would be proud of. He’d gone hand to hand with the enemy and came out victorious. Or nearly so. He'd killed the Northern bastard just as he caught the end of the bluecoat’s bayonet with his chest.

As he slumped over on the rough and broken battlefield, his torso now slick with blood, he looked up to see a fellow graycoat run up to him waving his cap in excitement, now pulling out a canteen of water.

“Hold on Johnny Reb, don’t you die on me, ya hear? You’re a real hero now, Private, a real hero.”

The man put the tin bottle to his lips and Teeples half sat up and took a tentative sip. He sputtered most of it out and coughed, his body convulsing with pain.

Leaning back onto the fellow soldier's lap, Private Jefferson Teeples closed his eyes. Moments before eternity, he thought of his pap, and smiled.

The End

~*~

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Cat Potion No. 9

Had a little fun with this one.

A few years ago, I wrote a story about a magical cat. No, not Mack from Ma Tutt's Donut Hut, but another magical cat named Mr. Chilly. Okay, so call me unoriginal. lol. 

Anyway, I published the story "Tucker and Mr. Chilly" in my e-magazine, Tule Fog Tales, Issue One. (Only 99 cents!) 

This next story, Cat Potion No. 9, is actually an origin story of how Mister (that's his original name) became magic. It's free upon request - only 3 1/2 pages. :-) Just email me at lyngperry at yahoo dot com.

BTW, the cover art is by Bessi from Pixabay and is used by permission. Hope you enjoy this fun and playful flash fiction.

Some SF/Space Opera Flash Fiction

I say I write speculative fiction - including SF, space opera, fantasy, horror, etc. Looking over the stories I've written during this #60DayChallenge, however, I realized I hadn't written any sci-fi yet during Oct/Nov.

So I sat down the other day and wrote a flash fiction piece (about 800 words) called "Long Haul Goodbye." I liked it so well, I wrote a follow up stand alone (about 1800 words) called "Forewarned, Forearmed." If you want to read them, let me know. I'm currently shopping them to some magazines.

These two stories are part of larger story arc that I haven't written yet - and one I think would be sort of cool to write as a series of episodes. It probabaly wouldn't work, but I envision 50 short 1,000 word stories that can stand alone but when read as chapters form an overall novel.

Probably be terrible.

But I may try it. The concept is typical space opera - a spaceship crew hauls stuff around the galaxy and experiences adventures. To me it sounds fun. And that's why I write.

I'm also one story away from finishing 30 stories in 60 days. Will share a bit about that when the time comes and what else I learned trying to write every day and finish various projects. But I can say this, like the picture above, it's been a blast. ;)

You can always check my progress at the current projects tab above. As always, thanks for reading!

(The image above, btw, is rocket-1374248_640 (c) succo at Pixabay Images.)

Experiments in Flash Fiction

It's hard to write a story every two days. So sometimes I cheat. Well, it's not cheating if my goal is simply to finish some kind of writing project every two or three days - and so expanding a micro fiction into a flash fiction counts as a project, right? Works for me. ;)

Here's what I mean. I took this silly 55 word microfiction (which some short-lived zine published nearly ten years ago) and expanded it to 100 words, then 250, then 500. Each time I added a bit of depth but the punchline remained the same. Here's the first one (original title: "I Won!"). The 500 word version (titled "My Song Request") is being considered by some market or other.

“Song request?”
“Sure,” the DJ says. “You’re also a winner.”
“I know.” Positive self-image.
“No, you won a lottery ticket. It’s at the studio.”
“Okay.” Radio station here I come.
“Yes?” the receptionist asks. She’s pretty.
“I won a ticket.”
“Congratulations. Sign here.”
“Sure.” I start to fidget.
“Anything else?”
“I never requested my song.”

<><

Fun, right? At least I thought so. So I did another one, but this time the final punch line of the 500 word version is a bit different. I kept adding info that changed the story in subtle ways at the 100, 250, and 500 word iteration. The original is called "The Engagement Ring" (published a long time ago) and the full version has the same title. Again off to some market hopefully to find an online home. Here's the 55 word one. (BTW, I have a half dozen of these which I'll likely experiment with in the future as I finish my #60DayChallenge. Again, not cheating! ;)

“Look at this diamond!”
“Now that’s a nice sized rock.”
“You don’t think it’s too ostentatious?”
“Absolutely not! A new bride deserves the best.”
“But what does it communicate?”
“It says, ‘You’re worth it!’”
“You’re right, I am worth it. Now I just have to find the right man who will buy it for me.”

