December Flash Swag Challenge

Want to get your hands on some RA swag? And maybe stretch your writing muscles along the way? Here’s your chance.

Write your best piece of flash fiction (we categorize flash fiction as being under 800 words) and post it as a reply here.

The entry that our editors find to be the most impressive bite-size morsel of fiction will win its author some RA swagand have the opportunity of being published by Rhetoric Askew.

rhetoric_askew_notebook-r6dc2e8a3063e410489b668de7403361c_ambg4_8byvr_512
RA notebook http://www.zazzle.com/rhetoric_askew 

****Remember the theme for the Quarterly is Love is in the Air.****

 

science-fiction-1758381_640

6 Comments

  1. The crowds faces grew hopeful. Some had tears of joy as they stared up at the sky. Although they couldn’t be sure of it, hopefully, maybe the green-golden being who appeared suddenly in the sky would destroy the Zainerc – vicious, sadistic extraterrestrials who now ruled the Earth and forced them into harsh enslav e ment.
    ” I’m here for you, he said.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. The crowd – disillusioned, heartbroken citizens of Earth had their faces grow hopeful. Some had tears of joy as they stared up at the sky. Although they couldn’t be sure of it, hopefully, maybe the green-golden being that appeared suddenly in the sky would destroy the Zainerc – vicious, sadistic extraterrestrials that now ruled the Earth and forced them into harsh enslavement.
    ” I’m here for you,” he said.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. A shiver raced through Mira as she sat alone on the park bench. She shivred not from the darkness of the night nor the cold, though it was almost midnight in late December and there was a dreadful chill in the air, but what she felt had naught to do with lateness of the hour nor the temperature. It was excitement mixed with just a little trepidation. For today was the day. The date that was etched into her very being. The date his heart had whispered to hers the last time they’d been together.

    While keeping an eye on the three trees nearest the southernmost wall that ran around the park, she let her mind drift. She’d been so alone before him. An orphan floating through life. Participating yet never belonging. She’d always felt trapped in a time and an existence that she’d believed with all her heart were not her own. And then the dreams had started. It always began in exactly the same way, never a deviation. She’d fall to sleep and the music would start. Sweet strains of a melody she now knew deep within her soul. A song that somehow she knew no other than her had ever heard. Their song was how she thought of it, played by an unseen orchestra. Haunting. Beautiful. As the notes rose and fell around her, the very air would vibrate with energy and a golden shimmer would build as though the very fabric of time and space had been ripped open to spill itself out before her. It blurred reality and narrowed her vision, forcing her attention to the space between the triangle of massive pines. It was at the point when the music reached its most its most tender notes, that the doorway would appear. Then golden pathway would slide out, and he would begin his decent to her.

    She’d thought him strange looking at first. So very different than anyone she’d known. But she’d soon come to see beyond the outward appearance to the beauty that was his soul. Over time that is what he’d become, her soulmate. A being created just for her as she had been for him. She’d always thought she’d known what love was. She hadn’t even been close.

    They’d come together in that odd space that felt as though they were trapped between time, and they’d talk for what seemed like hours, sometimes with words, sometimes without. She’d asked him his name repeatedly, but each he’d tilt his head as though confused, then with a soft smile, he’d place her hand on his heart and look at her expectantly. She hadn’t understood what he was doing. It had taken her until their last encounter to realize that love had no name. Love was felt deep within and that who they were had no name. His joy had radiated from him when she’d told him of her understanding. The music and the light had swelled to unimaginable heights. It was then that he’d drawn her close and spoken the words she’d waited so long to hear. The next time he came would be the end of the debilitating sorrow she’d endured each time he left. For on his return, he would take her to be his forever.

    Soft strains of the oh so familiar melody pulled her from her thoughts and a soft sigh slipped from her. She stood, tears of happiness running unheeded down her cheeks as she awaited his appearance. At last her wait was over.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. Flies catching spiders.
    By Rob Saice.
    I see her across the room, despite all the smoke in the club. Her eyes, like a lighthouse, draw me to her like a ship lost in a severe storm. Somehow from this distance I can tell they are green, like creamy jade. Calling out to me.
    I begin to feel as though my will is not my own. Her eyes. Those eyes. Like a meat hook in my heart, she pulls gently on the chain, drawing me to her. Like a robot programed to, I approach her. Automatically.
    She is beautiful beyond realistic description. As if she is pulled from all of my teen-age fantasy’s, and materialized in the club only moments before I arrive. The repetitious bass beats like the excited heart of a frantic lover in the background, like some early 90’s techno artist. Her movements are alluring and dangerous at the same time, like a python stalking an unaware deer. Predatory, in intent.
    Her sensuous lips do not move, yet I clearly hear her speak to me. Directly into my mind. As if I am a scared animal, that needs soothing before the slaughter or the meat will go bad. The flashing strobes and twirling lights distract me for a moment, I must remain focused. Her voice feels like warm sunshine upon my face at noon. The noise of the over modulated dance music and roar of the crowd fade away into a soundless void as she speaks. Even time seems to stop at her whim. It is as if we are alone on an asteroid sailing through space, isolated.
    “Do you not wish to dance with me? Do you not wish to feel the warmth of my embrace? Am I not what you desire? You are right, I was made for you. Only you, my love. Come with me, you are my only desire. My…love”
    Enraptured, I give into my desires and follow her to the couch. Her dark red lips match her dark red hair, like an old blood stain on an alabaster counter top. Her pale complexion has a strange luminescent quality to it. As if she has her own private spotlight. She has my body; my mind still resists her intrusion.
    She reaches out to me, wanting me to take her hand. The first thing I feel is her black cold finger nails scraping the palm of my hand as I reach out to embrace hers. I flinch as my palm is cut and begins to bleed slightly. I try to pull my hand back, but she has already pulled me to the couch. Her cold nails feel like iron daggers, digging deeply into my hand. Her lips kiss my hand tenderly at first, then she starts lapping up the blood. Her eyes have locked onto my soul. I can’t look away or exercise my own desire to run away.
    I reach into my trench coat and grasp the handle of “Light’s Hammer”. I shield my intent from her mental probes, I imagine reaching for cigarettes to hide my motives. Like building a brick wall between us, so do I build one in my mind. Waiting for my moment patiently.
    Her fangs bite deep into my wrist, my artificial wrist. She drinks deeply into the neurotoxin infused proto-flesh, paralyzing her for a split second. All the time I need.
    I pull my weapon from its blessed holster and expand the handle to its full length, the micro-servos locking into place, a thin braid of my beloved’s blonde hair hangs from the handle, a cross dangling at the end. A quick smash to the top of her skull with my war hammer incapacitates the vampire long enough for my “Shanghai” crew to bag it up for processing. A quick silver infused zip-tie around the hands and feet, and then into a garlic soaked body bag. I still feel sorry them, from time to time. It’s not their fault after all. Only one vampire really ever had a choice. Ven Thull, and we ain’t heard from him in decades. Most assume he is dead. Fools, that already happened 6,000 years ago. It will take tougher guys to do it a second time.
    Times are not like they used to be. Vampires are becoming rarer each season. Hunting permits cost 400% of what they were last season, with less available tags to purchase each as well. It’s becoming harder to make a living hunting vampires. At least the pharmaceutical company’s still pay great bounty’s. I might need to start supplementing my income hunting Werewolves off season. I wonder how much that costs to start up?

    The end.

    Like

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s