Thursday, April 4, 2013

week 10 fanficflashfic

The very lovely @TiramiSue84, our week 9 winner, has selected this week's prompt.

Here it is:

Remember to check the rules. 

Have your 100 - 200 words submitted by 12:00am Friday, April 5, US EDST.

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. @cynthiamk78

    Word count: 105

    She breezed into the restaurant to meet him for dinner, slightly out of breath from hurrying down the sidewalk. While unwinding her scarf from her neck, she searched the darkened interior for his handsome face. She wasn’t really late, but it was unusual for him to get places before she did. She couldn’t help but smile at him and grab his hand as he greeted her and she sat down. Every time they met, warmth grew in her chest and on her cheeks. She had loved him for what felt like forever by now; his answering grin confirmed without words that he felt the same.

  2. @sandyquill

    Word count: 199

    = = =

    “You wrote what?” Aidan O’Day studied blue-eyed bartender suspiciously. “In my bar?”

    With a grin, Kari bounced up on her toes. “It’s Valentine’s Day. Love is in the air and all.” She commenced polishing the taps. “Just watch.”

    Aidan sighed and rolled broad shoulders. “But, sweetheart, he’s not even Irish!”

    “Shakespeare is universal. Trust me.”

    “Fine, but you owe me...”

    “All my tips if anyone breaks out fighting. I know.”

    They laughed.

    Most of the patrons in O’Day’s that night were alone, or groups of friends keeping company on a day usually devoted to lovers. Aidan worked shoulder to shoulder with Kari all night, listening to her bantering with the customers. Some of the men made their own sodden plays for the redhead, but she brushed them off with a sweet smile and a subtle shift in posture. She was a real asset to the bar, his business, and he always looked forward to working with her.

    It hit him, all at once, right around half past eleven. He stared at her at a brief lull in business, mouth open.

    She pointed at Shakespeare’s quote and placed her hand on his chest. “I know. Me, too.”

    And she smiled.

    1. ...and I'm mortified. But the missing "the" in the first line would bring the word count to 200. So. Yeah.


    2. But 200 words would still be okay, wouldn't it? The rules say "Have your 100 - 200 words submitted" and I take that as 200 is okay. And besides, your story is 190 words according to Word. yYou have ten to spare! LOL

    3. This is great! And we all miss a word now and then! Don't sweat it!

  3. This quote is actually NOT by Shakespeare, but by the Italian poet and novelist Arrigo Boito, (one of my homies, as it were):
    “Come ti vidi m'innamorai, e tu sorridi perché lo sai.”
    (“The moment I saw you, I fell in love, and you smile because you know.”).

    Word count: 192
    Twitter handle: @AnnaLund2011

    Forty-three years have passed since that first day I saw you, and still, when you walk into the room, I lose my grip on reality; I feel a pressure over my chest.

    And still, after all these years, you turn around and smile. Because you know what it does to me. You know I can’t breathe right when you smile.

    You love the power you have over me.

    Life is still much like being at school. The cool kids still get chosen before the rest of us. And me? I always end up on the “Oh, well, I’ll take Peter, then” — when there is absolutely nobody else left to choose from.

    That doesn’t make it right; it doesn’t make it better. It’s just something that defines who I am; something that shows me that everyone will always choose someone else first.

    So, Sarah, keep smiling. Find strength wherever you can, dear.

    The moment I saw you, I fell in love, and you smile because you know it.

    So when I finally crash my car straight into yours, killing you on the spot, I feel I’ve done my part. Finally. I smile, too.

  4. 2old4fanfic
    132 words

    My mother held my hand when my big brothers scrambled up the old white pine, saying I was too little. They taunted me from its branches like magpies, calling me ‘baby’ and ‘pipsqueak’.

    You were no bigger, your mother tethering you to the earth as well with a sharp tongue and a keen eye.

    Fourth of July, my brothers away at camp, my parents drinking with yours by the barbeque, I made my escape. Bark bit into my knees, palms raw from gripping each limb as if it was the last thing I’d ever do. Sweating, panting, I made it to the top, where you sat, finger to your lips keeping our secret. I fell, not from the tree, but in love with you. Your smiling brown eyes told me you knew.

