Thursday, March 7, 2013

Week 6 fanficflashfic

Our Week 5 winner, @spanglemaker9, has picked a fantastic prompt to get you writing this week.

Here it is:

Remember to check the rules. 

Have your 100 - 200 words submitted by 11:59pm Thursday, EST.

We want anything and everything: poetry, prose, fanfic, OF. 


Leave your entry as a comment - include your word count, and your twitter handle if you have one.

FYI - entries that exceed (or are under) the word limits will not be considered by the judge.


  1. This comment has been removed by the author.

  2. Let's try this again!

    Word Count: 200

    It was overcast the day he departed for the war. The draft had not been kind to them and he one of the first groups called up to serve. The whistle on the train blew, signaling the final boarding call.

    He held her in his arms and spoke, “Promise me you’ll wait for me and I’ll promise to return to you.”

    “Always. I’ll wait for you forever,” she spoke, raw emotion covering each word.

    “I love you.”

    “And I love you.”

    “Stay safe, soldier.”

    “Always, doll.”

    He held her tightly around the waist and dipped her as he placed a searing kiss on her painted red lips.

    Once he let go, he ran for the train. He held on to the handle and tipped his hat to her. She blew him a kiss which he caught and tucked in his pocket for safe keeping. She giggled through her tears.

    Days turned into months and months into years before she received word that he’d been killed in action.

    She stood by his casket with tears pouring down her face.

    “I waited and I’ll wait again until I can see you in heaven.”

    She walked away with his flag and their son.

  3. @sandyquill

    Word count 199

    “I’m leaving,” he told her, posture erect.

    She stopped next to the gate that led down to the train. “Today?” With an embarrassed look that encompassed his uniform, she jerked her head. “Of course. Well, you know I wish you only the best.” The awkwardness of their entire... acquaintance... suffused her voice, making her words quiet, stilted. She tried to meet his eyes.

    He took in the white knuckles that gripped her gloves, the unyielding lines of her body, and felt his heart crash. “May I write to you?”

    Relief flared in her gaze. “Of course.”

    Marshaling courage that seemed overdone for a city street, he swallowed. “And may I, just this once, kiss you?” At her hesitation, he grew bold. “Please. Just in case.”

    Pain folded her in cold arms. “All right. Just this once.” He’s off to war. He could die. She reminded herself of these things and nodded her permission.

    Expression solemn, he touched her waist. Their lips met, a swift caress on a street corner, before he nodded and thanked her.

    His step was slow as he walked down to the train.

    She didn’t move for fifteen minutes, her bare fingers pressed to her mouth.

  4. She lingered on the corner by the gate, her hummingbird heartbeat matched by the constant movement of her eyes as she scanned the crowd. She had waited for so long to have him back, hanging on for torn letters and words that soothed and stung. And then he was there, travel –dirtied but smiling, standing awkwardly in front of her.

    She went to speak but he shook his head and stepped forward, his hands fitting to the curve of her waist as he moved his face close enough that she could see the bloodshot pink of his eyes. His lips whispered to hers, brushing across them like butterfly wings. Instead of kissing back she cried, for she knew what came next.

    She awoke to sweat-soaked sheets and a lonely heart, tears dripping into her lap. It had been three months since he had died at war and every night was the same, taunting and teasing her with the promise of what would never be. She was exhausted in the ways sleep couldn’t solve; bone-deep tiredness covering her like a blanket. She prayed as she always did, asking God to keep him safe until they’d meet again.

  5. Word count: 138
    Twitter handle: @AnnaLund2011

    I am ninety years old today. And I still dream of that kiss.

    I never ever thought I’d get this far. I never imagined life like this.
    And I never imagined it without you.
    You were the reason for my existence, my only reason for breathing, for existing, for surviving.

    And yet, I have had to do it all without you, every, single day of this life that was supposed to be ours. All you promised in that one kiss of farewell—none of it ever came true.

    All I have ever had is that one kiss. That is all that was left of you for me, and I have waited. And waited. And now I am done.

    I am done. The war killed me. But today I am dying.

    I read your letter again, starting, “Dear John…”

  6. @bkhchica
    Word Count: 200

    “Wait a minute. You’re what?”

    Her giggle sounded over the line, “I said, I’m pregnant.”

    I whooped loudly, my smile splitting my face from ear to ear. “Really? That’s fantastic, baby! When?”

    “I’m about thirteen weeks along now. I figure it was-“

    “When I came home on R&R.”

    “Yeah. I should have told you already, but I wanted to wait until I could see your face. Not just read your excitement,” her smile was wide, but her sigh was telling. “I miss you, Captain.”

    “I miss you, too, baby. You know what I’d really love right now?”

    “What’s that?”

    “To kiss you.” I put my fingers to my mouth then touched the computer screen.

    Tears filled her big green eyes, “Me too. Promise me you’ll be careful.”


