Flash Fiction

[Rumple Foreskin]

Gags, wheezes, coughs and other disgusting noises are heard while the speaker clears his throat.

My sister and brother AH'ers, and all those in-between and indefinite, IMHO, Literotica and its writers might benefit from the creation of a flash fiction category. Since 750 words is the Lit minimum, the max word limit for flash fiction could be 749. I'd suggest it be open to any category, but urge writers to mention their story's category type in the description field.

I've no idea if there's any interest or if it's even practical. Any thoughts?

Rumple Foreskin

 

[TxRad]

Nothing and i mean nothing i write gets much under 5k words..... so.....

long winded TxRad signing off.....

 

[OhMissScarlett]

Ooh, short attention span fiction. I like the idea. Authors, please remember to wank field test your submissions before posting.

 

[Kev H]

I will vote "unsure" until you post some good examples of your idea.

Kev

 

[R. Richard]

I would be interested, but only because I have an audio story I had to bulk up a bit to make the 750 word minimum.

 

[yui]

Gags, wheezes, coughs and other disgusting noises are heard while the speaker clears his throat.

My sister and brother AH'ers, and all those in-between and indefinite, IMHO, Literotica and its writers might benefit from the creation of a flash fiction category. Since 750 words is the Lit minimum, the max word limit for flash fiction could be 749. I'd suggest it be open to any category, but urge writers to mention their story's category type in the description field.

I've no idea if there's any interest or if it's even practical. Any thoughts?

Rumple Foreskin

Under 750 words is almost a poetry of sorts. Mebbe?

Tho, I am certain that the poets will disagree. Brevity is its own sort of brilliance.

Luck,

Yui

 

[BlackShanglan]

I like the idea. I've always enjoyed short-short fiction. I can't write it worth toffee, but I enjoy the efforts of others. It would be especially nice for those nights when my time is short, but I would like to read what others are up to.

Shanglan

 

[logophile]

There are pieces I've posted as poetry that are really a lot more like flash fiction than like poems, but I didn't have anywhere else to put them. I also have a few scenes I would love to post, but they don't quite 750 words. My newest piece (still pending) was right at 750 words (with few to spare) and I would have rather pared it a little and submitted it as flash fiction cause it's not a whole story, but the writing is decent.

In short (too late) I voted that I'd love to see a flash fiction section.
Or at least, I clicked the button next to the word "Interested."
Same thing, right?

 

[Rumple Foreskin]

There are pieces I've posted as poetry that are really a lot more like flash fiction than like poems, but I didn't have anywhere else to put them. I also have a few scenes I would love to post, but they don't quite 750 words. My newest piece (still pending) was right at 750 words (with few to spare) and I would have rather pared it a little and submitted it as flash fiction cause it's not a whole story, but the writing is decent.

In short (too late) I voted that I'd love to see a flash fiction section.
Or at least, I clicked the button next to the word "Interested."
Same thing, right?

Right as usual, super-star Logo.

Rumple Foreskin

 

[Colleen Thomas]

I can barely do an intro in under 1K words. I have a feeling you would get a lot of crap in the proposed section. On the other hand, most magazines have pretty low word strictures for articles. So it would have some utility for writers, in that reguard.

I can't relly see getting a story in under 150 words. perhaps a vingette. Even then, I would have a terrible time trying it. too much I would want to say.

Dosen't the snippetsville group do this? Under 750 word stories?

 

[Guest]

See what a group of AH'ers managed to do with just 600 words as the Snippetsville Group

 

[impressive]

Under 750 words is almost a poetry of sorts. Mebbe?

Tho, I am certain that the poets will disagree. Brevity is its own sort of brilliance.

In some cases, I agree it's more poetic. Others, as I will soon be posting, not so much. I just entered two 500-word pieces in Desdmona's Stiletto contest -- one dealing with the shoe stiletto and the other with the knife stiletto. Neither (individually) can be posted to Lit. However, I plan to combine them into one piece with the tag line "variations on a theme" and submit 'em in an as yet undecided category.


So, to sum up, I would be interested in flashing.

 

[logophile]

I would be interested in flashing.

