Karoline had been scared when it happened with Dike. He made a mess all over her skirt. Now, she and her Mother listened to Céline Dion in the vehicle in silence.

Karo's belly churned and she asked her Mother to stop the vehicle. Her Mother did and Karo's breakfast was thrown somewhere safer than the car seat.

She wiped her mouth and drank some water as her Mother drove them to the hospital to get rid of her and Dike's first.

kazuna:


Horror is ma forte and yours too.

Quick Maddening burst of the grotequesly sublime. i wish i can pack stuff in like u in ma write ups....any tips

Thanks for reading and commenting. Study the rules of flash fiction. Always helps.

Her genre was Romance. She'd put together the most romantic characters in history and brought them to life for years.

Irene's fans loved her too much to complain, but something wasn't just ... romantic anymore.

The characters made love less and died without their happy ending.

But that never stopped Irene. She continued writing and hiding the fresh and old welts from her loving Husband on her then perfect skin.

Nancy Ejiofor was pumped to have an interview with the oldest member of the Rehab centre, Ikeja, for her addiction to "The feel good" drug for decades.

Pumped as she was, she still managed to look good. The Woman's skin was brown as coffee. She smelled nice and her smile was warm.

"So, what's the feel good drug? You never revealed that to anyone," Nancy spoke. The Woman finally revealed what the unknown drug was.

"Loneliness!" She said and died, her skin turning pale and smile leaving her face. Then, the interview ended.

It was unusual to see a girl with a pretty face with a gun. She had the biggest gun in her bag. Some claimed it was bigger than what the security Men of the Campus owned.

She staggered towards the School gate, as the Men ogled at her. She let out no smile but reached for her weapon.

The gun made the Men shiver and speak in new tongues. The rushing sound happened and blood stained their clothes. Kiki laid down dead with a mashed skull.

After the war, he held her in his arms and kissed her with his sloppy lips. She'd smiled and said not a word.

He held her in his arms as his heart raced back to normal.

He asked her about their vigorous love making session and she smiled, never letting out a word from her mouth. He kissed her again and exited the bedroom.

She covered her skin and wept a little. She thought her Husband knew her well, but he hadn't noticed she was now blind.

olanshile2016:


your stories are always intriguing, nice one
op means you, original poster

Thanks for reading and commenting.

kay9:
Minor typo corrected:



Good one.

Thanks for correcting my typo. Thanks for reading too.

Whiteee:
thumbs up @op

Thanks. But what does "Op" mean?

The way motorists, pedestrians and the news crew invaded Jumoke's home made her only wish this hadn't happen.

Weeks ago, she was the fresh-out victim in the City's notorious kidnapping. But now, she lived indoors all day, praying for no one to find her.

Not her family, friends or even Fiancé, Bello.

She couldn't be happy, they said. But she was, carrying Yusuf's baby, the one in the violent crew, who had rescued them both.

Electgineer99:
Always marveled at your literary prowess!

Thanks for reading and commenting. Come again.

Drefan2:
Op, I don't usually comment on literary works cos I'm not much of a critic myself but from the very few works of yours I've read, I especially found the one about a boy engaging his mother in a coversation in a phone emotion-shattering and more interesting, including the one you scripted for the afritalks contest... I make bold to say you're talented and if you fully dedicate your undivided time and zeal to nurture this talent just the way a farmer nurtures a young lily (it's evident you are already on with it), you'll blossom.

One thing: I noticed your works are relatively short, although they still manage to paint the picture of what you want the audience to capture and in essence, are promising to some extent... Lemme stop here.

Kudos to you and all the writers in the house.

Nice job. Keep them coming.

Thank you so much. I appreciate this.

Don't cry, they said and he made other people cry. Don't be shy, they warned and he grew up to be a fearful monster.

Don't love too easily, they chanted and he became an emotionless machine.

Don't pet a Child or an animal, they instructed and he killed his own Child with his favourite weapon and feasted on a baby Rabbit.

The "Don'ts" never ended and Okon never stopped at ruining everyone and anyone.

The room reeked of blood and soon, there might be more.

He set his Camera on the table and powered his laptop. He logged in and punched the keys, smiling at his soon-to-be greatest headline.

"Pa-Pa!" The still voice echoed once more and Ade looked at the body again. It was now dead.

Hours later, Ade's story was the greatest story of the Country, and he surrendered himself to the Police, for watching his Son die after an attack. He wanted to make his biggest Story, and he did.

Gabrendo:
Keep It Comin. I like this genre.

Thanks for reading. Come again.

drippingink3:
I'm going to start writing because of you. So start I can starve you with flash fiction.

(~_~)

Please do. Let's get into a duel.

Laolu09:
what then is the JET club about?

About Science. Not basically about dead things.

Illuminatus:
You have an interesting story idea. The first line told me that much. But you need to polish this. It seems jumbled and too consize. Rephrase some sentences and add a couple more and you'll have a better story.

I wish I could write more. But a concise story is what I wanted to make. A flash fiction piece.
Thanks for reading!

Abigail watched Children sing and giggle out in the snow. It was the 23rd of December in America and she wasn't feeling Christmasy at all.

Her son, Dike, now Rick was held down in Rehab, for his alcohol and meth addiction.
Her daughter, Amara, now Becky had eloped in India with her woman lover.

Abigail sipped from her favourite chipped mug, when she saw a butterfly on her window pane and she noticed her bald head again. She was dying.

He watched her UnCloth as he grew excited for his first kiss. Her expensive clothing was united with the floor. Her flowing hair was held up, just above her head.

She'd swayed her hips to no music. She'd giggled like a Child. She moved closer to him and their lips sealed as one.