  5. @bkhchica
    Word Count: 200

    Sugary sweet, red and blue blended into purple on a path down her arm. Sticky smiles and bubbled laughter echoed as she swiped at the mess, smearing it into her arm. Her green eyes sparkled with utter joy.

    He was digging in the sand box, making sand castles and crashing them. He frowned in concentration, making sure it was just right.

    Her feet danced her closer to him. “Hey Garrett! Wanna try my popsicle?”

    Blue eyes met green and he smiled, nodding enthusiastically. She held it out and pink darted out to swipe at cherry red. They shared the half-melted treat and raced to the trash to throw the stick away.

    Running to the swings, they each sat down quickly, before the others got them. “I was gonna swing there!” a voice bellowed behind the girl’s small frame. A hard shove to her back sent her sprawling to the ground. Wet diamonds shimmered in her eyes and spilled over.

    “Hey! Don’t push her, Josh!” Garrett yelled, swinging his squeezed-tight fist at the bully’s nose. “Are you okay, Mel?” Chubby fingers wiped her tears away.

    Nodding, she sighed, “My hero,” and left sticky sweet on his cheek from cherry flavored lips.

  6. @sparrownotes24
    Word count: 196

    I stand before a sea of eager eyes that watch the second hand as it makes its final pass. The rustling of a thousand sheets of paper, at the striking of the hour, is replaced with the calm hum of nervous silence.

    White dust spins and dances through the sunlight as I brush away words belonging to those who linger in another time but gift us with worlds we can fall into with the turn of a page.

    A breeze stirs the fresh green leaves outside and finds its way through the open window, ruffling the dark curls around my shoulders. I turn my face to the summer-heated glass and close my eyes in contentment.

    The sound of wood clattering against tile ricochets into the stillness as a pencil rolls across the floor. I bend down to collect and return it to its owner.

    Fingers brush and eyes linger—a private moment in a crowded space.

    The sensation of your gaze never dulls, and only heightens, when your lips curl into a smile.

    You understand the blush of my cheeks and the wonder in my eyes more than the love story you’re meant to be describing.

  7. @chocaholic12345
    Word count 161

    You've been watching me.

    I've felt your eyes burning a hole in my pale skin, every time I walk into the restaurant with him.

    It's in the way you gently place my food before me, the measured way you pour my wine. I see your tongue snake out to moisten your lips, and I have to look away. I can't let him know.

    You ask if we want to see the specials, and he shakes his head angrily, because he always orders the same thing. A fillet steak for him, still bloody and raw, and a garden salad for me. He likes me hungry.

    I glance anyway, my eyes drawn to the board like iron filings to a magnet. That's when I see the words, in chalk, and I know you wrote them for me.

    My heart stutters a little, and I glance back down, unable to meet your pale blue eyes. Because you know me.

    It's everything.

    It's never enough.

  8. @femme_mal
    196 words

    Surveying her handiwork, she nearly stepped on his foot while wiping her chalk-dusted hands on her apron.

    “I’m sorry, but that quote isn’t by Shakespeare,” he whispered over her shoulder, his breath tickling her ear. She spun around, looking first into an athletic, broad chest and then upward, meeting his amused eyes.

    “I was hoping to meet someone who knew that,” she smirked.

    “Yes, it’s a quote by Arrigo Boito often misattributed to the Bard.” He smiled more broadly, exposing his dimples. “I’d love to discuss this over coffee, though.” His raised eyebrows queried his hopes.

    “As soon as I’m off duty, say 10:00 p.m.?” Her own arched brow and a saucy smile answered and challenged.

    “But you must tell me the source of this quote, and whether used it in an opera.”

    He grinned, delighted. “Ten it is, right here.”

    She nodded. “Deal. I’ll be waiting. How can I help you now?”

    “A table for two, suitable for a business lunch. My client will be here in a moment.”

    As she gestured to a waiter, he leaned over her shoulder again, to whisper, “Verdi’s Falstaff, Act Two.”

    She smiled back.

    And they knew.

