For those of us who’ve been writing flash fiction for a while, there are quite a few people we’ve known for a long time. I’ve been posting every Thursday since December 15th 2011, and we’re closing in on our twelfth year writing quick 250-word tales each week. I’d already been posting for 3 solid years when Mary Decker appeared on the blog. She had her first win within 18 weeks, on July 2 2015, and her quirky, smart voice captured many a judge from then on. Unfortunately, I lost years 4-7 to a change in website host so I don’t have the first five winning tales she gave us, but I’ve gathered the rest below. For the record, she won my challenge a whopping THIRTY-TWO TIMES, and deservedly so. This is a very long post, so feel free to take your time. They are arranged by year, and the dates and prompts are ahead of each tale. I hope you enjoy her writing as much as we did. Date: January 2, 2020Prompt: “Do I look like I’m twelve?” Mistaken Identity I did my best to keep to the shadows. Being seen these days was rarely a good thing. People were roving in gangs if they were roving at all. More and more people were being divided into the shamblers and those who would be shambling soon enough. I opened my senses as I tried to get a feel for the over sized mall. Even before the dead stopped dying, this place had been abandoned. It was built in the ‘70s to serve the shopping needs of folks on the west side of town. Time, competition and a series of murders kind of took the charm out of the place. That made it the perfect place to set up camp, mainly because there was nothing left to scavenge here. I staked my claim to one of the storerooms on the second floor.and was on my way out when I met Oscar, or more the point, I met his Louisville Slugger. The introduction ended in a lot of sparks and pain, and then blackness. When I came to, I was sprawled out on the floor, with Oscar standing watch. I guess he realized things weren’t quite what they seemed. “Hello?” I asked experimentally. “Hey, sorry— thought you were a shambler.” I blinked. “Do I look like…” “I’m twelve?” he half asked, half stated. “Everyone looks like they’re big, shambling and dangerous.” He had a point. 243 words (not including title) ~~~~~~~~~~~~Date: January 9, 2020Prompt: “He had a point.” Nice doggy “Is that all you’re going to say?” The man’s tone was sharp, nasal and almost as annoying as he was. “What else do you want me to say?” “I want to know you’re going to stand up for me: Most of the time I would, but since I didn’t know which way he was going to jump these days, I couldn’t guarantee how I’d react. “If you say something I could get behind, I’m there— but I’m not going to follow you blind. You know where I stand and you know which side of my bread is buttered, the rest is up to you.” “So, you’re going to dictate the terms of our friendship?” I rolled my eyes. “The terms of our friendship are the same as they always been – be honest, be true, don’t take BS.” “I’m not asking you to violate that.” “Yeah, but you aren’t telling me which part is going to apply.” “Be honest, be true…” “No B.S.?” He smiled, taking a sword from its wall hanging. He inspected it for a moment and then lunged at me, backing me up to the wall, the tip of his blade against my breast bone. I smiled. He had a point, and as long as it was one thrust away from my heart, he had my support… at least until I could draw my Sig-Sauer. 228 words, not including title ~~~~~~~~~~~~Date: January 30, 2020Prompt: “I didn’t sign up for this.” Destination Unknown. Mac spat on the ground as he swore. Looking at the wreckage I could see why— the ship had been scythed in half. Acid had eaten through the cowling and at least half the electronics. “What the hell did Dancer do to this thing?” “She landed on 0213-78,” I answered as I pulled out the bucket and mopped up after Mac. I’d learned a long time ago that his spit tended to leave stains on the deck plating, and it was easier to clean up before it had a chance to set. “What was it?” “Class 2 planet, low atmo – possibly good for raw materials. He didn’t want to be used.” “It didn’t want?” “Yeah, sentient planet – said it didn’t want to be cut up for parts then did a number on the ship. Kept Dancer safe, out of respect and because he didn’t want to start a war.” “He? Goddamned planet ‘an y’re calling it ‘He’” “That was what the planet said,” I pointed out. I tend not to argue with large inanimate objects— Call it superstition – don’t provoke the place where you’re landing, especially when they can split a fuselage in half without blinking. “Shit,” he growled spitting on the floor again, his smile daring me to say anything. “I didn’t sign up for this.” I didn’t have the heart to tell him he had— or maybe it was just common sense finally kicking in. I mopped up and made myself scarce. It was safer that way. 250 words (not including title) ~~~~~~~~~~~~Date: April 2, 2020Prompt: “Things are going south.” Before Its Prime “South-paw, this is Papa Three, do you copy?” There was a long pause, and I was about to repeat when South-paw answered in his slow drawl. “Hey Papa Three, how are things?” Several answers came to mind, ‘Hell in a handbasket’ would have been my first choice if they’d been getting better. As it was, hell was a…
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