More Flash Fiction Stories

Hey everyone, sorry about the super late post. Made my way to Lincoln, Nebraska, and my laptop was close to death because I forgot the charger. But, somehow I managed to commandeer one for the night, so I guess there really is sunshine after rain.

Anyway, I'm here now with the other three flash fiction stories I promised. On another bright note, I did have an interesting idea for a series of books, and since I'm super weird I wrote the outline on my phone and plot notes in one of my notebooks. So, there's that to look forward to.

But, I'll keep boring you with things. Please enjoy these three stories: Too Many Voices, First Love, and The Fading King. See you tomorrow.

Too Many Voices

There’s too much noise in this room. This class is going to drive me crazy. Can’t hear myself think. I feel like I’m drowning in an ocean of screaming voices. Too many voices echoing back and forth all at once. I just want some peace and quiet. Why won’t they just stop? I can’t focus on anything that needs to be done. I try and ignore them as long as I can, but they never let up. I ball my hands and try to force the sounds from entering my head. I can’t take it anymore.

Deep breaths. Take slow, deep breaths. Close your eyes. This helps for a second. Only a second, and that one second is so blissful and serene that all of my anxieties wash away.

Then the voices rush back in. Loud as ever. As if they’re furious that I found a way to shut them out and now they’re seeking revenge. I feel like I’m dizzy, swaying in my seat. I grab my backpack and run out of the room to escape the madness within. I rush into the bathroom and splash cold water on my face. I look at face in the mirror. My eyes are heavy and have a dim blackness surrounding them. I don’t remember the last time I went to sleep. I take a few more deep breaths and feel an almost calmness around me.

Another second of bliss. I wish I could live the rest of my life in this second. Even a full minute would be enough. I unzipped my backpack and grabbed the little white bottle laying on the bottom. I twist the lid and flip the bottle upside down over my hand. Nothing fell out. I knew I was out but just the feeling of grabbing the bottle gave me a little hope that it would be quiet soon. It won’t be quiet soon though. I will have to wait until school’s out to refill my prescription. I let out a deep sigh and walk out of the bathroom. I clutch my backpack tightly as the voices begin to creep back into my head.

First Love

The waiter gestured us toward a table near the corner of the restaurant. I gave her an over exaggerated suave look to make her smile as I pulled her chair out for her. I gave her an equally exaggerated suave voice as I did this and said, “Your seat m’ lady.” My plan worked. She let out an embarrassed sigh as she smiled awkwardly at the other people in the building hoping that none of them saw who she was with. I walked around the table and sat down across from her.

She looked back at me asking, “You’re an idiot. So, what’s the occasion? Why did you want to pick the fanciest place you could find?”

I put my face back to normal again. I leaned forward slightly to put my elbows on the table. “Have I ever told you about the first time I saw you?”

She tried her best to look like she was wondering if I had. Even if I had before she would say no so I could tell her again anyway. She looked back at me with a joyful smile on her face. “No, I don’t think you have. When was the first time you saw me?”

I couldn’t help but smile myself just looking at her anticipation. “It was junior year of high school. My first day at another new school.” I looked her right in the eyes. I was not about to move my gaze from those hazel eyes. “I had just gotten my class schedule from the office and was pushing my way past a crowd of unfamiliar faces. I found Mrs. Dallow’s class and squeezed through the horde of students at the door to get inside. I almost fell on my face when someone bumped me from behind. Luckily my cat like reflexes kicked in and I managed to stop myself by catching the floor with my face because I’m just that good.” This made her giggle a little.

“I had no idea where to sit so I just found a desk in the back corner of the room. I wanted to melt away and remain unnoticed for the whole year. My face was red hot with shame. I was about to dump my head into the trash to live there forever, but then I smelt something. It was the best smell I’ve ever known. It was like someone took all of spring and blew it past me. It smelt like freshly bloomed flowers and rain. I was in a trance. I looked around the room half certain I was in a dream. I leaned over to look down the aisle of desks in front of me and I saw the source. It was a waterfall of shining gold showering over a white blouse dotted with blue and pink flowers. The waterfall ended right above tight, blue jean shorts. The shorts were covering perfectly tanned legs that went down to white sneakers with blue laces.”

She looked at me now. A strong sense of confusion covered her face. She said with caution on her voice, “…What are you talking about? That’s not how we met.” Her voice rose a little with a hint of anger, “Who are you talking about!? I’m not even blonde!”

