Friday, March 27, 2015

Flash Fiction Friday: The Book of Things

Today's prompt was a text prompt:

"I think I've been dead since '98."

And my response:

I think I’ve been dead since ’98.

Oh, that was also the year I was born, actually. Keep forgetting that. The thing about dying and living at the same time is that it’s often hard to keep things straight, so I write most things in a little leather-bound notebook I keep on my person. Appropriately, it has “Things” embossed on the front. If you don’t mind, I’ll write your name in here—not that I’m calling you a “thing”, per see (humans get so touchy about labels. That observation, by the way, is Thing #24), but you’ll understand that it’s just to be concise. Alright? Good. 


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Ginny Romney -

Friday, March 20, 2015

Flash Fiction Friday - Butterfly Issues

Since I keep losing track of weeks, I decided to give up labeling them and call each week after the title of my story.

The winter had been long and dull, and this walk was my first since the blizzarding stopped. Suddenly, there came in the sky a butterfly, blue and black and beautiful. I chased it through the wood, never caring about where it was taking me or why.

It found a house and darted inside—I followed suit. The hallway was filled with hundreds of butterflies, all nestling on the walls. They seemed to sense that there was a foreign thing among them. Suddenly, they all left their wall in a tornado of color. They smothered me.

I died. Not for the first time, and probably not for the last—but may I just say, it was the prettiest death I’ve ever died. 

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Ginny Romney -

Friday, January 9, 2015

Flash Fiction Friday: Week 5

On time! *victory dance* 
This one is actually based on some characters I'm working with right now. 

“Why won’t you talk to me?” I asked, turning on him in the hallway. He paused in his walk. “I’m tired of a glare being my only response when I ask you a serious question.”

“You don’t know anything about me, and I intend to keep it that way,” he replied crisply, and started walking again. I held out my hand and pressed it into his chest to keep him where he was.

“If we’re going to work on this together, you’re going to have to trust me,” I said. He smirked.

“I don’t think so. As of yet, you don’t even know my real name.”


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Sunday, January 4, 2015

Flash Fiction Friday: Week 4

Yep, I'm late...story of my blogging life! But I really enjoyed writing this one. :D

“Drop the gun,” I told her. “I’ll give you what you want. I promise.”

“You’re a liar. You got it from your father,” she said accusingly. I could see the beginnings of tears forming in her eyes.

I slowly opened my bag and showed her the contents, strewn about in no sort of order. Her eyes grew wide when she beheld the coveted item.

“It’s the blue jar,” she said. I picked it up gingerly and put it into her cold hand. She kept the gun pointed at me until she had turned the corner, disappearing into the night. 


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Friday, December 26, 2014

Flash Fiction Friday: Week 3

I closed my eyes as I felt her sweep beside me. Her train was long. Her steps were as sure as her hatred. I took in a breath, hoping that it wasn’t going to be my last. The lights were bright through my eyelids, until suddenly they weren’t anymore. I opened my eyes, and saw that the room had gone entirely dark. I couldn’t see her anymore.

But she could see me.

I was above begging, wasn’t I?

You certainly are, idiot, said a voice inside my head that was not my own. My heartbeat quickened, but this time it was from relief instead of fear.

My brother had come to save me. 


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Ginny Romney -

Friday, December 19, 2014

Flash Fiction Friday: Week 2

Good day! I've decided to revive this blog for the purpose of a fun new challenge I'm taking part in: Flash Fiction Friday! Today's prompt is...

He rushed into the room with the vial in his hands. She looked up from her papers.

“What’s that?” she asked.

“Impulse buy,” he said, grinning. “I thought you might like it.”

“I don’t take black market potions,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Unlike some of us.”

“That was an honest mistake, and I was only purple for two hours.”

“You’re forgetting that was the day you had to meet your girlfriend’s parents. I’m telling you, dabbling in this is dangerous. Humans aren’t supposed to drink witch brews. It’s in the manual.”

“I can’t read,” he said, before downing the contents of the vial in one gulp.  

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Ginny Romney -