Here’s another quick little bit of flash fiction in support of my friend, Jolene’s writing prompts. This one has the following four elements that should be included:
driver of an ice cream truck
competitive eater
wrong side of the tracks
stairs
Enjoy.
Dennis Marley sat on the stairs with their steep climb to the top of the hill, his destination within sight up where that hill crested. It was only a little more than a city’s block worth of climbing and he would finally arrive.
person who did something bad a long, long, time ago
I regretted telling my therapist about the lucky underwear. Sure, it brings me luck. You know what I mean. They’re good for increasing my chances at winning at meat raffles, make it easier to score some digits from the ladies at the bar, helps on loot raids with my guild… that kind of luck. They aren’t my shield, for chrissake. They just make me lucky.
But she insisted I use them for therapy. Ugh.
“Are you wearing your lucky underwear today, Steve?” she asked at the far end of the strip mall where she had asked me to meet her.
Another prompt from Jolene/Chico’s Mom. I’ve not participated in the last few because I was focused on Vivian Locke’s noir, but I thought I’d give this one a quick stab between my longer efforts.
Not quite clocking at 1000 words, I followed the prompt on her site which included four elements (and a wild card)
Vet
Ex-superhero
Lottery tickets
A door that won’t open
Wild card! Tell your story as a romance
The story was only lightly edited after it was written, so forgive me if there are any flaws.
Comments are always appreciated.
Jake’s Superette
Sad beep. Sigh.
Sad beep. Sigh.
Sad beep. S—
“Nuthin’?” asked the little shit at the register who couldn’t be more than fifteen, judging by the he sparse, fuzzy apology for a moustache boys his age favored.
I am sharing those daily flash fiction prompts generated by AI that I personally feel are worth pursuing. Readers are welcome to try their hand at writing based on the prompts generated for this exercise, the goals of which are explained in this post.
Today’s prompt:
Genre: Noir
Subgenre/Theme: Occult Detective / Rainy City Cynicism
Prompt Elements:
The Neon Confessional: A low-rent detective agency located directly behind a massive, buzzing neon billboard that flickers in a sequence that inadvertently mimics Morse code.
The Lead-Lined Briefcase: An anonymous client leaves behind a case that is impossibly heavy for its size and remains freezing cold to the touch, even in the sweltering city heat.
The Silver-Nitrate Source: A cynical morgue photographer who develops crime scene photos using a strange chemical wash that occasionally reveals the last shadow that fell across a victim’s face.
The Charged Downpour: A localized, three-block radius where the rain carries a faint, static charge. It doesn’t electrocute, but it raises the hair on the back of the neck, makes the air taste sharply of ozone and copper, and leaves a mild, stinging prickle on any exposed skin.
I am sharing flash fiction prompts generated by AI unless I don’t feel they are personally worth pursuing. Readers are welcome to try their hand at writing based on the prompts generated for this exercise, the goals of which are explained in this post.
Today’s prompt:
Subgenre: Appalachian Gothic / Cosmic Horror
Key Elements:
A mine shaft that was sealed up fifty years ago but has started breathing.
A family bible with names burned out rather than crossed out.
The sound of a fiddle playing a song that has no end.
A jar of moonshine that doesn’t reflect the light.
Optional Tone Constraint: The narrator must be unreliable.
Seattle, South of Pioneer Square Station ruins; 73 years after The Fall
Kit Keyes could just see the daylight at the end of the tunnel from where she stood on the rusted, flaking remains of light rail tracks. There was not much sun to set the the end of the tunnel alight, as the perpetual twilight of the monsoons filtered out most of it before it even had a chance to get to the ground. It was pervasive gloom that came with the winter months around November and sometimes lasted until as late as May. She half-disbelieved the elders when they said that it had not always been this way; she had known nothing but the winter monsoons for her twenty years of age.
She watched for shadows in that twilight. Patrols regularly cleared out the tunnels of the dwindling population of raiders and ne’er-do-well types that tested the clan’s defenses on a perennial basis north of The Square, only to discover the defenses had only hardened since their last attempt. A few hundred meter south, on the other hand — that section had never been properly secured. Something about that open mouth bothered her this morning. She could not put her finger on what, something that bothered her more than the empty space itself.
It just so happened that south of the Square was some of the best fungus forage on the Line.
Sometimes you have to know when to just give something a rest and a rethink.
I was merrily pounding on my keyboard a story for the flash fiction prompt I posted earlier, having quickly developed an idea earlier in the day — when I came to a sudden impasse.
Two things went wrong.
My imperfect memory of the geography of Seattle was partly to blame. The light rail system did not exist when I lived there and my planned story relied on several elements that were just not the reality of the situation on the ground. When I grew suspicious I checked out a few details and caught that flaw.
That was a hurdle I probably could have overcome. Just change assumptions to fit the real world geography and modify a few words here and there. Easy-peasy, lemon-squeezy.
I am sharing flash fiction prompts generated by AI for my own use unless I don’t think they are worth pursuing. Readers are welcome to try their hand at writing based on the prompts generated for this exercise.
Notes about modifications made to the AI instructions or this post template are at the end of this post if you are curious about such things.
Feel free to skip these posts if you feel you are not the target audience. If you choose not to participate, there is no need to let us know about your preferences and opinions about these prompts, or the use of artificial intelligence to generate writing prompts.
Today’s prompt:
Genre: Speculative fiction
Subgenre: Biopunk / Post-Apocalyptic
Target Length: < 2,000 words
Key Elements:
A genetically modified plant that blooms only in moonlight.
A rusted key that opens nothing in the protagonist’s possession.
The sound of running water where there should be none.
A faded photograph of a skyline that no longer exists.
Rin looked out over the Land of Mists from the tower she kept her watch from, a tower built entirely of unmarked rice paper and bamboo where she slept when she needed rest, and where she ate when she was given offerings by visitors coming to pay their respect to the memories of the ancestors — those memories captured in the paper of the lands proper. True to the name, the mists and clouds flowed through the city with only a single living resident, that being Rin. The white fog snaked through the streets inked with the stories of ancestors, often obscuring the memories unless someone were to stand before them.
