tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post4855888820707464696..comments2024-03-18T09:09:59.625-04:00Comments on Janet Reid, Literary Agent: Go Set a Watchman flash fiction writing contestJanet Reidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00615380335938685231noreply@blogger.comBlogger84125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-78385026030861549702015-07-19T04:25:31.284-04:002015-07-19T04:25:31.284-04:00Everybody knew him as the flim-flam man. He was a ...Everybody knew him as the flim-flam man. He was a douche. A total douche. For shock effect, he’d pull out of thin air, a lifeless white mouse, dangling by the tail.<br />“Watch closely, ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, as I give this dead mouse life.”<br />Such a charlatan! Why couldn’t anyone else deduce it? I’d seen him administer a drug by syringe. Impossibly, it seemed to make the poor rodent’s heartbeat stop.<br />More potent than I thought. Douche now lies on the floor, saliva drooling. I should feel sympathy. I don’t. I have to finish him off.<br />Gingermollymarilynhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/15684318210445109786noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-54690352495945017502015-07-19T03:57:35.958-04:002015-07-19T03:57:35.958-04:00Tottestossen—total destruction--was the Fuhrer’s o...Tottestossen—total destruction--was the Fuhrer’s order. It was the job of soldiers like Lieutenant Schenkner to ensure that everything of infrastructural value was blown apart or reduced to flames. <br />His squad stood before a Polish chapel, its vestibule made flimsy by bombardment. Schenkner and his father had prayed at the small church years ago, on the way to visit Helena in the sanatorium. Both were gone now, all his family. The Fatherland was in retreat. <br />Hoffman approached with his flamethrower. Schenkner checked his watch as a Russian shell burst in the nearby cemetery. <br />“No time,” he ordered, “Move out.” <br />Mark Ellishttps://www.blogger.com/profile/17262292085318047939noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-79950325766376830582015-07-19T03:02:33.223-04:002015-07-19T03:02:33.223-04:00The old woman’s already flimsy sanity had deterior...The old woman’s already flimsy sanity had deteriorated exponentially of late, and so a decision was made and she was passed onto her daughter. <br /><br />If the man had known this, the killing would've been simple, not the flamboyant affair of cut flesh and oozing blood—a tedious process, but, well, artistic integrity. <br /><br />The old woman watched, paralyzed, by the doorway for a total of two minutes before he noticed. <br /><br />He winked before climbing out the window. Screams followed. <br /><br />He didn’t care.<br /><br />Even if her mind wasn’t half gone, no-one would believe it was black-caped Death who had courted her daughter.Anonymoushttps://www.blogger.com/profile/03222961195087264708noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-47280732130340813142015-07-19T02:15:45.619-04:002015-07-19T02:15:45.619-04:00The downtown night air reeked of booze, cheap perf...The downtown night air reeked of booze, cheap perfume, and suckers ripe for the pickings. Josh, self-proclaimed world’s greatest flim-flam man, backed into the shadows to scope out his next mark.<br /><br /> “Fifi, Snookums, where are you two?” a curvy red-head hollered.<br /><br />Josh’s watchful eyes zoned in on the diamonds dangling from her ears and stepped into the light. “May I be of assistance, Ma’am?”<br /><br />“Oh, goodness you gave me such a fright,” she said, theatrically patting her chest. “Why, yes.” Her onceover took in his designer suit. “Yes, you may.” <i>This will totally be my easiest con ever.</i> She smiled.<br />Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-19717531634018290762015-07-19T01:03:33.721-04:002015-07-19T01:03:33.721-04:00She adjusted the manifold just so after watching h...She adjusted the manifold just so after watching him do it all these years. However, this time his tractor ride in the field will be different. With the turn of the key, the flames should engulf the tractor and him totally. <br /><br />"Like a flimmer parade" she mused. <br /><br />Everyone knows the old German didn't take care of his things; the same way he didn't take care in his marriage. It will be a fine accident.<br />Janice Grinyerhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/14363741660626407979noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-35004491116264351762015-07-19T00:04:07.620-04:002015-07-19T00:04:07.620-04:00The need blazed in his steel blue eyes as my flims...<i>The need blazed in his steel blue eyes as my flimsy negligee surrendered to his impatient hands.</i><br /><br />“Mommy! Watch me!”<br /><br />The scene retreated into the glaring light ricocheting off poolside concrete that was as harsh and unyielding as the totality of my loveless marriage. <br /><br />“Yes, Honey, I’m watching.” <br /><br />Clutching the romance novel that spurred my dream, I closed my eyes, longing to experience what came next.<br /><br /><i>Blond hair. Shimmering bronze skin.</i> <br /><br />“Mommy!”<br /><br />“I’m watching.” The indulgent reflex was heavy in my voice.<br /><br /><i>Rippling muscles.</i> <br /><br />“Mommy!”<br /><br />“What is it?” <br /><br />The empty flamingo raft, swinging gate, and man-size wet footprints answered me. <br />Terri Lynn Coophttps://www.blogger.com/profile/07290316565247120848noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-85698730889638329722015-07-18T23:58:34.234-04:002015-07-18T23:58:34.234-04:00“Good gastronomic evening, watchlings!”
