Tag Archives: creative writing

Falling Stars – Flash Fiction

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With a finger tracing over her skin, she connected the freckles, dot to dot on her arm, tracing out the constellation that she used to be a part of. A constellation forever changed because she was no longer apart of it; but there it was, upon her skin, preserving its place in history. A nod to how it was.
Looking around, she took in the sight of her surroundings. For so long she had glanced down upon the earth from her place in the heavens, and now she was looking at the earth from within it.
She didn’t know what to do with herself now. A life lived up in the skies and then suddenly banished.

*****

Exploring her new surroundings, she quickly got used to her new legs. She traversed through hillsides and woodland for several days before she happened upon any native humans. Spent her days walking and her nights admiring her sisters from a different point of view.
When she came across a small village, she found the natives to be very friendly, even if she didn’t always understand what it was they actually meant. The women got her bathed and gave her new robes to wear, like she was a doll to play with. Everybody was interested in her, asking lots of questions. They had never met an actual star before.
“What are you doing here then, and not up there?” asked one gentleman, pointing skyward.
“Well, I was banished” she stated, thinking this should’ve been general knowledge.
“how can a star be banished?” asked another
Her face grew sad, “I’d started to collapse,” she spoke softly, “I would’ve gone eventually, but on my own terms and in my own way – out with a bang and not a fizzle. They don’t want you breaking formation unless it’s on their terms though”

[304 words]

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Shared Feelings – Flash Fiction

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They’d been working together in silence. A comfortable silence. They each got on with their own work, doing what they had to do with no chatter, no laughter. It certainly wasn’t unusual for them to do so, but it was definitely not the norm to be so quiet, so engrossed in their own work.
“You ok?” he asked, looking up from his desk and breaking the silence.
She glanced up from what she was doing and looked him straight in the eye. Spending a second considering what to say, she took a deep breath;
“I feel stuck” she stated, her voice taking on a tone of realism rather than her usual bright vocals. “I feel like I’m having a quarter life crisis or something. I’m in a state of flux – I don’t like everything about my life, but I don’t know how to fix those bad bits. I don’t know what to do for the best. I just don’t feel like I’m living – barely existing really. I get all these ideas about what I could do, but I’m too lazy to pursue them – too tired! I’ve got no real passion anymore. Nothing that will satisfy my creativity and be an income. I want the money, but without the work. I don’t want this 9 – 5 existence, going home exhausted and only living for the weekend – why is that even a way of life? It’s soul destroying. But it’s the norm, and the easy way out I guess.”
She trailed off; thinking about everything she just released, she turned to him, wondering if she had freaked him out with her verbal unloading.
“I feel exactly the same way” he half-smiled

 

[277 words]

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Dreams – Flash Fiction

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She stood face to face with her biggest fear.
Her quickening heart was heading toward explosion; her liquefying knees meant she stood no chance of running away from it; and it seemed that every inch of her porcelain skin and long blond hair was breaking out into a cold sweat.
“I thought that you were going to make my dreams come true?!” she shouted, unblinking, unmoving
“I did” came the sorcerer’s reply
“this is not my biggest dream” she stated, her voice quaking
“according to my powers it is”
“more like a nightmare this one”
“But nightmares are dreams too”

 

[100 words – Drabble]

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Haunted – Flash Fiction

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“It’s been 15 years, but I still regret what happened at the lake that night”
“I know,” she replied softly, “but it did happen. You can’t change it now; you need to forgive yourself – I’ve forgiven you”
“But I killed you!” his voice strained
“and you’ve had to live with that on your conscience; I’m not going to punish you for it. Besides, you’ve been stuck with me “haunting” you since then”
He smiled at her apologetically across the dining room table
“you must hate me” he stated
She thought for a second:
“No. Well… I did, but not, not anymore. Being dead, you kinda learn to let things go”

[110 words]

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Mood Ring – Flash Fiction

 

Mood Ring Flash Fiction - Life of Fiction

Her hands were warm, unusually so, and there was something about her smile that made his stomach flip, and not in a good way.

