(650 words)
Contrary to movie funerals, it was not raining. In fact, it was a bright sunny day with sparse clouds.
But can a churchyard ever be sunny? With mourners decked out in black and the only smiles around sad ones, a stormcloud seemed to hang over the churchyard itself.
(600 words, approx)
“Looked.”
“What?”
Yuto peered at the sign hung inside the window. “It is written ‘looked’.”
Cynthia shook her head. “It says ‘locked’, not ‘looked’. Besides, we don’t need a sign to know that, do we?” She went back to picking the lock. He was a foreign exchange student, here till next September, but still getting used to the English language.
Yuto frowned. “I think this, what we do, is wrong.”
‘Say the word and there is light, say the word and dead bones rise…’
Nick turned it off. What a load of crap. This was the exclusive, yet-unreleased music Ralph was going on about?
He took his earphones out. Why was he listening to it again? He’d already listened to it once, been appalled by it, and was now replaying it. Gabe, Mike, Ralph- they’d all be proud of him if they knew what he was listening to, but Nick didn’t want them to be proud. All he wanted… he let go of that thought. He’d been over it multiple times. It was clear they weren’t going to listen to him.
Nevertheless, he walked over to where Big G was tinkering with his toolbox. Not to try and tell him- not now, anyway- but to get something to do. He was bored, and he couldn’t listen to the crappy music on Ralph’s Walkman anymore.
Mel has met a person on the internet who claims to be from the planet Hagfar orbiting Centaurus Lambda in the Carina-Sagittarius arm of the Milky Way galaxy. She’s been chatting with him for a while, and he is tired of trying to convince her of his alien-ness. Finally, she decides to stop bothering about it, because even if he’s trying to prank her, he’s a nice person to talk to, as she’s learnt in the last twenty minutes.
Hello, people. My exams are over and I’m back. Feel free to scream with joy and shed tears of happiness. *Senses you staring at the screen incredulously* I’ll come back when you’ve composed yourself.
Meanwhile, you can read the previous parts if you haven’t yet, or if you have, move on to this one. Continue reading
Click here to read the previous parts.
I was stunned into immobility for a few moments, my sweaty hands clutching the papers, my eyes fixed on the shelf before me. My whole face pulsing with my racing heart, I turned around to find a balding man in a blue shirt and sepia pants frowning at me. Either the lab assistant or the peon.
I gulped. “Yes- yes sir?”
“I said what are you doing here so early in the morning without a teacher?”
Click here to read the previous parts.
Al and I were seated on either side of my bed in the cheap hotel room we’d rented about an hour or two ago, contemplating the murder of the Creator. Between us was a notebook with notes detailing a classic break-in murder, all crossed out.
Señors and señoritas, the long hiatus is finally over. I present to you *drum roll* part 8.
If you’re not enthralled, that means you’ve missed out on stuff. Catch up here on the previous parts.
Hundred-worders were never my thing until I joined WordPress. Then, I wrote a couple of them. Now, with two participations in Carrot Ranch’s Flash Fiction Challenge, (including this one), my formerly practically non-existent mini-fiction skills are getting some exercise. And the added benefit is that I’m blogging today although I have a Maths exam tomorrow. So, here we go:
Hola, amigos. Make merry, rejoice, and distribute pamphlets. Part 7 is finally here.
Click here to read the previous parts.
