Friday, August 29, 2014

Flash Fiction - Of Moths and Ninjas

So, during the last couple nights, my friends and I thought it'd be fun to do some writing prompts. However, I was on some pretty strong medication for pain in my neck, so I was a bit loopy. My friends even built a tiddlyspot page for our flash fiction, the tagline poking a bit of fun about my current 'state' as an inside joke. I might share the link to that page someday, but for now, I'll just share a couple of my own.

Even though my attempts turned out on the wacky, slightly morbid side, it was great to just write and set my inner crazy person free, without anything stopping me. Like, sense or responsibility. Am I rhyming? Weird. Anyway, these were written purely for my own amusement, but I hope you enjoy my bits of nonsense. :P



Flash Fic 1

There was a moth, born of death and chaos, risen from the charred remains of his brethren of the night. His name was Flavio.
Black as night, his wings were painted with the blood of his foes. Where ever he went, he turned the evil drug known as fire against it’s creators, burning cities to their foundations. With a flap of his sleep-powdered wings, he could all who crossed his path into an eternal sleep.
Humans, tormentors of his kind, screamed and fled in terror, but none could stand before him. Save one. Armed with a great fire-stick, their foul ‘champion’ came, brandishing that accursed lure. Even Flavio had to fight against the drawing power of its blaze.
Three days they battled, moth and man, trading wing blasts of poisonous powder with swings of a fire bright as the sun, until with one final blast of his powerful wings, Flavio put out the light and sent the man to his last doze. Only then, did Flavio collapse, never to flap again. And that was the beginning of the Great Moth War.


Flash Fic 2
Upon waking up, I remembered two things; one that I still had an angel tied up in my basement and two, that I really didn't care.
Well, not my basement, but the basement of my latest target. No one was likely to find him, or them, for days.
Serves him right, the cosplaying wacko; showing up at the door and preaching at me about joining their ‘dark side’, trying to lure me with ‘cookies’. They were probably oatmeal, with arsenic. That sounds like a type of cookie the dark side would have. I hate oatmeal. We ninja assassins prefer ours with dark chocolate chips of the night.
Not that I would have considered, even for an instant. His halo hadn't even been on straight, much less believable! Anyone would have seen that it was held in place by a wire. And clearly the glow of his white robes came from some sort of chemical blend, based on the smell of ozone-like smell.
If crazies were going run around dressed up like angels, the least they could do was try to do it right!
Besides, interrupting a ninja assassin in the middle of a hit is generally a bad idea. 
Noobs, I think to myself as I slip out of the master bedroom window and back into the shadows.
P.S. Just for the record, none of this represents my opinions; not even of oatmeal cookies.

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