This week’s prompts are at the bottom. The flash fiction below was written for practice; because practice makes perfect.
It never failed. Filmore opened up his mouth and an avalanche of words tumbled forth threatening to bury anyone within range of his voice. This time was no different, except this time he had an audience comprised of more than family members or doctors. That morning he had walked out of the facility behind Dr Gold and no one had noticed. Dr Gold was still new, so he hadn’t recognized the breach of security. He hadn’t recognized Filmore either.
Clothes were easy, there were strip malls with Laundromats about and people don’t pay attention to dryers that don’t contain their own clothes. So, wearing an ill-fitting orange tee shirt that proclaimed he was the world’s greatest grandpa and baggy red plaid flannel pyjama pants he loosed himself on the unsuspecting public. He was only lacking shoes; shoes and an automobile. Shoes to keep his feet from blistering on the hot pavement, and an automobile to get him to the inner city. People would listen to him there.
He looked into the cars in the lot but no one had left their keys in their ignitions. He kept walking and had gone less than half a mile before arriving at a liquor store, or an off-license, as his mum would have called it. He struck pay dirt when he found a pea green Buick idling near the front door. It was a luxury automobile.
He snuck up on it and moved stealthily from car, to bush, to trash can, to car until he could crawl along the final bit of asphalt and reach up to open the driver’s door. He took the car and on his way out of the lot, he noticed a pile of heavy plastic milk crates near the end of the building. Stopping, he dashed from the vehicle and snagged a crate which he tossed into the passenger seat as he jumped in. He ratcheted the shifter into Drive and laid rubber on the highway, heading for town.
Now he was in a large park, standing barefoot on an upside-down milk crate. He was telling a growing crowd that, the entire universe and everyone’s memories had been created just last Thursday. His words fell on disbelieving ears until he started singling people out, “Prove me wrong!” he shouted to the doubters in his audience. Fights began to break out between the believers and those who couldn’t see, who refused to understand. Things were beginning to heat up, soon he’d have them eating from his hands. They’d be pliable then, easy to control.
This week’s prompts are:
- Mom needs more sugar
- we think you know someone
- Claire left
Go ahead and dive in, set your imagination free!
Ready, Set, Go – you have 25 minutes, but if that is not possible, take as long as you need.