“Bloody g...“Good gastronomic evening, <b>watch</b>lings!”<br /><br />“Bloody good one, if I do say so," he gestured to the <b>man</b>nekin holding his apron, paraboling <b>flim</b>sy arms the girth of dual popsicle sticks.<br /><br />A lackey gave the grinder two test-cranks off-stage.<br /><br />“We’ve already experimented with broasted, flayed, and julienned. Or should I say Julienne?” His white-picket grin cued bloodless laughter.<br /><br />As the machine was wheeled out, he explained it was already loaded.<br /><br />“Tonight we <b>flam</b>e-broil,” he promised, to a riot of cheers.<br /><br />Chef Dirk set to mincing the meat, yet I couldn’t help but hear <b>Total</b> cereal crunching under mukluks, Neanderthal diet be damned.Leigh Ward-Smithhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/14812312237534153896noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-85832584928579154932015-07-18T23:21:15.992-04:002015-07-18T23:21:15.992-04:00On flimsy, whimsy wings
hov’ring above the feed...On flimsy, whimsy wings <br />hov’ring above the feeder,<br />a helicopting bird<br />quick quaffs the sweetened water.<br /><br /><br />Never a teetotaler,<br />(hence their red swatch-ed throat?)<br />it darts a look, here and there.<br />Then, quiv’ring, soars en garde. <br /><br /><br />Opposite floats an intruder.<br />Inflamed they rush and thrust<br />Maneuv’ring for the prized treasure,<br />Parry, riposte, and flunge.<br /><br /><br />With one last thrilling chase,<br />the champ returns for a breather.<br />(How shall I know who won?)<br />It perches and sips red nectar.<br />Lisa Bodenheimhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/17809067722921953857noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-1842800990358298522015-07-18T22:39:42.327-04:002015-07-18T22:39:42.327-04:00It was a flimsy way to die. Instead of being buri...It was a flimsy way to die. Instead of being buried in an avalanche or attacked by a mandrill, my body chose to mount an inflammatory attack against itself. One by one, my organs failed. The nurses on the night watch hovered, awaiting my last breath. I drifted in and out of consciousness until midnight, when one of them announced, "The family's arrived."<br /><br />My brain rioted. Having to listen, mutely, to my wife and her teetotaling relatives was a fate far worse than death. With one last, supreme effort, I reached up and disconnected my respirator.Just Janhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/12546035917149403735noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-46620464300632602512015-07-18T22:34:20.294-04:002015-07-18T22:34:20.294-04:00The servant watch me as she makes the bed, I know ...The servant watch me as she makes the bed, I know who I am the product of the man; some call the legend, yet they never total the atrocities he's responsible for. My life cannot be simplified in less words because pain although it gets well--easier nonetheless the memories of pain lingers, the flim flam of my fathers personal and professional life is like a haunting thinking back to the place I called home and the person I became truth of the matter I had a choice to be different but I chose the easy path.Keisha Martin Romance Writerhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/04075320694648296594noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-39501863636869961182015-07-18T22:24:32.308-04:002015-07-18T22:24:32.308-04:00“Hey Manny, try to pull a swatch of blood from the...“Hey Manny, try to pull a swatch of blood from the carpet in the kitchen,” Detective Goodman said pointing toward the back door. “Careful, there’s glass all over the place.”<br />“If there’s anything left after the flames,” his partner answered.