I looked at her with a straight face. I only paused for a second when I quickly said, “Yeah I know that was Tracey Nichols from history. A couple minutes after I was done staring at her a geeky girl with big glasses, a ponytail, and a blue Kirby shirt sat next to me. I turned and looked at her and I thought, what a huge nerd!” I laughed hysterically as she hit me in the shoulder with her purse.

She gave me her best angry look, “You’re an asshole!”

I slid my chair over to her side of the table and wrapped my arm around her. She still tried to look mad, but I had her reeled in. She looked away. “That’s not all I thought you know?” I let her go and slid off of my chair. One knee planted on the cold, hard ground. She looked down at me and almost swung her purse again at me for even trying to joke. She froze when I reached into my coat pocket and pulled out a small black box. Her eyes welled up almost immediately. I opened the box and showed her the shimmering rock that all girls want to someday see. I put my hand on her chin and lifted her face so I could look into those stars again, now red from the tears. “I also thought when I saw that girl, I’m gonna marry this nerd someday. Now I need your help to make that kid’s dream come true. Amber, will you marry me?”

The Fading King

Charles was in an all out war. He was armored with his white helm and large steel suit. His helm was shaped like a wedge with a point at the top and sloping down to points on both sides just above his shoulders only to go back up to meet at his neck. Wielding his long steel sword he strode forward across the grassy field toward the towering wall, The Great Block of Writers, as it was known. Charles ran toward the wall only to stop abruptly when he saw the beasts defending it.

Do not be fooled by them for they did not resemble ordinary beasts. They looked to Charles like beautiful women. Lounging in front of the wall with their sparkling eyes and welcoming smiles. They are made up of an assortment of different races. There’s the YouTubians, the Facebook giants, the nasty Twitter pixies, and the most beautiful and dreadful of all the beasts, the horrible Netflixian orcs. These sirens sing the songs of distraction to lure men and women into their grasps so they can destroy your ambition as you just lay there. Watching them. Forever. Charles had dealt with these monsters before, and had almost fallen prey more times than he can count. They did look very inticing, but he his too determined and disciplined to be distracted.

He lunged toward the sirens slashing and ducking narrowly under their claws. The sirens tried their songs, but to no avail. Before the battle Charles had a wizard lay a spell onto his helm that would block the songs from his ears. He managed to blow past the remaining beasts and leap through the wooden doors on the wall, blocking them behind him.

Once inside he ran through the great hall and up the stone steps. He couldn’t help but notice how everything in the castle was a bright white and completely empty. He continued up the stairs to the king’s chamber door. He hacked through the white painted wooden door with his mighty long sword. The room was just as white and empty as the rest of the castle except for the white wood chips that now lay strewn across the floor. As he took the first steps inside the room he saw him. The one that had the power to make everything better, but decided to do nothing. The king was a slender man, dressed in black cloth and standing up tall and erect in the left corner of the room next to the window. Charles stepped closer to him, but suddenly realized he didn’t know what to say in that moment. He just let out the first thing that came to mind, “Why do you do nothing to fix this land?”

The king turned and then Charles saw it. He looked deathly ill and was almost fading in and out of Charles vision like he was becoming a part of the white wall behind his slim body. The king said nothing. He just stood there. Charles took another step. Feeling a mix of sympathy and utter confusion for the man, he put out a hand for the fading king’s shoulder. Just before his hand made contact with the king Charles had a thought that he could bring the king back to the wizard to see if he could help, “Hey, I’ve got an idea. How about we-” Almost instantly there was a flash and Charles was almost blinded by the light as it bounced off of the white walls around him. When he recovered he found the king with his eyes, but this time the king wasn’t fading. He was painting the walls of his bed chamber with all sorts of different colors. Charles stood back on his feet and the king turned to him with a smile on his face. Charles waited for the king to say something but he just looked at Charles smiling.

Charles realized not long after, with help of the king’s frantic gesturing, that the king was mute. He needed someone to help him express his thoughts and ideas for him. Someone to bring the king’s ideas to life and show them to the people.

The battle was won, and the kingdom was saved. Charles was appointed as the king’s translator and second-in-command. The castle was no longer a white, empty palace, but now bursting with color and different people all sharing their many thoughts with each other.

Charles sat back in his chair. Took a sip from his coffee mug. Cracked his knuckles, and began typing the next page of his story.