Greeting each other as they usually did, they began walking in the direction of his parents’ house for their first meeting with her, his new girlfriend. It was the first time they would be meeting a girlfriend of his, and though he had been feeling pretty good about it – Jessica was an amazing person – he now felt a sense of unease.

As they walked hand in hand, he was very aware and conscious of the fact that there was something different about her. There were no obvious changes; she still looked the same height; her dirty blonde hair was still long, just touching the curve of her buttocks; even the trio of freckles that graced her neck were still in place; but there was something very very different about her. Something in her being had shifted; something about the way she made him feel. Something was not right.

She had been talking away whilst his mind was trying to figure out what had changed. When she came to a pause, expecting him to make some kind of response to what she had been saying, he simply blurted,

“Who are you? And where’s the real Jessica?”

Stopping in his tracks, he looked agitated and confused. “You are not the person I’ve come to know. You are not my Jessica!” He declared.

She looked into his eyes, and scrunched her mouth to one side, considering her words;

“I am Jessica. It’s just…” she trailed off.

He stood waiting for an answer to his questions, examining her face as the world rushed around them. It was her eyes – there was something different about her eyes.

“I was hoping that I’d ease you into this more gently,” she continued, “in my own time, when our relationship wasn’t still so new”

“Ease me into what?” he shuffled his feet awkwardly, placing his hands in his pockets.

Taking a deep breath, she spoke quietly, with just a hint of hesitation,

“There are things about me that can change… depending on the kind of mood that I am in. It was something I was born with. When people find out, they just think I’m some kinda freak”

He stood there pretending to consider what she had just admitted, trying not to snigger at something that sounded so absurd.

She continued, ‘So right now, I’m feeling nervous. As well as butterflies in my stomach, my hands aren’t their usual cool temperature, and my eyes have probably taken on a yellowy, orange kind of tinge.”

“So… you’re kinda like a mood ring?” he mused

She stared at him, a little unimpressed, before giggling at his suggestion;

“Yes,” she laughed, playfully hitting his chest, “exactly like a mood ring… You do not want to see me when I am angry” she pointed at him in mock warning.

Taking her unusually warm hand in his, he swung their arms as they carried on walking to his parents’ house.

He considered what he had just found out;

“Hey, if I can tell what mood you are in, I’ll know how to make you feel better. Making me the best boyfriend ever!”

 

[543 words]

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More Than Words – Flash Fiction

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“I…” he stumbled over the next word he wanted to say. He couldn’t make the sound; felt like he wanted to choke on it.

Jenny looked at him expectantly, waiting for what he was going to say but she glanced back down at her menu when she realised he definitely wasn’t going to say it.

He didn’t know what was wrong with him. He had said it before – probably a million times over in the 4 years they’d been together. What was so different now?

Jenny lead the conversation throughout the course of their meal, where he could respond normally, but when a natural silence came, as usually happens, he would try again to say it, always stumbling over that one word. It was a time when he felt the need to say it, would usually say it at such moments. But now it was like the word physically repulsed him; made him gag almost.

*******

After a few days of this and wanting to say the word at least what felt like a thousand times, and not just because he couldn’t, he decided to confide in someone.

“Mom, I’m having trouble expressing a word and I don’t know why.”

“What word?” she asked, looking puzzled at such a notion,

He shuffled awkwardly and made an attempt to say it, but, as before, the word just could not be formed and spoken a loud. He growled in frustration.

“How do you feel about me, mom? and Dad?”

“Well I love you both very much, of course”

“That’s it!” he exclaimed, “That’s the word. I physically cannot say it”

“What, love?”

“Yup. Can’t say that. It’s like my mouth can’t form it. I, I want to say it, but I just can’t” His voice softened, “I haven’t been able to for days. Jenny probably thinks I’m going off her.”

“Are you sure you feel it? This could be some sort of psychological thing y’know”

“Definitely. And y’know what, I’m not overly bothered about why I can’t say it; I just need to be able to say it to Jenny. I don’t want her thinking that I’ve stopped.”

“Well, some say that actions speak louder than words. You’ll just have to show her.”