    1. Thank you for this! Beautiful! Perfect attribution! LOL

  9. @jonesn353402
    111 words

    Do you remember when we first met?
    Of course you don’t.
    You never do.
    You never remember anything, merely insignificant or of vital importance.
    I swear…
    Where you left the keys.
    If you turned off the curling iron.
    Our anniversary.
    Which was yesterday, by the way.
    “All day, yesterday,” I say, expecting your sorry silence.
    And then I see it.
    The reprieve of your lips.
    The way they entirely atone with just a subtle, upturned curve.
    And all’s forgiven.
    Forgotten is the fault in all your fairness.
    And I remember.
    I remember when we first met.
    How I knew I loved you then.
    All you have to do is smile.

  10. @bigblueboat
    Word Count: 199

    Your smile over a Macchiato let me know the truth: we were meant to be. I smiled back, sipped my tea and returned to my copy of the Sunday crossword.

    She interrupted us, claiming you for herself when we both knew what the stars foretold.

    You met me again the following Sunday, the crossword puzzle tucked under your arm. This time she was nowhere to be seen. I was glad we would be spending time alone.

    Last weekend she decided to make another appearance, trying to get me to leave you be. But, how can I do that? You are mine, as I am yours.

    I followed her. I just wanted her to understand that she was in the way of our love.

    She was the one to put up a fight. Had she not, eternal sleep would have come peacefully. Instead there were punches, scratches and breaks.

    You rushed in with the cops, tears pouring from your eyes when you spotted us.

    I know you recognized the fresh bruises on my face and arms as proof of our love.

    Don’t worry. She can't keep us apart any longer, neither will these iron bars. We’re destined to be together.

  11. It was cold, sterile, intense.

    Everyone talked at once, vying for my attention, dashing around chaotically.

    I remember the pain. It consumed me. Some day you’ll hurt and think it can’t get worse, but trust me when I say it can. It did. Much worse.

    “One more time”, they said. “You can do this. Just once more, please, we know you can do this. It’s almost over.” I didn’t believe them. After all, I’d hurt for so long and it still wasn’t over. However, I had no choice.

    It turns out they were right. One last time I gave all I had. Every ounce of strength and determination left in me, I willed myself and gave it all. The sacrifice was worth it.

    And then it was over. I felt relief, loss and peace. I heard your tiny mewling cry, a balm to my distress. They disconnected the cord that bound us as one. Securely bundled they laid you in my arms.

    Body trembling, hands shaking, tears threatening, I caressed your cheek as my hungry eyes devoured you. My heart pounded with love for you. Imagine my surprise when you opened your eyes and smiled. You already knew.

    1. Word count is 198...forgot to post that. No twitter account! Sorry!

  12. @lellabeth
    200 words

    I walk home, avoiding the cracks in the pavement; the last of the summer heat sitting hazy in the air. A lemon-yellow cab horn blares, and I raise my head.

    As your eyes meet mine across the crowded café, it’s as if a wrecking ball crashes into the space between my clavicles; the persimmon sunset warming my back nothing compared to the light coming from the curved corner of your mouth, and the knot that’s kept my stomach tense for so long seems to unfurl as the smile spreads across your face. I step toward the door but the memories of first love push their way up my throat, raspberry-tart heartbreak bitter like bile as it anchors me to the sidewalk and I feel like I’m trying to wade through pomegranate molasses. The pain maps a path across my chest, spider-webbing through my veins and I have to fight against the hurt that now clings to my back like a second skin.

    But then you’re in front of me opening the door, white teeth and chapped cherry lips, and everything else falls away. Your cheeks are flushed strawberry red, and I think this time around love might just taste sweeter.

  13. Twitter: @hummingbirdFF
    Word count: 182


    I kept my eyes shut. Fear was making my heart race in my chest. One touch of your hand was all it took, though. It eased my nerves and gave me the courage to open my eyes.

    Even with the blinds drawn and the lights out, my eyes stung. But I could not wipe the smile from my face. The slight pain meant that this was real—the lights, the colours, the fuzzy shapes.

    A quiet sob drew my attention to my side, to you. Your face was right in front of mine. Perfect mahogany curls clung to the tears on your creamy cheeks. Your eyes, red-rimmed, but still indescribably beautiful to me. And your lovely lips, quivering.