    The sound of the alarm cut our time short and I said good-bye. My heart begged for understanding.

    The sound of missiles dropping had us all running for cover. Shrapnel was flying everywhere.

    Suddenly I was weightless, soaring through the air, white-hot pain slicing through me. Burning. God it hurt so bad. I saw red, covering everything. Blood. Then blessed relief as I succumbed to the inevitable.

    Take care, my love. I tried.

  7. @darlingveruca
    200 words

    He’s not sure if she’ll show. They only met the night before, after all. His company got the word they were going home - the war was over. Thank God, they were finally going home.

    The club, filled with smoke, clinking glasses, had this mood that lifted you up, held you high on its shoulders. Then there she was, like something out of a black and white. Boy, was she pretty.

    It’s getting late. He needs to report back within the hour.

    He figured, why not? “Hello, ma’am,” he said, and she gave him this look that made him go warm inside.

    They danced until her feet hurt – she said as much. He said, “Stand on mine. I’ll do the work.” Because damned if he wanted to stop holding this special girl.

    He’s pretty certain she’s not coming. Strangers smile and nod. He returns their gestures half-heartedly.

    She kissed his cheek and he was positive she was the one. His brother would call him crazy for falling in love in one night.

    He smiles because there she is running down the sidewalk, to him, and he knows she feels it too. She says, “Come back” and he says “Oh, yes.”

  8. Twitter: @quietdrabble
    Word Count: 200

    “Tell me again.” The childlike wonder lit in her eyes as I tugged the blanket up under her chin.

    “We met in a small cafe …” I began the story as I did every time. I’d repeated the words so many times, I easily transitioned to the film reel inside my head: his piercing eyes, tracing my every movement that first night, his warm hands as they held my waist and we danced for the first time. Our first embrace, our first kiss, the first time we made love, each memory embedded deeply in my mind. Not a moment passed without thoughts of my love. Sending him off to war with one last kiss, I carried our unborn daughter inside my womb.

    “…then your daddy kissed me. His parting words …”

    “I’ll be seeing you,” her small voice rang out.

    “Yeah, baby.” I brushed her cheek.

    “Daddy was handsome.” Her chubby fingers traced the picture I clutched. “Mama, do you think Daddy would have loved me as much as he loved you?”

    “Oh, I’m absolutely sure of it, sweetheart.” I kissed her forehead goodnight.

    “I’ll be seeing you.”

    I heard the ghost of a whisper on remembered lips echo through the night.

  9. Twitter: @Aleeab4u
    198 words
    . . . . . .

    "Life is uncertain."

    That's what you said when we met and I asked, "Who do you love? What will you be?"

    I smiled at your answer, because for me everything was certain.

    You were meant to be mine.

    And for a while you were. Blissfully so. Days of laughter and soft as air kisses. Nights of touch, and oh, and yes, please, where you lifted me to the stars and held me there, suspended and trembling.

    "Life is uncertain."

    That's what you said when the war began, and you were drafted within hours.

    You held me close and whispered nonsense into my hair.

    "Be strong. Don't cry."

    As if either were possible.

    I kissed you goodbye, held your taste on my tongue for as long as I could.

    Sporadic letters gave way to months of silence and then, finally. . . you came home.

    I watched you walk to me, handsome in your uniform, though I could see in your eyes the change in you, the weight of things never undone or unseen.

    You slid your hands around my waist and sighed, and I knew as I held you.

    'Life' is uncertain.

    Never us.

    Welcome home, love.

  10. Sherbert20111 on FF
    Wordcount 200

    “Tripping the light fantastic tomorrow?”

    “Something like that - body double you know? I get to stand in while they set up frames and such.”

    “Don’t forget me?”

    “Sure, sure.”

    I can’t help chuckling as my flat-mate walks backwards out of my room, bowing like I’m this la-di-da star. More like anything to service the student loan. My dreams overnight are loaded with tall, dark Italian Directors saying, “vonderful dahling.”

    “Ok, you’re all done!”

    The stylist beams at me from the mirror. I scarcely recognize myself in the 40’s style coat never mind the wig and the face paint. Except for the scared rabbit look around the eyes, I look like a fully fledged member of the cast.

    “What’s he like?”

    “You sound like Annina, asking about Captain Renault.”

    I can’t help but laugh. “Do I? I’m only the stand-in, I don’t even have to be in character.”

    “Could’ve fooled me. You’ll be fine. Don’t forget me?”

    “Cut. Check the gate.”

    “Gate is good.”

    He doesn’t have a body double, he uses the time to help get into character. He’s a great kisser, he also got me a screen test.

    “Don’t forget me,” he whispers against my lips.

  11. Twitter: @QuinnSkylark
    Word Count: 200

    “Madeline?” My name is spoken by a ghost from my past. My body freezes, belying the acceleration of my heartbeat. I shouldn’t turn around; I refuse to pretend that I’ve heard a voice that isn’t really here.

