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One of the writing sites I am part of issues challenges. Sometimes when I am having issues with writers block or just need a change of pace from the normal stuff I work on, I pull one out of the plot bunnie folder and go to work.  As of yesterday, I started following plinky prompts. Their prompt today (Do you prefer sunrise or sunset) fit one of my challenges perfectly.   300 – 500 words and must include the following words.  Sunrise, Sunset, Pillow Talk, 20 questions, Campfire, and any alcoholic drink name.

Nope, I dont have a title for it yet… not even a working one. Isn’t that funny how it seems to be the case with all of my flash fiction. I guess its just something in the shortness of the stories that wont speak to me or tell me thier names.

“Do you prefer a sunrise or sunset?”

“Sunrise.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know.”

“How can you not know? I mean you chose sunrise, after all.”

Brenda sighed. She hated talking to him after sex. The twenty-question game was not what she would call pillow talk. The only thing to shut him up was more sex or getting up and leaving. Since it was her apartment, she had no intention of leaving and was just not in the mood for more sex.

Kyle’s fingers idly skimmed the exposed skin and felt the moment when she tensed. His hand stilled at the nape of her neck. “It was just a question.”

It was only a slight intake of breath but it was enough to set Kyle off. “What is your problem?”

“My problem? I don’t know maybe the stupid questions. Why can you just be like every other guy I know and roll over and pretend to go to sleep. Oh wait, that’s what you do to your wife.”

There were times when she wished there was a way of getting out of the bed without appearing to scramble. It was hard to look aloof on her hands and knees crawling across the bed.

“Stupid questions? I was trying to do that share thing you women are so big on.”

Standing there in the middle of the floor Brenda debated pulling the sheet off the bed to wrap around her and then decided a shirt would be better. It wasn’t a surprise he completely ignored the part about his wife. “This relationship was never about sharing. We were good in bed. I had one too many Jack and coke’s and you gave me this sad story about your wife.”

He ground his bottom teeth into the top in an effort to avoid saying something he knew he would regret. Which wasn’t made any easier with Brenda’s attitude. “Right now I am supposed to be sitting around a campfire with my wife and kids but I choose to be with you.”

Brenda snorted, “DO NOT act as if this was for me. This is your ego trip. I am not the one having sex with the secretary.”

By this time Kyle was completely dressed when her words stopped him cold. He didn’t kid himself it wasn’t love but he liked her well enough.  “Neither am I. You’re fired. You can pick up your things in the morning.”

Brenda stood in the middle of the floor and just watched as her boss and former lover stomped across the floor and heard the front door slam. “Awe hell why couldn’t I just say because its beautiful. Now I need to find another job.”


I follow this blog on wordpress called ” Writers Block Busters ” On it she puts a prompt of a question, a sentence and a paragraph to get the juices flowing. Well, coupled with a program that I have called “write or die” I try to get my thousand words a day written.

Her post on sunday was ….  It’s a pisser having to be the responsible one. And here is my 500 word piece of flash fiction. (15 minutes and 504 words)  I don’t have a title for it yet.  Thanks Cyrannette.  Here is a link to her blog  http://helpfromcyranette.wordpress.com

——————

It’s a pisser having to be the responsible one. Yet here I was again cleaning up after my big brother. So much for being the youngest child.

I folded the woman’s arms over her chest in an attempt to make it look like she was sleeping. Not that was happening considering the gaping hole in the middle of her chest.

“Just leave her and get your ass out of there before someone sees you.” Dustin hissed.

I looked back over my shoulder to glare at the oaf who screwed-up again. “Damn it we can’t just leave her like this. If your drunken ass hadn’t shot off your mouth we wouldn’t be here now. Help me or shut the hell up so I can do this. “

He snorted in the background but I noticed he did not come any closer nor did he offer to help clean up. I added another bloody baby wipe to the pile. All that was left was the face and then we wouldn’t have to worry about Dustin’s DNA to tracing back to him.

“Arn’t you done yet,” his voice hissed in my ear.

If my mother had known the things I would do when she requested I watch after him on her deathbed, I know she wouldn’t have made me promise. “You’re doing it again, you stupid ass. You’ve contaminated the body and left evidence the police can use to put your sorry self in jail. Then tell me who will want to hire a contract killer who can’t keep out of lock up.”

Dustin was chagrined. I knew he couldn’t help it and instantly felt terrible. Richard our oldest brother got him started down this path and then gave up on him when he felt Dustin was too dumb. Richard had a point but abandoning Dustin was too much like kicking a dog. Neither of them understood what they had done or why someone they loved could hurt them.

I gathered the pile of bloody wipes and put them in a plastic bag that I carried around just for situations like this. “Look she is cleaned up. Let me just wipe down the car and then we could go.”

“Thanks Janet. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

I sighed. What else could I do? “I know Dustin, don’t worry about it.”

I surveyed the scene and stomped on a couple of places that looked like they could be a footprint and decided I had done as much as I could.

We had already been here fifteen minutes and our time was running out. “Let’s go.”

There was nothing I could do to eliminate the tracks the pick-up would leave. Truth was I could only hope that Dustin still had that spare set of tires back at his place. If not a trip to pick and pull was in order.

We had been driving out away from my handiwork for about twenty minutes and my cellphone started chirping.

“This is Sheriff Watkins. How can I help you?”


I kept hearing about writing software that was supposed to help you organize your work and create a better writing experence.I found several. I am trying one right now and so far I have been happy. But in my search I found something really good.

How many times have you had writers block. You might write but cant stand what you have written and normally just get rid of it moments after you type.  Yea me too.  So while I was searching for a writers program I found something called    Write or Die. It is completely AWESOME!!!

You choose the amount of time you have to write 10, 15, 20 minutes and so on. Then you choose what kind of punishment you get for not writing. From just a warning to deleting what you were typing.  I don’t know if this would work for long fiction, but maybe if you are having a problem with a scene but it is a fantastic tool for flash fiction.

It comes as an app for your desk top ($10.00) or tablet or ipad ($4.00)  and an online version for free. Here is the link for the online version of the app.  Write or DIE

Right now I am using 1 sentence writing prompts as the first line and going from there.

——————

Here is my first attempt.  I am sorry it is awfully dark. I was given some terrible news and needed to work out some of the emotion.

Life or death. There isn’t anything less complicated than that. Unless it is choosing how you die. Most often than not you don’t even think about it, but today you do. There is the revolver laying on the table. You would have chosen a better way to it but today you have no choice.  You think of the mess it will leave for your family to clean up and wish again that you never made this deal.

You look around the room at the hooded 12. They stand there as the silent witness and most likely one of them will finish you off if you can’t manage to pull that trigger. Again you wish it could be something kinder like pills that make you go to sleep and don’t let you wake up. Even criminals get that much.

You pick up the gun and study the shiny black metal and for the first time in your life you realize that the design of the piece is beautiful. And here even the weight seems different as if to say …stop and think about what you are doing.

The twelve have started to chant. You think once more about family you are about to leave behind and wonder if they will understand the decision you made. You hope so because only that would make it senseless.  You take a deep breath knowing that you are procrastinating.

The metal is cold as the barrel enters your mouth. A giggle escapes as you think about the spit that is running down the barrel. You think to yourself ‘you can do this.’ A thought, a silent goodbye and you pull the trigger.

Click.

You pull the barrel from your mouth in confusion.

“Congratulations, child you have passed the test.”

You reel in confusion. Test? You were supposed to die. If this was the test maybe it was better you had died, because what was next was bound to be hell on earth.