    My fingers traced a path across your face, one too familiar and yet so different now. “You are as gorgeous on the outside as you are on the inside. I love you. I love you so much.”

    A few sobs escaped your lips, but they quickly gave way to most beautiful smile. A smile meant only for me. A smile I could finally see.


  14. pinkcookie (PM at 4, 2013 at 7:09 PM

    Pinkcookie (private message me at
    Word Count: 186

    Usually these maintenance jobs were a snap. Just go in and check out the heating and air conditioning systems, change some air filters, fill out the paperwork, and get a signature and go. But this woman was driving me crazy! Could I take off my shoes at the door? Could I wash my hands before I touched anything? Did I use the expensive air filters that captured mold spores and bacteria?

    Normally, fussy customers don’t bother me. However, ever since donating bone marrow I had been sore and cranky. It was a surprise when I got the urgent call that I was a match for someone. Even though I had a fever from a head cold and was told that meant extended recovery time, I insisted on donating.

    As I walked upstairs to change the last air filter, the lady of the house stopped me and asked me to put on a face mask. As I walked into the bedroom, she explained that her daughter was just out of the hospital after receiving a bone marrow transplant. My head snapped up and when I saw you I fell in love and you smiled because you knew.

  15. @bigblueboat
    Word count: 198


    Yesterday I got my hopes up. She had the perfect-sized scratchers that reached through the divide. I knew she would play well. The giant two-legged next to her said I was too small, that I would make too much noise. They left without me.

    My mom taught me to be polite: no biting, no roughhousing with the two-leggeds, and no peeing on carpets. Apparently I didn’t learn fast enough. The first two-leggeds still put me here, behind the links with no bones or green balls to gnaw on.

    Today has been quiet. No two-leggeds have shown up, and I’ve already chased the butterflies.

    I wait for my dinner. Instead of blue, I see a new giant’s paws as they pass by me. He doesn’t bother to stop and give me attention. However, on his way back to the door, he stops to look at me, sounds coming from his mouth. His scratchers are too big to reach me. I give them a small lick.

    My door swings open, and he squishes me against his fur. “Play?” I ask, tail wagging. He stands up with me still clasped in his non-legs. Teeth appear. I take that as a yes.

  16. @megan_timms 200 words

    He paced. He sighed. He couldn’t settle. Worrying his bottom lip with his teeth, checking his watch one more time.

    The airport buzzing with the chaos expected five days before Christmas. A mass of bobble hats, bright hued cheeks flushed from the cold, North Face logos and the scent of cinnamon brought a strange sense of calm over what was the most nerve wracking day of his life.

    Six months of emails, instant messaging, and phone calls; learning about each other, falling deeper every day. Photographs exchanged, intentions declared via Skype calls.

    And here he was. He wiped his forehead, damp with sweat, with his handkerchief and struggled to steady his breathing. His heart was pounding a million miles a minute and the airport sounds were all a blur in his ears.

    He fought against that little voice at the back of his mind that tried to tell him he was crazy.

    And then, the mass of people parted like the Red Sea and there she was. Her flowing locks of mahogany hair framing her beautiful face, her eyes searching for him in the crowd.

    When her eyes fell upon his, he knew. And she smiled, because she knew too.

  17. @CrackedFic
    197 words

    The old bartender listened while polishing beer glasses.

    "But there's no thy and thou and shit. It ain't Shakespeare."

    "Dude, of course it's Shakespeare. I saw it on Tumblr like, fifty times."

    "Don't do it, man. She'll know. She's a fuckin' English major. It'll ruin the mood."

    "I know what I'm doing. She's going to freak."

    "Don't say I didn't warn you."

    Skeptical guy threw a five on the bar. "Bud light."

    The bartender set down a bottle and two ones.

    Lovesick guy hit the restroom again.

    The girl walked up. She looked at the sign. Tilted her head, rolled her eyes. Then the corners of her mouth lifted slightly, and she looked around, searching.

    Lovesick guy came back, tucking in his shirt. He saw her and pulled a box from his pocket, opened it and held it out in front of him.

    "Will you marry me?"