Course you would, you saucy minx...

 

[BlackSnake]

What if the range was 450 to 749 words? I'm thinking that we could get more than, "I saw her and then I went home and jerked off, because she was so hot."

 

[oggbashan]

So that's why...

...my fifty word stories in the last three contests didn't get any votes.

No one noticed that I had been doing flash fiction.

I had to write 15 stories each 50 words long to fit the Literotica minimum of 750 words.

15 people could write a chain story with each part being 50 words long.

Og

PS. I know the AH members did notice. Your PCs and feedback were much appreciated.

PPS. Here is a sample of my first 50 word stories, posted as 'Poetry' in 2003:

Fifty Word Femdom

Her black-booted foot pressed my chest. Cautiously I looked up her leather-corseted body to the stern face. I winced as the lash trailed across my shuddering skin. "Beg forgiveness, slave!" she ordered. Helpless, I cringed as she frowned at my bound body. Then she winked. The pantomine rehearsal was going well.

**********************

Fifty Word HOM

I slept in our tent cocooned in my sleeping bag. My wife's body slammed across my shoulders, pinning me helpless. Her black-gloved hand wrapped my mouth silent. Silk-clad fingers clamped my nostrils tight. "Look at that bitch again," she hissed "and you stop breathing forever." Breath-starved, I lose consciousness again.

*********************

 

[fieryjen]

I do write flash fiction, and I would definitely make use of this category should it come into existence. They are less conventional "encounters" but more poetic and philosophical, the goal often to create a certain atmosphere or convey a mood. Some of my best work is flash fiction, and I've always been sad there is no way for me to post it here.

So yeah, full support here.

 

[OhMissScarlett]

What if the range was 450 to 749 words? I'm thinking that we could get more than, "I saw her and then I went home and jerked off, because she was so hot."

Or the ever popular, "I kiked down the door and camed in her face."

 

[BlackSnake]

Or the ever popular, "I kiked down the door and camed in her face."

I do like an awesome story with many spelling and grammer errors, over subperbly written junk.

 

[oggbashan]

Source of the immortal words

Or the ever popular, "I kiked down the door and camed in her face."

For those who have not read the wonderful parodies created by the DurtGurl consortium:

DurtGurl's Masterpieces

Og

 

[Rumple Foreskin]

I'd never done any flash fiction until about a year ago. Before then, I thought of it as a gimmick. But I've discovered that trying to compose a complete story (beinning, middle, end) in a limited number of words is good discipline. Trying to convert a scene into a flash fiction story, for instance, often ends up improving the original scene.

Kev said he wanted to see a "good" example of flash fiction. I'm not sure how good the 500 word story I'm posting is, but at least it's an example.

==

PEACE, LIFE, AND MARY BETH (500 words)

The exploding shell sent twenty-four soldiers sprawling. Then came the sound of men cursing and scrambling for better cover. There were no screams of pain.

As he hugged the ground, Sergeant Mike Floyd told himself there were better places to be and things to do. His first choice being the back seat of his car making love to Mary Beth Riser.

He was tired of death; tired of trying to kill unknown men who were doing their best to kill him. He wanted peace, life, and Mary Beth. But an enemy recoilless rifle sitting on a nearby hill was in his way.

Mike got his squad racing across open ground toward the base of the hill. There they formed a skirmish line and began moving up the steep, rocky slope toward the unseen gun position. The heavy brush and small, low trees made it impossible to see more that a few feet ahead. It was a very hairy climb.

Maybe that’s why they got careless after reaching the firing site. It was deserted. The enemy had gone. For the squad, the danger seemed over. They relaxed and instinctively moved closer to talk and check out the scene.

Mike was on the radio when he noticed what the men were doing. With an impatient gesture, he motioned for them to move away. “Don’t cluster fuck. Spread out and watch for….”

He never finished that last command. The ground around them seemed to erupt in noise and death. Tony Doughty, a big, pug-nosed, good-natured guy from Tennessee—so new to the unit he still didn’t have a nickname—had stepped on a booby-trap. His large body performed a macabre, mid-air dance of death as a sheet of flame, laced with white streaks, raced toward Mike. It was the last thing he'd see for months.