*******

He felt a bit dumbfounded. What did he usually do to show how he felt? He thought but nothing came to mind. He couldn’t think of anything he did for jenny as a show of affection – they kissed and hugged, sure, but he did nothing else. Whenever he felt love, he’d say so. He could not think of a single thing he did as a show of affection and appreciation for Jenny.

He asked himself, “What is romantic?” and when he couldn’t come up with a decent answer himself, he turned to books, and movies, and began observing other couples when he was out and about.

One day, when they were out walking the dog, he saw a couple walking hand in hand so instantly grabbed Jenny’s.

“What are you doing?” she asked, sounding unimpressed.

“Just wanted to hold your hand,” he responded, before getting a little bit defensive, “Is that a problem?”

“No,” She chuckled, “Just not something you usually do, that’s all”

She smiled and started swinging their arms as they walked along.

he noticed as they walked that she seemed brighter – an inner voice screamed at him to tell her;

“You look beautiful today Sweet,” he stated

She looked at him bemused, but didn’t say anything, just smiled.

*******

He tried a couple of different romantic gestures and they seemed to satiate Jenny when she was full of expectance, waiting for him to declare his love, but he felt like a fraud; it wasn’t natural for him. Jenny wasn’t even the kind of girl for grand gifts and public displays.

When he brought her a large bouquet of deep red roses, her face lit up, glowed even, but then took a serious look quite quickly, asking what he had done wrong, questioning his fidelity to her.

“You idiot!” he thought to himself afterwards, “Roses aren’t even her favourite”

He tried a couple of other things but each time felt like he wasn’t being genuine with her – like it was all show and no meaning.

******

A few weeks later he was at the supermarket, wracking his brains for new ideas. He was absolutely frustrated with himself. “ Who knew that words and actions were so inseparable” he thought.

He picked up the few things that they needed and when walking past the medicine aisle decided to get some tissues and throat lozenges for Jenny who was coming down with a cold.

“Thanks honey,” she murmured when he got home, “You’re so romantic”

“You think?”

“Yeah. That was a really thoughtful thing to do for me”

He smiled widely, proudly realising that romance wasn’t all big, fancy dates and grand gestures.

“I love you” he said.

*******

And whilst he was glad to be able to say it to the woman that mattered most, he never actually used it as often as he used to, enjoying the discovery of little things that filled his and Jenny’s heart with love.

After all, sometimes, actions do speak louder than words.

 

[866 words]

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A Writer’s World

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The stark white and brightness of the café melted away the more she wrote. Leaving behind the real world, she entered her own of peace and solitude; her pen dutifully scribbling down the realms and worlds of her imagination, desperately trying to keep up.

Her soul had taken a leap, and even though the pages were white, streaked with black marks it was swimming amongst vivd backdrops and creations. Worlds of colour and imagination engulfed her – a high contrast to the realities that surround her physical being.

Whilst everybody around her was carrying on with their mundane routines, an hour for a boring sandwich and a scroll through Facebook, she was amongst heroes and villains, surreal creatures and topsy turvy paradises. Her senses, her mind, her heart were alive!

She travelled through time and space; to far off countries and amongst the stars; all from an uncomfortable plastic seat in a kind of ok café.

She orchestrated melodies; directed her company of characters; bringing life or destroying it.

The only thing to distract her, to bring her worlds to a grinding halt, was a young man who clumsily sat down at the table next to her. She felt aggrieved – hated being disturbed but instantly tried to get back into the flow. She took a deep breath, ready to dive back in, when she glanced over and noticed that this man was pulling a book from his oversized bag.

She watched as he became engulfed in this work of literature. In her mind’s eye a stream of golden light glowed up from the pages he was reading; a new world radiating from leaves of a tree long gone, absorbing him, attaching itself to his soul.

She couldn’t stay silently mad at this person who had disturbed her. She felt an affinity with him, a shared interest in words, in getting lost, of forgetting the real world.

She smiled at him when he glanced up and then went back to the world of her notebook, content in the knowledge that there were people in the world similar to her; that she was never truly alone.

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