<br />Goodman sat back looking over the body. <br />“It doesn’t make sense to me. Why break the glass when all the perp had to do was lean into the back door? It’s so damn flimsy,” Manny said. “More importantly, who murdered the mayor, stole his car and totaled it? <br />“The person who torched this place. That’s who.” <br />Manny’s eyebrow lifted.cgarwriterhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/17862563542788896947noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-37029569527911213992015-07-18T22:19:58.429-04:002015-07-18T22:19:58.429-04:00The flamingos were her favorite. The slender neck,...The flamingos were her favorite. The slender neck, the pink feathers, the legs that looked flimsy but were probably sturdier than her own. She watched them with delighted curiosity, so enthralled that she didn’t notice the man who was talking to her mother off to the side of the exhibit. She didn’t hear the hushed tones of a hatched plan plotting the murder of her philandering father. She didn’t see the money that exchanged hands or troubled glance her mother sent her way. The total experience lost on her, the memory only fully returning twenty years after her father’s death.Mallory Lovehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/16282261391938135052noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-33494477869661388772015-07-18T21:57:10.783-04:002015-07-18T21:57:10.783-04:00Who dares judge society’s watchdogs?
You?
Hardly.
...Who dares judge society’s watchdogs?<br />You?<br />Hardly.<br />People say they want a hero. <br />Someone above the petty struggles of race, or religion. <br />A champion, to ensure justice is served – to guarantee everyone gets their fair slice of that bitter, inflammatory pie.<br />You haven’t the faintest idea what justice is.<br />What you want is the other guy put away; for any flimsy reason. <br />Catch the other criminals.<br />Punish them.<br />Not you – your actions were justified.<br />Well… when it’s all totaled up.<br />Be careful what you wish for.<br />You might get it.<br />I flex my mandibles, noisily.<br />Justice is near.<br />… soon.<br />Scott Sloanhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/05331803044056836688noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-4900585689068809922015-07-18T21:29:16.797-04:002015-07-18T21:29:16.797-04:00“Flambé! You went all out, didn’t you?” I giggle a...“<b>Flam</b>bé! You went all out, didn’t you?” I giggle and twirl my hair. <br />“I did, didn’t I?” he agrees. “I <i>am</i> the Home Ec teacher.”<br />The cherries are hot as I bring them to my lips, but I make a show of licking them anyway. <br /><b>Flim</b>sy black netting peeks out beneath my skirt. I lean back on the couch. <i>Man…too easy.</i><br />He moves in, begins unbuttoning my shirt. “Sure you’re only fourteen?”<br />“<b>Total</b>ly,” I agree, pulling the gun tucked under my waistband. Yes! Not even nine o’clock, I think, <b>watch</b>ing the color drain from his face. “Dude, you’re under arrest.”<br />Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-83810069777890817672015-07-18T20:46:55.205-04:002015-07-18T20:46:55.205-04:00“WATCH OUT!” I swerved in response - heart poundin...“WATCH OUT!” I swerved in response - heart pounding , knuckles gripping the wheel. <br />“What? What happened?!”<br /> “Didn’t you see the sign?”<br /> “What sign?”<br /> “The caution sign?” <br />“The bridge may be icy sign? That sign?”<br />He chuckled. <br />“It’s August for Christ sake! “<br />He smirked. <br />“You’re an idiot” I said as my pulse slowed – “I could have wrecked, the car could have been totaled. We could’ve been killed.”<br />“I’m not an idiot – I’m a flim-flam man” he said with smug pride. <br />“Well, then, I guess I’m the idiot”, I muttered<br />“What’s that?” he asked<br />“I said I love you”.Bisi Cameronhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/17604150991700851212noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-85889929335662671272015-07-18T20:41:22.191-04:002015-07-18T20:41:22.191-04:00I leaned over the flimsy railing and checked my wa...I leaned over the flimsy railing and checked my watch. Thirty minutes since lunch.<br /><br />My new husband emerged from the ocean, his normally flamboyant gray hair plastered to his skull. “I love you,” he mouthed.<br /><br />Yeah, I love you too. Forty minutes.<br /><br />A handsome man offered me a drink. No way. I pointed to my wedding ring, pleased to prove my total faithfulness. Forty-five minutes.<br /><br />My husband stiffened in his beach chair as if planning to stand. I looked concerned. Fifty minutes.<br /><br />His body relaxed. His head lolled to the right.<br /><br />Fifty-five minutes. My late husband was early for everything.