google-analytics-for-wordpress domain was triggered too early. This is usually an indicator for some code in the plugin or theme running too early. Translations should be loaded at the init action or later. Please see Debugging in WordPress for more information. (This message was added in version 6.7.0.) in /home/flashfictionfan/public_html/wp-includes/functions.php on line 6121Fast Fiction On-the-Go
A collection of flash fiction horror and dark fantasy stories.
“Bats with sonar, sharks sensing electric fields, bees seeing ultraviolet, snakes seeing infrared…” Doctor Julia Fraser stopped, looked up from the instrumentation panel she was configuring and tilted her head to the side, “Have you ever seen a cat freeze and look intently at an empty part of a room?[…]
Read moreI was young–maybe only five or six years old–the first time I saw it. Or felt it. While my father snored in the next room, the Being revealed itself to me deep in the wilderness of my dreams. Shrouded in darkness and celestial light, it bent down to look at[…]
Read more“Rerun those numbers, I don’t want to get caught out here. I’m late for dinner with the wife, but tomorrow we’ll call the lawyers and pull the trigger. This takeover will be a steal and we’re gaining access to such a large addressable market I, I dunno, it’d be like[…]
Read more“Sophia Morrow, what did you see when you looked at yourself?” It was a simple enough question but she froze, unable to answer. She felt trapped, pinned down by the unyielding grey eternity. Where were they? How had she gotten here? “I–I, uhm, I saw red hair on porcelain skin,[…]
Read moreFrozen, he watched the little bird die. Its fragile chest rose and fell. Wild eyes staring out towards oblivion as its fluttering heart mechanically pumped its blood into the earth. He was surrounded by withering sunflowers–his family’s old farm–and their brilliant explosions of yellow contrasted against the dark land beneath[…]
Read more“Who’s that there?” the gruff question was a bit prying but mostly innocuous. “N-nothing! No one!” she mumbled and closed the locket before tucking it back under her torn, blue scrubs, “No one, ok, none of your business. He is mine!” The two of them were lying on cardboard sheets[…]
Read moreIn the late summer, before the storms began to roll in, Mary Antoinette Athelard drowned herself, or so the police said and the newspapers reported. And, as far as the rest of the world is concerned, that is what happened. In the small hours of the morning when the world[…]
Read moreIn the summer of 1938, I died horrifically. What is more disconcerting than this fact was that my consciousness remained behind in a disembodied form. As a rigid scientist and staunch atheist, the matter of me becoming a ghost rather irked me. I had originally been visiting my great-grandmother on[…]
Read moreHe had been following her for three months as her trail cut across the country. She had started by the coast, moved inland, hit the other coast, and then veered North in what began as a zigzagged-dawdle that steadily picked up pace, intent and ferocity. He had started about a[…]
Read moreIn all the dusty annals, sidenotes and forgotten addendums of history, there are few stories stranger than that of ‘Miss Daisy of Blackpool Bay‘. I now reside far inland and, after I have repeated this tale to you, I suspect that you will too. But, I digress. Apologies. The poppy[…]
Read moreIf you look at me now you will struggle to realize that I was once the esteemed Curator of the Old Museum in Blackpool Bay. I was dignified, respected and well-funded amongst my peers. My current circumstances in this institution seem as pitiful as my constitution but I feel I[…]
Read moreCome up from the cold docks, down Blackpool Bay’s Main Street and by the old, creepy Athelard mansion with its weathered gargoyles silently screaming out to all that pass on the street. Keep going by the Old Museum and beyond the Gypsy Market with its smoky shops and shady characters.[…]
Read moreHe woke up in his bed screaming, covered in cold-sweat and his heart pounding in his chest. He sat up straight, gasping for breath as if he had been drowning or swallowed. What a strange thought, he thought to himself, swallowed? And just then a single isolated and arbitrary memory[…]
Read moreThe light was as fragile as a feather as it filtered through the quiet, somber oaks that lined the Old Cemetery in Blackpool Bay. The quiet in that place seemed removed from the occasional car the drove passed and the odd voice or radio that wafted in from a million[…]
Read moreThe site was not far from the village. Strangely close, actually, if you knew what you were looking for and avoided the birds as he did. He had become quite good at this. He had stumbled upon the find while out hunting one night and thereafter been coming back here[…]
Read more“Michael, can I have my pen back?” the lady politely asked, her hand outstretched. Her pointed, polished nails blood-red against her pale skin. The room paused. The air-con was cool in here and, if you really listened, you could hear it breathing through the hidden ceiling fans like some ethereal[…]
Read more“You broke another one?” Jules exclaimed to her husband who was carrying a broken form from his bedroom, “Must you be so rough with them? They aren’t free, you know?” Miles shrugged as he walked passed, blew her a kiss and dumped the broken sexbot by their disposal unit. The[…]
Read moreDespite being late Summer, the air of Blackpool Bay retained a surprising chill to it. It was likely that the ocean’s nearby current cooled the air but none of the dour, weathered locals seemed to notice. By the looks of them, he doubted that any of them cared. He had[…]
Read more