Flash Fiction: Future Art

This was boring.

I should have expected this when I signed up for the ‘Art of the Future’ fair. However, my then alcohol fuelled brain had failed to consider how boring the endeavour could be. The art structure in front of me was titled ‘Fuel of the Future’. The artist was proudly presenting it as his vision of a post ten year future: Flying cars which recharged with giant plugs. I shrugged as I clicked my chronometer and travelled twenty years into the future, where I hailed from.

I tsked as I saw the streets still crowded by cars…

Word Count: 99


Friday Fictioneers 12th July 2019

Flash Fiction: Disrespect

Sarah finished buttoning her skirt, just in time to see Jasper pulling on his pants.

Jasper looked around uncomfortably. Sarah sighed.

“Okay, what is it? What’s wrong?”

“You know Sarah, I think what we did was wrong. We should not have done this in the graveyard. It was a bad idea.”

Sarah smirked.

“Really? Now you think it is wrong. You did not think it was wrong when I was giving you the time of your life? I did not hear you complaining then. You were as loud as I was.”

Jasper shivered.

“I still think we showed disrespect to the dead here.”

Sarah laughed.

“I think the only disrespect you showed, was to me. And I enjoyed every inch of it.”

Before Jasper could respond, a sound coming from the trees broke the silence of the graveyard. Jasper and Sarah looked around trying to find the source of the sound. They did not have to search for long. A lady carrying a lamp made her appearance. Jasper and Sarah looked at each other, and then looked back at the lady. But, they saw nothing. The lady had disappeared.

The couple realized too late that the lady had appeared right behind their backs. The realization had come in the form of a strong shove that launched the lovers on to the ground. The silent lady took the two unconscious lovers by their heads and dragged them towards a fresh grave.


Here lie Jasper and Sarah, disrespecters of the dead….

Word Count: 250


Time To Write: Giving

Inspiration Call: Flash Fiction Friday

Flash Fiction: Writing in the Sand

Detective Burns knew that he could not afford to waste any time because innocent lives were at stake.

In truth, when the call was received, Burns had ignored it as a prank, since no sane person would call and indifferently declare three murders.

However, upon inquiry, Burns realized that three people had indeed been reported missing.

Heart thumping in his chest, Burns reached the beach, at the location specified by the caller.

As soon as he saw the two Ks etched in the sand, Burns teared up.

The buried, hacked bodies confirmed the return of the Krooked Killer.


Weekly Writing Prompt #157

50 Word Thursday #17

Six Sentence Story “Difference”

Flash Fiction: Not Time

I ride into the army of red coats, swarming my home like ants. They will not capture my home so easily.

My noble steed needs no directions from me. He rides straight through their ranks, letting me tear them down with my swords – flashes of silver lightning.

Even after hours of fighting, my conquest seems hopeless. Most of my men are dead or wounded. I feel my eyes closing.


For the sake of my little baby and my kingdom, I cannot give in. Death will have to wait to claim the queen.

My time has not come!


(Read more about Rani Laxmibai of Jhansi here 🙂 )


Word Count: 99

Prompts used:

Carrot Ranch May 31, 2018

Masters of Writing Flash Fiction Challenge Week 7


Image Credits: https://histoireparlesfemmes.com/2016/09/12/chennamma-reine-rebelle-de-kittur/

Flash Fiction: Out of Time

Damn! He is right on clock – four pm.  I knew this was coming. I knew it for a whole week but I still am no better off. It is not that I did not try. I just could not do it.

I see him approaching he will be up in another five minutes. Think. Think. I need more time. He will have what he wants if only he can give me more time. Wait a minute -Time! That’s it. I need to give him time in order for me to get it from him. My grandfather’s watch has served me well over the years – Right from my tenth birthday to this very day. Twenty long years, it has been with me. Sounds almost poetic to me – ‘What showed me the time for all these years, will buy me time today.’

I hear the knocking on the door. He has arrived. Need to make this work.

Time for time – a fair deal.


Word Count: 165

Written in response to Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers Challenge # 166

This week’s photo prompt is provided by Enisa. Thank you Enisa! 🙂