<><

So there's your Free Fiction for the week. ;) Later this week, maybe tomorrow, I'll tell you the story behind the story "Blood Feud." Thanks for reading and following along as I complete this challenge of writing 30 stories in 60 days. You can check my progress here, or click the current projects tab above.

Update: The first story I wrote - "Exit Ramp" - (as part of my pre-challenge challenge) back mid-September has been accepted for publication at EconoClash Review. I think I may be in the first issue, so no stories yet at the website. I'll let you know when it goes live.

(Note: Once Upon a Time image by Ramdlon at Pixabay.com, freely licensed for commercial use.)

Space Monkey Pirates!

A number of years ago - 2007 in fact! - I wrote two space monkey flash fictions for Ray Gun Revival - and some kind Overlords there thought the stories were cute enough to merit a print up in their fine publication of space opera.

The titles were "A Thousand Splendid Monkeys" and "Shock the Monkey." A few years later I wrote a third story, "Space Monkey Business," that never saw the light of day. (Except my brother, who'll read about any bit of silliness I throw his way.)

And then, just last month during this #60DayChallenge I wrote a fourth story, "A Barrel of Space Monkeys." I now have enough of a word count to put them into a short collection that I'll probably upload and sell for 99 cents.

"A Barrel of Space Monkeys" is a space monkey pirate story featuring Mazaru and his friend, Captain Ed Drake. Sort of a fun space opera lite bit of whimsy. If you're interested in reading the whole collection, let me know. I'll try to finish editing it this week.

(UPDATE #1 - The collection is edited and compiled, comes to about 5000 words. May write one more story to round out a loosey goosey story arc. Here's the current ebook cover. I kinda like it.)

(UPDATE #2 - Jan, 2018 - I did indeed write one more story, total words at 7,000 or so. And it's now on sale! Here's the universal link at Books2Read - with links to Apple, B&N, Kobo, etc.)

And thanks for following along as I write a story every two days during Oct/Nov. As I complete them, or get stories published, you can check my progress here. Or click the 'Current Projects' tab at the top. Happy reading! Next up, I'll talk about the story behind "The Newbie and the Zombie," another bit of silliness that is part of a series of flash fictions. Fun stuff.

(Note: the space monkey cover art is from Pixabay, (c) Cabezon, and is freely licensed for commercial use.)

Christmas Fiction

In the mood for a story? Here are some holiday themed selections from ResAliens.com - short, speculative fiction with a spiritual twist.

1. "A Gift Long Forgotten" by R. Scott Russell - a science fiction encounter with an ancient civilization.

2. "Traveled So Far" by Stoney M. Setzer - a flash piece and a surprise journey of discovery.

3. "Sleigh Ride" by Charlie Bookout - Jesus chats with Santa about the meaning of it all.

4. "The Debut" by Francis W. Alexander - What? Did you think Santa was the same person year after year?

5. "The Little Star" by Nick Ozment - a Christmas fable in a star spangled setting.

Which story did you enjoy the most? Comments welcome. And, by the way, Merry Christmas!

Guest Column - Humor in Flash Fiction

Note: Our Guest Columnist is Camille Gooderham Campbell, Managing Editor at Every Day Fiction. I asked her to share some thoughts on writing flash fiction, EDF's specialty. Here's what she has to say.

Back in the early days of Every Day Fiction, we decided that we’d make a point of scheduling something humorous for every Monday. Mondays are hard enough, we thought, without adding a gritty tale of abuse, terminal illness or abject poverty to the mix. And so, over the past four years, we’ve done our best to make sure that the start of the week brings a laugh from EDF.

However, finding enough humorous pieces to fill our Mondays hasn’t proven to be as simple as all that, for two reasons: genuinely humorous storytelling isn’t the easiest thing in the world, and even leaving writing skill aside, we don’t all share the same sense of humour.