    "Oh my God yes!" She jumped into his arms and kissed him.

    Skeptical guy set down his beer and grumbled. "I still say it ain't Shakespeare."

    The bartender noticed him for the first time.

    "Shut up," he said, wiping away a tear. "It don't matter. It don't matter at all."

  18. Pinkcookie (PM me at 4, 2013 at 9:42 PM

    Word Count: 187

    The audience was wild today. But, after all, that is part of what has kept ‘Bid and Win’ on the air for so many years. Being the new guy, I was nervous that the show’s popularity would continue during my time as the show’s host. Taking a peek from backstage I hoped I could contain some of the wilder contestants. After yesterday’s tackle from a rather large woman, I was a bit gun shy. A kiss on the cheek from some girl was one thing, but having a large, 70-something wrap her legs around your waist and dry hump you on national TV was so embarrassing!

    I heard the stage manager say, “Three seconds, Edward,” and taking a deep breath, put on my trademark smile for the crowd as I confidently strode out to my mark on stage. The announcer began calling the contestants that would be bidding and I greeted each one enthusiastically. Then, it happened. The announcer called your name: “Bella!” I looked up and when I saw you I fell in love and you smiled because you knew. Best new job ever!

  19. word count: 200

    "That isn't Shakespeare," are her first words to me, and even though her tone is indignant, and her eyes tired, on the inside I'm beaming with triumph.

    "It's Arrigo Boito," she continues, adjusting her broken glasses. They have more tape on them than last week. "He wrote about Shakespeare's work, but they weren't even contemporaries."

    I'm trying not to smile. I know.

    Every Thursday at four, this brunette bookworm comes into the coffeeshop where I work. Wearing black fourteen hole docs, smelling like evergreen and pink lemonade, she orders a latte and reads in the same green velvet wingback until six. Pretty in an offbeat, wounded way, she's been hit on a few times, but never talks to anyone.

    Until now.

    "Oh, I'm so sorry about that," I apologize, heart thrumming. "Thanks for pointing it out." I grab a notepad and pencil and ask, "Can you suggest a better one, maybe?"

    She hums, and I can almost hear her thinking. It sounds like rain over the ocean.

    "'Adventure in life is good," she starts, "Consistency in coffee even better.' That's Justina Chen."

    I nod and begin to write, and when I pause to steal a glance, she's smiling.


  20. Word count:200

    I step on to the escalator, juggling my purse, laptop bag, and keys in order to grab at the handrail. Tipping backwards in these heels would be just my luck. Getting a firm grip, I settle in for the ride, and look up.

    And then I see you. Taking a ride down the opposite side. Tousled hair, soft smile, gentle eyes. You radiate youth and energy. You glance around and see me, but instead of looking away you hold my gaze. I should be embarrassed but I can’t make myself look away. I want to burn you into my memory and remember you later. Forever.

    You abruptly turn around and start walking back up the down-moving stairs. I’m puzzled, as are those you are gently pushing past. You start jogging up and hop off the top stair. Maybe you forgot something in your car, is the only thing I can think.

    And then I reach the top and step off myself. I rearrange my bags, take a step to the side- and there you are. Waiting for me. Smiling. And right before you open your mouth to introduce yourself to me, I think…maybe I won’t need your memory after all.

  21. Twitter: @hummingbirdFF
    Word count: 199


    Bright eyes, bright smile. You light up the room with your mere presence. The little ones sit in rapture as they listen to your soothing voice.

    Fairies and witches and ogres and princes come to life before them… you make their world just a little simpler. For a short while they can forget that they’re the kid of a sick parent, a parent that they’ll eventually lose.

    You are incredible.

    My little princess comes bouncing out of the room. It’s a good day for both of us, so I decide to take her for some ice-cream. As she runs up to the counter, my thoughts linger on you. And suddenly you are there, walking through the doorway. Your eyes catch mine, and I am in awe. I can see you’re not quite sure of our connection, but still your lips turn into a breathtaking smile. I can almost feel my heart skip a beat at the sight.

    Then your eyes shift down, and I watch as your entire expression crumbles. I look down to see my little miracle smiling up at me, and I realize the same thing you just did—we can never have a happily ever after.