What wasn't missing now was her wedding ring and the age spots on her face.

kay9:
Is there more coming?

The end!!!
Thanks for reading. Come again.

I was never a Science person. How people loved the smell of chemical and repulsive sight of dead things was always a no-no for me.

But when I noticed Victor in the JET club, I shocked everyone by signing up too.

Victor smiled at me in our first practical class. I began loving odd things. Victor's smile died when he found me playing with a dead spider.

"Ew! That's not what JET club is about." He said, and I signed out of the club in shame.

Nairlanders I need your help. View and review my story in the Africontest now; http://www.afritalks.com/threads/the-verdict-africontest.1324/#post-4631.
Only good reviews tho. God Bless.

It was dawn, the Sun settling throughout the verdant Village of Mumzi. Mumzi, blessed with abundant forest land, cattle and rich foods. Let's also not forget the unimpeachable verdict given to every known criminal and offender.

Today, the Sun was awake and then came Sky's juice. It was raining slightly, making Children worry if they should play indoors or outdoors.

For more, visit... http://www.afritalks.com/threads/the-verdict-africontest.1324/#post-4631

Whoosh! Whoosh! The wind was whoosing through my face as I and my friends were ready to have a lifetime of adventure in the popular Oldville Hotel and Resorts, Ibadan.

My other friends, too scared and loony enough, had told me the myths of the Oldville Hotel and Resorts, especially Room 101c. It was funny for a few days, but it became annoying, when they wouldn't stop whining and moaning about it.

I, Tunde, my fiancé and our two other friends, including my maid of honour and the best man bellowed and talked endless in the Vehicle, as Tunde drove soberly.

Then, the wind began whooshing, that was the part Linda didn't like. She began reflecting her thoughts on what our "too scared" friends had said, but I simply shrugged it off and listened to some Jazz songs, to soothe and heal the consternation mood.

Tunde sighted the sign, welcoming us to The Oldville Hotel and Resorts, but the sign was freaky, as skeletons were beating a drum and piping a flute. The sign was old and battered too.

We arrived the vintage hotel, as a lot of things were not in shape, or even in place. The entrance door had a sighing noise, just like the ever whoosing wind. We paid for our 3-day stay, and we were handed the rusted key to our room.

Tope laughed when he noticed the sign on the door, emblazoned Room 101c. It was the myth room and we were going to dwell in it for 3 whole days and nights.

I laughed it off, while Linda was shaking now. The janitor, a man with breasts, visible through his shirt walked past us, but when Tope ran after him, he was gone. Like whoosh!

We opened the door of Room 101c, my heart beating tediously, Linda reciting her rosary, Tope and Tunde trying to find the light switch.

"There isn't a light switch in this room, Yemi." Tunde called out to me. My heart literally stopped beating, when Linda's stopped too.

We all suddenly stopped talking, or even breathing. Our worlds stopped and another began, one filled with horror, danger, and maybe even death.

The janitor with the saggy breasts emerged through the wall, but this time, he wasn't alone. The musical skeletons were with him.

Done.
Anyone kind and sweet is free to vote and view my story for the #AfriContest. Link below;
http://www.afritalks.com/ams/writing-contest-the-verdict-africontest.8/

Thanks for sharing this for me.

Imagine a place without emotions, primal feelings, raw and filled with genuine thoughts and actions.

Imagine the stillness, calmness and serenity if no one, absolutely no one could see the beyond.

Imagine if Children were only made to live, just because of their weight, size or colour. They would be "let down" or "released", which was only a synonym for killed or destroyed.

Imagine a place without colour, light, but only the dark.

Imagine a place where actions, thoughts, reactions, habits, addictions and everything else is absent.

Imagine a place without love, hate, jealousy, envy, happiness and sadness, but sameness is the only emotion.

Imagine a place where only a person, a person greater than others could see the light, feel nature and listen to sounds, not echo of sounds, but real and true sound of music.

He would keep every memory and never let them go, just because if anyone else were to choose, they would choose wrong. Over and over again.

It wasn't too long ago I began writing my own Flash Fiction piece. It seemed fantastic and mind boggling how Someone would take a whole stack of idea regarding a Story, and summarize it into a 100 words, or even less. What a drabble!

If you aren't oriented about the pros and cons of Flash Fiction, that's why this entire post was made.

But first, let's define the true meaning of Flash Fiction, shall we?

Wikipedia defines it as, “a style of fictional literature of extreme brevity". That means, it's typically under a 1,000 words, but more than 500 words.

Note that, Flash Fiction should do all the regular things a Short Story does.

Rules on writing a good/great/excellent Flash Fiction piece:

#1. Be clever with Flash Fiction. Tell it all in just a sentence.

#2. Don't start your story at the beginning. Just go with the flow, but with small words.

#3. Let your Flash Fiction run with one mind, idea and emotion. Don't make it too colourful, hence the confusion.

#4. Even with the little time given with Flash Fiction, make it clear, like a shiny transparent glass.

#5. Make your Flash Fiction piece personal.

#6. Make your readers enthralled and riveted with your Flash Fiction from the first sentence.

#7. Only keep the essentials with Flash Fiction.

#8. Find your voice, sight and smell with your Flash Fiction piece. Be creative.

nijabazaar:
wicked flash fiction as always.

You know it!

Blood mixed with confetti was everywhere in the hall. The Cake was still uncut and the music had been interrupted for hours.

The Police joined the family and friends of the dying Bride, Bisi, who had stabbed herself on her own special day.

The wounds created thick blood on Bisi's tiny white dress. She still managed to cling to the bloody knife with her own bloody hands.

Bisi's sister, Ronke had plunged the knife into Bisi first, their Mother second. While, the rest of the gruesome event unknown to the Police.