Many of the unsuccessful humour submissions that we see at EDF fall into the category of joke-telling rather than storytelling:

Since to some extent jokes are stories, there’s no clear line between a joke and a story, and a flash fiction piece can play both roles through character development and narrative skill. A joke virtually never develops its characters; when a man walks into a bar, he doesn’t have any characteristics that don’t function as part of the joke – he’ll be tall or ugly or a priest as the punchline requires, but that’s it. In a joke, the setup exists only to serve the punchline, rather than the humour serving the story. The difference is a matter of perception and taste, and has a lot to do with the way in which the piece is delivered. Told as a story, it comes alive as a story; told as a joke, it is reduced to a joke. (from my essay “Connecting the Dots” in The Best of Every Day Fiction Two)

Unfortunately, since perception is a subjective thing and tastes differ from person to person, and especially with flash fiction since so much of the story has to be sketched in, implied, hinted at and left to the author’s imagination, the difference between a joke and a story is an imprecise grey area. A humorous story is an exercise in tightrope walking, with half the readers ready to shoot it down for being only a joke and the other half ready to find it unfunny and either boring or offensive.

There’s no formula for success in writing humour, but after reading too many flash fiction submissions to count, I’ve come up with three tips that seem to be relevant more often than not:

* Develop real characters and settings. Make them as real as anything in your head. Give that tall ugly priest a secret lover and a weakness for chocolate, give that bar a grotty washroom and watered-down booze. Even if you only hint at those dimensions when you pare your story down to the bones of flash, you’ll be thinking of them as real and they will come across as real.

* Tell the story naturally; don’t editorialize or try too hard to be funny. If you’ve got a genuinely humorous concept, it will make people laugh without any additional window-dressing and finger-pointing.

* Value the flow of the story as a whole over individual witty lines; falling in love with a particularly clever turn of phrase can impair your inner editor, and a great line isn’t great when it has to be shoe-horned into the story.

Writing a good story is only half the battle, though, since you then need to match the story to the right publication for a good fit.

When you choose where to send your finished piece, keep in mind that not all publications have the same level of tolerance for humour involving bodily functions. Whether we’re talking about comedy of the gastrointestinal system or the lighter side of getting sexy, there’s a delicate balance between funny and gross, and the line falls in different places for different magazines. Think about the target readership when deciding if a piece is appropriate for a particular venue; for example, at EDF we know that many of our readers are eating while they read and may also be at work (on a coffee or lunch break, right?), so we’re cautious about stories that push the gross factor. We’ve seen some very funny pieces that are just too extreme for us.

Finally, remember that humour is largely a matter of taste, and that goes for editors and publishers just as much as for any other reader. There’s no benchmark of humour, no way to authenticate whether something is or isn’t funny – the reader either laughs or doesn’t laugh, end of story – so if a piece gets rejected on the basis that it isn’t funny, recognize that it wasn’t funny to that editor, and try a different market. Collecting a stack of twenty-five “it wasn’t funny” comments might suggest something, of course, if only that your sense of humour is fairly esoteric and you might be hard pressed to find an editor who shares it.

[Thanks, Camille, for sharing your take on humor (American spelling ;) and flash. I have a similar opinion regarding the difference between jokes and short stories. I talk about it in Part 3 of my short series on writing flash fiction. Read Part 1 and Part 2 as well. - Lyn]

What Doesn't Pass for Flash Fiction

Flash Fiction and How to Write It - Part 3
Read Part 2 Here
Read Part 1 Here

Okay, you come up with a great idea for a flash fiction piece. You're going to add some setting details and characterization so it won't just be snippets of conversation or a brief bit of infodump. You've even got a story set-up to deliver the punch line.

You're now ready...wait, what did you just say? A story set-up to deliver the punch line? Okay, hold the bus. I think you have flash fiction mixed up with something else. You're not trying to sneak in a pun story here, are you? Ha, caught you red handed. (Because I've done it myself!)

We just admitted succumbing to a common pitfall of writing flash. The shaggy dog. The Feghoot. The elaborate story joke. Outrageous, creative, groan-worthy, sometimes even laugh out loud funny. But not flash fiction.