<br />Cindy Chttps://www.blogger.com/profile/13196306055833459983noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-32447481642983983342015-07-18T20:33:21.527-04:002015-07-18T20:33:21.527-04:00“Chris’ll take ginger ale with lime.” His wife wat...“Chris’ll take ginger ale with lime.” His wife watched his reaction.<br />“Bit early for you?” someone joked. <br />“No, no,” she said, “He’s become a teetotaler.” <br /><br />His friends unconsciously cradled their mint juleps a little closer. Chris longed for the flaming coolness. Maybe he could sneak a little moscow into his mule. <br />No. <br />Alice said liquor, or her. He couldn’t imagine being that low. <br /><br />Except he just did. And Alice’s announcement told him she had, too. <br /><br />Suddenly, he knew last week was a flimsy imitation of rock bottom. He excused himself. He needed to be alone.RachelErinhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/09510327163701754950noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-17272056944226046512015-07-18T20:28:52.924-04:002015-07-18T20:28:52.924-04:00“Syd, this lizard has a third eye. Come see.”
The...“Syd, this lizard has a third eye. Come see.”<br /><br />They approached the lizard, sunning itself on a rock. The rogue eye was above the jawbone and blinked more slowly than the others.<br /><br />Syd shuddered. “Let’s kill it.”<br /><br />“I wouldn’t,” the lizard said.<br /><br />Darius’s jaw dropped. “It’s talking.”<br /><br />“Cut the ‘it’ nonsense. Man, totally superior? Such flim-flam. You disgusting—”<br /><br /><i>Boom!</i> Syd’s bullet struck the lizard’s chest. Syd and Darius looked at each other, then ran.<br /><br />The lizard watched them flee with all three eyes, pain blossoming his cold blood. The wound was healing. He’d get revenge. Soon.Karen McCoyhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/02640324898284007337noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-16690780051735186252015-07-18T20:02:24.790-04:002015-07-18T20:02:24.790-04:00“Take it,” she said. “You’ll need it.” I took the ...“Take it,” she said. “You’ll need it.” I took the watch, kissed her and managed to fit into the capsule. I had been training for weeks, but the timing was unexpected. The flames were closing in on the final survivors, and I knew soon there would be a total of one human left.<br />As the capsule began to spin at full speed, I wondered about the flimsy siding used to piece the machine together. After about ten minutes, I stopped abruptly. I looked at the watch and opened the capsule door. The time of day was right--50 years earlier.AChttps://www.blogger.com/profile/15615076270347910270noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-55666331817857929092015-07-18T19:27:39.804-04:002015-07-18T19:27:39.804-04:00It was the electric peach Izod polo that caught my...It was the electric peach Izod polo that caught my attention. Not one with the new monogram but the old kind with the TOTALly obnoxious gator on it. <br /><br />He reached up and with a FLIMsy flip of the wrist refeathered his hair. A FLAMing red SWATCH with a gray rubber face protector adorned his wrist. Designer acid-washed jeans and synthetic leather boat shoes completed his grody ensemble.<br /><br />Why he thought something transformative decades ago was worth revisiting now MANaged to baffle me. Must be one of those Buttonweezer types.Jeff Deiteringhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/09083122110139952278noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-77357177115794220722015-07-18T18:42:51.314-04:002015-07-18T18:42:51.314-04:00“Gotta watch dat man,” George Lagis said as he rea...“Gotta watch dat man,” George Lagis said as he reached down to scratch his crotch. “He be trouble.”<br /> Seven year old Jake looked over at the man stepping out of the big black car. “Who is he?”<br /> “You jes stay away, dat’s all ya have ta know.”<br /> George reached out the same hand he had scratched with to tousle Jake’s hair. <br /> “You had that hand on your balls.” Jake ducked away. “Total gross out.”<br /> George barked a laugh and held up one finger to the boy, “Jes watch out fo’ dat flim flam man.”<br />Aimlesswriterhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/03012050763172251381noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-65703811744435889622015-07-18T18:35:07.146-04:002015-07-18T18:35:07.146-04:00Yale and Haerter drew sentry duty.
