Category Archives: Short stories

From Tree to Shining Tree – Friday Fictioneers

Friday Fictioneers – a wonderful collection of a photo-based 100 word story.  >HERE<

Picture Courtesy of Sandra Cook.

It was nearly dark, that weird time when shadows played with the minds.
The elder tree did not mind the games, but had not time at the moment.  He had a calling.

The open knothole, turned up, began to glow and a pale yellow light shot forth to the clouds.
The beam bounced off clouds, sailed from any surface, striking all other trees who responded in kind.

Slowly, they started to move, ripping their roots from the ground. Their many legs now carried them faster and faster across landscapes, crushing homes and people in their wake.

The invasion had begun…finally.

 

Word count: 100 words

Namaste,

Scott

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A Ghost of a Chance – Flash Fiction 150 Word Max

“It’s a ghost town, Carol. You know, nothng living, just ghosts hanging about.” Jack snorted just a bit as they approached the vacant, unused buildings that used to make up Tindertown.

“I know that, but I don’t want to stop there!” She didn’t shreik but he thought she might.

He accelerated just a bit coming round the corner to the town. A figure stepped out in front of the vehicle and Jack managed to swing the car to the left, but not enough to miss the person.

“Jack!”

He hit the brake, looking in the mirror at … nothing.

“I must have been seeing things,” he said trying not to let his shivers show.

“No,” said Carol, “you weren’t.”

Jack followed her eyes, using the mirror to see the pasty-white translucent figure sitting in the back seat…smiling.

Neither Jack nor Carol saw the oncoming semi until it was too late.

Word Count – 150 Words

Friday Fictioneers – By the Light of the Silvery Moon

This week’s photo prompt comes to us from Ted Strutz.

He stood on the deck knowing, dreading, and loving all at the same time.  He removed his shirt.  The biggest problem, he knew, would be the water.  He didn’t like the water, especially, now.  The all too familiar tingle and fever started.  He felt the sweat rise on his brow.  Below he heard the dancing and gaiety centering on the bride and groom, his neighbors and friends.

9:41pm he could not longer think.  It happened quickly.  The growl escaped his throat and he smelled the air, the night, and the blood.  He headed downstairs and screaming started.

 

100 words – Namaste,  Scott

The Vigil (Coincidentally, My 1,000th Post)

As a fiction writer, sometimes, I have difficult tasks.  As, primarily, a horror writer, those tasks can become very uncomfortable.  I almost didn’t send this story, but the writer in me got the best of me.  It touches on some hard, difficult spots.  I realized that that’s what horror should do.  It should leave you feeling raw and exposed, scared and nervous.  Please understand as you read.  Scott

The Vigil

By Scott L Vannatter for Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers

People of all ages had come to the memorial, candle in hand.  The 7 who had been shot at the mall were neighbors, friends, even family in the small Indiana town.  Something this horrendous had never happened to most of these individuals and they were scared, sad, and horrified.  The sheriff and several deputies stood around watching the crowd.  Even during this event, looters and pickpockets could happen.  So close to a holiday made things even worse, if that was possible.

He had paid his respects earlier.  His duties had pulled him long before he had spoken to many and gotten to know them better.  He didn’t expect friendship, but knowledge helped all the same.  A tear ran down his cheek, but it wasn’t really sadness, more of a reverence or prayer.  From the courthouse tower he loaded the first magazine and clicked it into place.  So many here.  He might just outdo Vegas yet.

word count: 155

My story was inspired by this week’s picture which has kindly been provided by Elaine Farrington Johnson. 

1 Shade of Amber

Friday Fictioneers entry for the week.

______________________________________

“Really, Naomi, just leave it and someone will return for them.”  Cylene took the ink pen from her mouth, pointed toward the decorated mug and sunglasses. ”  She returned pen to mouth.

Naomi hissed. “I know, for your information, I was more concerned the table is not clean.”  Cylene was unconcerned about such things.

The truck stop door tinkled, both looked as a god entered.  He was about six two, 30ish, flowing hair, and built.  Naomi and Cylene tensed pleasantly.

“Ah, there they are,” he whispered, reaching for forgotten items.  His hand brushed Cylene’s; she blushed; he noticed.

Their eyes met, Cylene let some air escape her mouth, pen falling.  He took her hand, leading toward the bathrooms.  Cylene never glanced at Naomi, but he did, barely.

Naomi saw meadows and starlit pastures.  After a second, shaking her head, reached in her purse, pulling out a small, long,pointed wooden object.

She wasn’t certain those were fangs she saw, but never hurt to be careful.  She headed toward the bathroom as the door finished closing.

Word Count: 174 , photo credit to shivamt25.

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