Flash Fiction Writing Challenge - hosted by the Inn Between

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Flash Fiction Writing Challenge - hosted by the Inn Between

Postby Boo Kay Bucket » Feb 09, 2018 7:18 am

Welcome to the Inn Between! No reservations are needed, but I will expect payment in advance. -clink!- Thank you. While you enjoy your stay in my inn and in Ditto Town, please feel free to take part in the event that I have been coer - *ahem* - requested to host, during Ditto Town's reconstruction. May I introduce you to Ditto Town's first Flash Fiction Challenge!

Flash Fiction Challenges are designed to create very short, self-contained stories on a given theme or prompt, within a certain set of parameters. Once stories have been submitted, writers can provide each other with feedback.

This event is intended to be rather short, so fair warning, writers and commentators! This thread will close on March 5th, 2018 - and I will want my inn back. Please to be sure to be checked out by this date - and remember to keep your rooms clean! It is very difficult to keep things spic and span with no hands.

General Rules:
1. Keep in mind that this thread is specifically for authors to post finished pieces and receive feedback. It is not for roleplays.
2. For the same reasons, please refrain from discussing tangent topics or plotting in this thread.

Flash Fiction Rules:
1. Keep all posts rated “G” or “PG” for the sake of our younger members.
2. Your story must be longer than 10 words and shorter than 1000 words. All stories must be on the prompt given, and all stories must be given a title to differentiate from stories written by other authors.
3. Members may only post one story per prompt.
4. All characters must be characters you have invented yourself, not taken from other authors. This means fan fiction is not allowed. You can use your characters from other Ditto Town stories, or ones made up just for this thread.
5. Remember again to post the title of your story at the top.

Feedback Rules:
1. Always include the title of the story you are commenting on.
2. Remember to THINK—are your comments true, helpful, inspiring, necessary, and kind?
3. Make your posts substantial. For example, if you want to say “Good job!” or “I really liked your story!” add some details (“I really liked your story because it highlighted the strong friendship between Cheddar the Chipmunk and his Talking Thimble without being overbearing and cheesy”).
4. Please keep in mind that all writers are at a different place in their writing journey. Thus, we ask that you focus on giving feedback, rather than editing pointers.

Without further ado, your prompt is as follows:

You are just finishing up a long day's work and getting ready to head home. As you put away the last of your things, you realize someone is standing behind you. You turn to see a young man.
"I'm terribly sorry to disturb you," he says, "but I believe I am your grandson."


Feel free to revise this prompt to fit your individual storytelling style by changing the tense or changing any pronouns necessary to fit your characters.

Happy Writing! And tips are greatly appreciated!

Boo Kay Bucket
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Re: Flash Fiction Writing Challenge - hosted by the Inn Between

Postby narnianerd » Feb 19, 2018 1:15 am

'69 HOTROD


I was just finishing up a long day's work and was getting ready to head home. Today was the day I was going to do it, I just finished writing my note, folded it neatly and placed it on my workbench. I began to put away the last of my tools when realized that someone was standing behind me. I turned to see a young man.


"I'm terribly sorry to disturb you," he said, "but I believe I am your great, great grandson."


It took a minute for my brain to process all the information that my senses were feeding to it. Nothing about what I was seeing and hearing had any logical explanation. The young man standing in my shop seemed to be in his late teens, his hair was shoulder length, blonde and curly at the end, his complexion was fair and his pale skin tone matched my own. The two of us could definitely pass as brothers if we wanted to do so. Then again, he was a random stranger intruding into my already locked, supposedly secure garage. My instincts kicked in and soon enough I had the young man backed against the hardwood door, my forearm shoved deep into his throat, cutting off his breath, it didn't take long for his panic to set in.


“Woah dude, chill aight? I'm just a tourist brah! You can check my bags, all I’ve got with me is a camera and a couple pairs of socks! Jee’ze-Louise man, what's got you so wound up?”


I grunted in response before quickly performing a thorough pat-down, my findings confirmed his claims. His taste in socks was a bit tacky, but otherwise his belongings were harmless and so I backed off. “What are you doing here?”


The kid huffed, smoothed out his jacket and shoved his hands deep into the front pockets of his faded blue jeans, “I told you pops, I'm tourist.”


“Doesn't explain why you are in my room, or why you seem to be under the impression that I'm your grandfather.”


The dudebrah laughed, “I’m a time traveler from the year two thousand, one hundred and sixty eight, getting past a locked door is a piece of cake, now the vastness of the space time continuum, that’s a whole other thing entirely.”


“Prove it then,” I challenged him, fists closed tightly.


“You got anything to drink?”


“What?”


“Time travel makes a man thirsty, doncha know?”


“That doesn’t prove anything, but you know what, screw it, there’s some root beer in the fridge I think. Go ahead and grab me one too, what’s your name anyways?”


“Jason, Jason Birmingham, my friends call me JB for short.” Replied JB, tossing me a can.


“Well I’m pretty sure you ain’t here to kill me, take a seat man. So, say you were my great, great grandson or whatever, why are you here?”


Jason plopped down hard onto my bench seat, “Whattya mean pops?”


“Don’t call me that. What I mean is, if I had access to a time travel machine and could go anywhere, see anything… I don’t reckon I’d go see my great, great grandpap. I’m not even sure if I remember his name, to be completely honest.”


“You know, I’m not sure. All I know is that I’ve always come back here, on this date to see you. It’s been recorded history ever since, so here I am.”


I leaned against the wall, the chill cinder block cooling my back. “So, you literally have no idea?


“Nope.


“So, what’s the future like kid?” I decided to play along. At the very least, this goofball made for a pretty nice distraction, providing some much needed entertainment on such a grim day.


“Eh, you know what? It ain’t all that it’s hopped up to be. You know how after every great war, some genius decides that it’ll be the one to end all wars? Well that never happens. There’s a war on again, interplanetary this time.”

“Anyone you know serving?”


“My dad’s a fighter pilot, a CW3 in the the 11th Armored Cav, based on Ceres. Oh, and my older brother is in the 82nd, just like you. They jump from space now, crazy huh?”


I grimaced, imagining the back and knee injuries that jumping from orbit must cause, “sounds like the Birmingham family to me kid, maybe you ain’t crazy after all.”


“I wouldn’t go that far, I am your part of your family, after all.”


“Fair point.”


“By the way, you get that ‘69 fixed up yet?”


“What, the AMX? Its a work in progress at moment. And by in progress I mean, I don’t have the money or time to do anything too it. Story of my life, actually.”


“You get to it eventually, it’s in a museum now, you did a great job pops.”


I thought back to the letter I wrote earlier and nearly choked on my soda. “No way, what color did I end up deciding on?


“You went with the dark cherry and flat grey racing stripes, it’s beautiful, honestly. It’s a work of art.”


I crunched my can, “yah know what kid?”


“What?”


“That car doesn’t belong in a museum, promise me this, when you make it back to whenever you are from, break that girl out. Take her for a spin, burn some rubber, aight?”


“Pops, ICE vehicles have been banned from use for nearly four decades.”


“Are you a man, or a mouse?”


“What?”


“It’s something my Gram used to tell me.”


“Tell you what pops, I’ll do my best.”


“Fair enough.” I replied, turning to toss my now dried up soda can in the trash. When I turned back around, the young man was gone, vanished into the upcoming night. I shrugged, figuring that the whole conversation had been a trick of the mind, a last gasp at keeping the lights on before I shut the whole thing down. But then, when I went to retrieve my last letter, it was gone, replaced by a picture.



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