    I’ve given up. The war ended eight months earlier, and I have yet to receive word. Part of me wishes they would find his body—give me a husband to bury.

    Carl and I were only married for a week when he left for Europe. Our impromptu elopement was beautiful, filled with love and promise. But Carl has been missing in action since April 7, 1942, when his P-51 Mustang was shot down over France.

    “I’m home,” the voice says; it’s closer this time. I close my eyes tightly, not wanting to see the smoke of the ghost when it drifts past me.

    Only, this time, the ghost is made of flesh, bones, and blood. I feel it, even through the layers of my dress. When I open my eyes, there is no preamble, no words.

    His lips descend to mine, and we are whisked back in time, as if the four years of war never happened.

    “You’ve come back to me.”

  12. @shellisthimbles
    200 ineligible words


    My grandfather’s hands are withered, yellowed and spotted with age. When I was small, I recoiled from them. Now, I regret every backwards step I took.

    “It was September, 1942,” he says in his creaky voice, apropos of nothing.

    I start recording. “What happened in September, 1942, Grandpa?” When he gives a date, I know now to listen. I’ve become greedy for these borrowed memories, hoarding them away. He’s the only remaining volume of my family history, and I need every detail he can pull from his age-weary mind.

    “September 12,” he says. “I came home and she was there waiting for me. Of course, it wasn’t proper. Oh, her mother was furious.” He wheezes a chuckle. “We weren’t engaged, and her family didn’t like me anyway. But I didn’t care. I kissed her on the mouth in front of everyone.”

    Shaky hands reach for his draw. The faded photograph flutters in his grasp.

    “I kissed her. I couldn’t have stopped myself if I tried. The attacks on Sydney Harbour were a few months earlier. I’d been in a right state when I heard.”

    He hands me the picture. The edges are yellowed, curling.

    My hands shake. That’s not Grandma.

  13. @VanCanuckGrl

    199 words

    There were only a few short minutes left together before he was to depart. Though they never spoke of it, both knew the very moment could be their last. With his hands poised on her waist, he paused. I picture him staring into her big brown eyes, wet with tears. Wiping away the sadness that stained her cheeks with his thumbs, he shook his head at her.

    “Don’t cry, my love. You promised.”

    She mumbled an apology and gave a shy smile.

    “You’ll always be my girl, you know that?”

    Her smile brightened then faded as the officer announced everyone must board. He leaned in with hooded eyes, his mouth descended upon hers.

    Grandma hands me the photo that captured their private moment, wiping away more tears.

    “Charlotte, that was my first kiss with my first love. The kiss was soft and brief; chaste and proper. It was, by far, the best kiss of my entire life.”

    A smile tugs at her lips as she winks at me.

    “Let’s not tell your Grandpa that part.”

    The man in the picture never made it home. That photo still haunts her and looking at it, it haunts me now as well.

  14. Twitter: @hummingbirdFF
    Word count: 190

    It was never supposed to happen. We were friends.

    I wasn’t supposed to fall for my army boy.

    But I did, and I fell hard.

    Luckily he seemed to fall as quickly as I did.

    A long distance relationship doesn’t seem half as tough when he’s stuck in army training anyway. At least not to me.

    And so I worked hard—he would complete his service two months after I graduate from college. We could start building a future together.

    I was so excited to share my plans before he deployed. I would be giving up everything, but I would be with him. I wanted him to be as happy as I was and to be hopeful for our future.



    Instead, all I heard was hesitation. And then resistance.

    “I can’t wait for you.”

    My foul-mouthed, beer-loving, skirt-chasing army boy.

    I knew that it was a mistake to fall in love with him, but it did not stop my heart from breaking at his words.

    “I can’t wait for you.”

    Isn’t this supposed to be the other way around?

    “I can’t wait for you,” he said to me.


  15. Author: JenEsme
    Word Count: 193
    (Sorry it's a few minutes late--I had trouble logging in.)

    As he leaned in for a kiss my back straightened, my stomach lurched. I had to relax, to make it believable when everything inside was screaming to push him away. I gripped my gloves tightly to keep my hand from slapping him across the face.
    He was the enemy, a monster.
    I took a deep breath and closed my eyes as his lips touched mine. I moaned and parted my lips, inviting his vile tongue into my mouth, diverting his attention as I slid my hand into his pocket. My fingers found paper. The list!
    I slid it up my sleeve just in time. He peered into my eyes, his own filled with lust and took my hand, urging me through the gate, into his bed.
    “Darling, I wish I could, but we both know you’re married.” I gave him a final kiss, hoping he read longing and regret in my features, when I felt nothing but disgust.
    I walked away and turned to blow him a kiss, ensuring that the list would stay safely in my sleeve. The list that meant freedom for my family and hundreds of others.
    “Auf weidersehen, Darling.”