When the force of the explosion slammed into him, Mike struggled to stay on his feet. There’d been other explosions and he didn’t want to risk falling onto another booby-trap. Then his knees gave out and he crumpled to the ground.

After spitting out a mouthful of something, he made a quick, unsuccessful search for his rifle. Reaching for his canteen, he discovered his pistol still in its holster. That made him feel better. It was common knowledge the enemy seldom took prisoners. Even when they did, the captives were usually tortured to death.

He remembered to check his body for wounds. There was something warm and wet around his groin. The first pangs of panic passed when he discovered it was only urine, not blood.

The blast had caught him from the waist up. There were tiny pieces of metal and gravel in his arms, chest, and face. Raw powder burns covered his face and he couldn't see.

Even with all those injuries, Mike felt lucky. His war had ended. Tony, maybe others, were dead. He was still alive. Soon he'd be going home; back to life and peace, and Mary Beth.

==

If interested, here's a link to the 1700 word Lit story it was adapted from.

Alive and Going Home

Rumple Foreskin

 

[Stella_Omega]

Flash Fiction, thank you- I 've been infected by the damned term "drabble" which I hate.
here's one, christ- more than ten years ago! ;

I played a song that was sexier than I had intended. I was overtaken by the incohate, inexplicable conviction that somewhere out there my soulmate waited- someone perfectly attuned to my every need, someone so in need of me that every move I made would only be right. Pretty embarrasing when (and perhaps this is part of the feeling) I am about to turn thirty nine. I know damn well that perfection exists. Often. And for two or three minutes at a stretch. What could I do? I turned to my girlfriend and buried myself between her breasts, knocking over my Jack on the rocks in the process.

“What’s the matter with you?” she asked, but I couldn’t explain in a bar. The bartender came over to swab up the mess. “Want another?” she asked, but I figured I’d better not. I saw smoky bodies in a room lit by moon and fire, and one of them was me, and one of them was not the woman I am with. In theory this is okay, but I don’t remember the last time I’ve called on that option.

She called me the next day. “What the hell was that all about?” she wanted to know. “You were acting pretty wierd there. You had me scared, a little.”

“Weell...” I probably sounded a little whiney; “You know I played that song... I sort of fell into lust. With someone that doesn’t exist. I do this once in a while, you know? All I can think of is getting into the car and driving off till I find them. And of course I can’t, I have a family and responsibilities. But the perfect lover is gonna go to someone else, and she won’t ever be perfectly satisfied, either, because she should be with me, and she’s just making do.”

There was a silence. “Does that make sense?” I asked. “I mean, of course it doesn’t make sense, but do you understand what I just said?”

“You have your hubby" she said.

“That’s right” I said.

“And you have me...” she said.

“That’s right.”

“You’re getting tired of me” she said comfortably. “You’re getting ready to put the ad in the personals, aren’t you?”

“And die of exhaustion?”

“You arent going to go out and look for this perfect woman?” She sounded amazed. I snorted.

“Oh, please. Perfection is always a wild goose chase, you know that. And besides... Melissa Etheridge is married.”

I’m getting used to these long silences. “You don’t get Melissa Etheridge” she said at last.

“I know.”

“I get Melissa Etheridge.”

“Honey...”

“Not you.”



*Hmm, that's going into my blog*

 

[SEVERUSMAX]

Sounds like a fun way to brainstorm and get past the writers' block.

 

[Kev H]

*bows to Stella and the Rumple* Thanks for the great examples. Both great stand-alone scenes - and that's the point. I get it now, and think it would be a great addition to the site. (Though one could always argue they see larger stories in each that beg to be told.)

 

[Stella_Omega]

Severus, sometimes it does help! And sometimes, I've cut a few paragraphs from something, but couldn't bear to delete them. Sometimes they can be turned into a flash fic piece.


And, Kev- yes, most of the time a flash fic could be built on, if you wanted.... or, maybe, you just never will...

 

[SEVERUSMAX]

You should SEE some of the shit that I rejected for submission! I suppose that it could also fit into a "Grotesquely Mediocre Stroke Stories" category!