At least in my opinion. Some markets want exactly this, but normally flash ends with an Aha! not an Argh! While a twist ending or a surprise turn of events may be a satisfying (and logical) conclusion to a flash story, the intentional story deception (too strong a word?) for a cheap laugh simply disappoints and frustrates the reader.

Now I don't mind pun stories, in fact, I love wordplay and can pass that internet pun test with both feet tied behind my back (quite a feat!). But I want to know from the beginning what I'm getting into. If you enjoy these type of humorous set-ups, then here are a couple I think you'll like. Okay, those are examples of what flash is not.

So what does pass for flash fiction? Can flash be funny? Sure! But the story shouldn't be a string of red herrings and the ending can't be a non sequitur to the plot. As mentioned, the flash ending should be a natural denouement to the climax - or simply end at the climax or reveal itself (think The Tell-Tale Heart). It can be a bit jokey, but the point is that flash is not an extended joke.

This may be a fine line, but in a closing example, here's my story, "Spam Fiction" published by Every Day Fiction which I think (obviously, I'm biased) presents a bit of humor but within the structure of a real story. A few more of my flash pieces are available in a short collection at Smashwords. Enjoy.

And all the best as you have fun with this popular form of story telling.

[Note: This series continues with a Guest Column by Camille Campbell, managing editor of Every Day Fiction. You can read her blog at Copy. Edit. Proof.]

Flash Fiction Tips & Pitfalls

Flash Fiction and How to Write It - Part 2

So you're interested in flash fiction? Join the club! It's become quite a subcategory of fiction writing these past few years. However, the form as been around since at least 600 BC when Aesop told his tales. With the internet, though, quick stories that can be read in a flash are all the rage. And now that there are even different types of flash, it's probably simply a category of writing, no sub about it.

For example, there's microfiction (generally, anything less than 500 words). There's postcard fiction, or micro-bursts, with just enough prose to fill an index card. Some markets can get a little gimmicky here (but still fun and challenging) and insist on no more than 200 words, 100 words, or exactly 55 words! There's even nanofiction, Twitter-sized stories told in 140 characters or less.

But are these really stories? Some say yes and point to Ernest Hemingway's (probably apocryphal) 6 word flash: "For sale: baby shoes, never worn." A story? Not in my opinion. But an emotional vignette? Sure.

As I pointed out in Flash Fiction and How to Write It - Part 1, a story traditionally has three critical elements (the Big 3) - characterization, setting, and plot. (Although, I have to admit there are a number of good stories without a plot - Per Petterson's novels come to mind. What he has, though, is tension, an important component of plot.) Scenarios, sketches, vignettes are just that - sections of a story that may contain the seed element of the piece, but that's about it.

The pitfall I want to address briefly is our tendency as writers to present an idea, slap a few words around it, and call it good. These may be great ideas, engaging, intriguing, and all that, but the essence of the story doesn't even hint at or imply any setting, protagonist, or conflict/resolution. A complete story, at least from my perspective, needs more.

Take my three separate twitter-bytes, for instance, published by Thaumatrope.

• I married a serial killer. Fortunately, he only murders strangers. But lately we’ve drifted apart; he said he didn’t know me anymore...
• “I think our baby is a changeling!” I told my Stepford wife. So I wasn’t surprised when my doppelganger showed up and said I had to leave.
• “Tell me how to write horror,” I beg my muse. “Write what you know,” she replies and pulls out a stiletto. “Here, let me show you instead.”

All fun (well, I thought they were fun!) and spooky, and with an interesting hook. But no setting, maybe a protagonist, and no real plot - just a twist resolution. Ideas, really, simply seed stories which can be expanded into short stories, obviously. (In fact, I did expand this last one into a microhorror you can read here, but it's still not a full blown story, imo.)

So after all this discussion, does it simply boil down to a continuum of story length from nano, micro, flash, to short? Since story telling is an elusive art (as we often say about art, "I know it when I see it"), then probably yes. But somewhere along the continuum of a story the more traditional elements begin to appear and when it seems to satisfy a writer's (or reader's) penchant for completeness, then you've got a full tale well told. What are your thoughts?