Short Fiction: Post Some

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Short Fiction: Post Some

    • Geoff Nicholson
      Participant

      More complete than a vignette, but shorter than a short story; preferably prose, bu elegant in its simplicity. Some where, some when, this reality or another. No longer than a thousand words, but preferably more than just setting the scene.

      When you get stuck in your current project, sometimes all you need to reinvigorate your mojo is a quick flash of something else. And here’s where you can put them once you’ve flashed that inspiration onto the page.

      So, please! Share and Enjoy!

    • Nurse Imbri
      Participant

      Ultra short Fiction (I believe under 100 words and a complete story…)

      dark
      alone
      it’s coming
      HELP

      Scrawled on this wall in his own blood, but you didn’t notice! What’s another street-person to you? When the other 15 disappeared you just said

    • Mr. Masheck
      Participant

      I’ve experimented with some Flash Fiction lately and to its literal extent of fifty-five words.

      A Drip in the Dark:

      “I don

    • Geoff Nicholson
      Participant

      “With the blessings of the All-Father, I claim this planet in the name of

    • Prof. Magnus
      Participant

      This is a work in progress. It was inspired by the TSU RP site.

      The Job

    • ‘The Rise of the Consortium’
      The recession was getting worse by the day. Governments weren

    • Geoff Nicholson
      Participant

      Albus wretched, but thankfully was able to keep his stomach under control. For some reason, his inner ear was able to tell when he time-shifted and it threw him for a loop every time. This was the main reason why he skipped Miss Simmon’s tea and biscuits at the briefings; the other being that they were rock-hard even after a dunk and he wondered if she was using the facility to serve biscuits from the War.

      He used the the hunger to focus his mind, and calm his gut. It was supposed to be 1917, but he wouldn’t know until he found a newspaper. His Temporal Manipulator wasn’t exact like the Excursion Chambers the enemy used, but it was certainly more portable. And besides, he’d only got the decade wrong once. He had a nagging feeling about the day, however. The calculations were very complex.

      Pulling himself out of the bushes, he alighted on the road and after a quick of his bearings, headed north. If he’d landed in the right decade there would be a town over the next hill, and he’d be able to get a paper there. It was a nice walk, and it gave him an opportunity to practice his Russian. The rolling hills were cool and forested, and as he descended into the town, he wondered if he was on the wrong side of the hill to see the tea fields.

      “Dobroye utro!” he called out when he saw a farmer tending an ox-cart. he continued.

      The farmer shook his head, and kept going. He grumbled something in a language that was distinctly not Russian. It wasn’t Ukranian either, and at this moment Albus realized he was actually lost. Not physically, as he recognized the valley as being the Kuban. Temporally; he was positive this wasn’t 1917… but when was he? He hoped he wasn’t too far off, and the farmer was just being obtuse, but if he had misjudged and dropped into the Crimean… or worse the Circassian.

    • Raptor
      Participant

      (I know I’m not a member of this, but I like writing fiction) This is a piece of fiction written with some present and past characters from a Vampire: The Masquerade LARP system I play.

      Lewis sighed.

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