Voice of the Streets

If you want to participate, here is the link: https://carrotranch.com/2018/12/06/december-6-flash-fiction-challenge/

Under cover of darkness they run along rooftops, scaling walls and dangling from ropes to scrawl messages of political plight and advocate for change.

They are urban activists and urban artists and the city’s streets and walls are their canvases.

The size of the message doesn’t indicate importance, it’s all equal social commentary except perhaps the occasional professions of love which are grand on their own scale.

Graffiti has always been the voice of rebellion, forbidden by law yet still the artists and poets speak and if you listen well enough you can hear the voices of the streets.

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Word count: 99

Prompt: graffiti

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A Dish Best Served Cold

Chain-smoking in the front seat I leaned back into darkness. My plan to park far enough to not be noticed worked and while they fogged up their windows, I exhaled with each drag the sweet smell of revenge I knew was coming.

I had called him earlier to see when he would be home. Another night working late, he was sorry to be missing dinner again with the family but reassured me he was doing it for us, for our family… blah, blah, blah.

The private investigator I hired was expensive but worth it. My husband couldn’t imagine I was capable of deception, and I am not, not like he is, but I am learning. My view of the situation has… changed.

And just as I lit my next cigarette, his brake lights turned on and they reversed, heading down the hill.

My trap had been set. It was showtime.

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Word count: 150

Prompt: view

Further Into The Dark

If you want to participate, here is the link: https://carrotranch.com/2018/11/29/november-29-flash-fiction-challenge/

We walked arms lengths apart scanning the forest floor, our heads sweeping back and forth methodically, praying to recognize anything out of place other than ourselves. It was getting cold as the night crept up behind us. Our hearts were racing as sticks and branches snapped below our feet from our weight. Flashlights turned on, we were nowhere near stopping. She’d already been missing for three days and was out here, somewhere. There was still a chance. The tension was broken as I yelled, “Cara, can you hear me?” Only silence responded as we walked further into the dark.

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Word count: 99

Prompt: “into the dark”

Weeping Silently

The ash rained down from grey skies above as the choking smell of fire coated our lungs, our clothes, our memories.

A skeleton of my childhood home, heaps of twisted metal and ash, incinerated and obliterated, our chimneys spine stands alone.

The magnitude of immediate change and loss of identity has not fully sunk in but I feel the weight of its shadow starting to weigh heavy on my shoulders.

It’s hard to breathe and I choke back tears as I look up and down our street, what was our street, to see a landscape I don’t recognize anymore.

My familiar neighbors don’t fit in this nightmare either as they stand stunned and broken too, on sidewalks that lead to front doors no longer.

We ran with the clothes on our backs.

No photos packed, no memories saved, our pets haven’t been found.

I stand in ash and weep silently.

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Prompt: ash

Word count: 150

Time to Let Go

If you want to participate, here is the link: https://carrotranch.com/2018/11/15/november-15-flash-fiction-challenge/

Sifting through boxes stacked to the ceiling, I relived my old life one memory at a time.

Boxes I packed to one day take with me, instead I sifted through and weaned, taking only the memories I couldn’t part with.

Flashes of childhood, high school, memories of first crushes, of family before the divide.

I discarded some items with ease wondering why I kept such silly things so long, other items required time to mourn.

Life has changed.

I realized these scraps make up me and yet none of these are who I am.

It’s time to let go.

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Prompt: Write about scraps of any kind, why they matter and/or what they make.

Word Count: 99

Cropped Out

I stare at our picture on my computer screen, exhausted. For months, I’ve felt nearly all the emotions anyone could ever possibly feel and now, sitting here on our bed, all I feel is apathy.

When I think about the happiness of us, this is the picture I remember. Snapped when we were skiing in Austria, his brilliant blue eyes dance for the camera, a lighter shade than the sky behind us. They light up his face as he squints in the sun, grinning from ear to ear. His crow’s feet are in their infancy and the four-day shadow that darkens his chin makes him look more rugged than he was. I’m kissing his cheek, and even though all you see is my profile, my cheeks are flushed with happiness.

We’re in love…

…were in love. This picture is all that’s left.

And with a click, I crop him out.

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Prompt: Crop

Word Count: 150

Super Spud

If you want to participate, here is the link: https://carrotranch.com/2018/11/09/november-8-flash-fiction-challenge/

“If Popeye can eat spinach and get super powers, I can eat mashed potatoes and get MY superpowers!”

“Kevin, who wants to eat mashed potatoes to get super powers? That’s lame. Wouldn’t you rather get bit by something and turn into something cool?”

“No. Why should I have to get bitten by something?”

“Um, because that’s what happens. Duh. Mashed potatoes… so lame.”

“It’s my drawing. Stop looking!” I covered my paper with my arm. I was SUPER SPUD! A 50-foot potato with huge mashers for feet, ready to squish my brother, my red cape flapping in the wind.

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Prompt: pair mashed potatoes with a super power

Word Count: 99