“Let no unauth...Yale and Haerter drew sentry duty.<br /><br />“Let no unauthorized personnel or vehicles pass.”<br /><br />“Yes, Sergeant.” Duh. They knew their jobs.<br /><br />Minutes later, a large blue truck accelerated down the Iraqi alley.<br /><br />Six seconds to live.<br /><br />“Not on my watch.” The two sentries stood their ground and leveled their weapons.<br /><br />Four.<br /><br />The truck accelerated, the man behind the wheel resolute.<br /><br />Three.<br /><br />Without hesitation, the sentries faced death and opened fire, emptying their weapons.<br /><br />The truck detonated, explosion and flames shattering the sky.<br /><br />Total devastation.<br /><br />Two Marines dead. One hundred fifty brothers safe, offlimits to terrorists.<br /><br />Semper fi.<br /><br />http://www.businessinsider.com/john-kellys-speech-about-marines-in-ramadi-2013-6<br />Dena Pawlinghttps://www.blogger.com/profile/14444683810125395220noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-19709917440498886532015-07-18T18:24:15.045-04:002015-07-18T18:24:15.045-04:00Night watchman darkens the store one last time. Lo...Night watchman darkens the store one last time. Lock clicks. I peek from my hiding spot. Toy soldier, teetotaler it turns out, toots his trumpet. Party!<br /><br />There are flimsier reasons to celebrate. Black Friday comes to mind.<br /> <br />Barbie tickles the Big piano. I gnaw a fire-sale price tag off my neck – even this stuffed lion has some pride – and share a drink with an American Girl. <i>Hey man, ya never know, right?</i> Then G.I. Joe saunters over and kills the mood.<br /><br />This, too, will flame out. But not till we cross Fifth Avenue and rock the Plaza one final night.John Frainhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/01702305890462479118noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-36670938762314012632015-07-18T18:20:34.122-04:002015-07-18T18:20:34.122-04:00I should be elated, right?
Under my watchful guid...I should be elated, right?<br /><br />Under my watchful guidance, Bill changed radically, presumably for the better. He transformed from dipsomaniac to teetotaler in record time. He replaced womanizing and nightclubs with couch-surfing, and foodie blogs. Once a trading floor workhorse, he’s now devoted to me … endlessly … and his meager take-home corroborates his renewed commitment.<br /> <br />I douse him with my favorite fragrance and we head to Havisham’s; he adores their cherries jubilee.<br /><br />A strange coincidence occurred as the flambé was served. My flimsy heel snapped, my foot collided with the waiter’s, and the sloshed cherries ignited Bill’s cologne.<br /><br />Oops.<br />Steven D.https://www.blogger.com/profile/07376948819582291041noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-15679014700447844232015-07-18T17:47:28.625-04:002015-07-18T17:47:28.625-04:00“Feel,” she demands, so you lie awake tracing tiny...“Feel,” she demands, so you lie awake tracing tiny feet as she dances flamencos inside your distended belly.<br /><br />“Watch,” she demands, so you roll out of bed in total darkness to see what Santa brought her.<br /><br />“Listen,” she demands, so you wrap the robe tighter around your shoulders as she lays out her flimsy, post-curfew excuse.<br /><br />“Smell?” she asks, so you rub sleep from your eyes before concurring her daughter needs a fresh diaper.<br /><br />“Eat,” she pleads, so you lift your head enough to sip a spoonful of your—now her—famous chicken soup.<br /><br />“Rest,” she concedes.<br /><br />So you sleep.Kat Waclawikhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/08400506782075111303noreply@blogger.com