Flash Fic Challenge: Burning Hype

 Burning Hype

“Well?” Janine asked as her friend Iz surfaced from the preliminary hack. “Are we still on for tonight?”

Iz grinned, chome-capped teeth glinting in the light from the screen. “Janine, sweetie, I could drive a trolley-bus in a moldy wig through some of the holes in their security. How's the rest of it going?”

Janine grinned back and pressed a kiss to Iz's temple, next to the implant that let her love dance through cyber space so easily. “All done and waiting for your end to finish.” She fanned the paperwork for their new identies.

Iz laughed. “Hype-boy fell for his own corp's hype, which means he believes his AI when it says everything's secure. And the AI believes me when I tell it I'm meant to be there.” Her eyes glazed a little as she drifted back into cyberspace, dancing through the webs to change their official genders to what they should always have been.

Flash Fic Challenge: Pink Tires

 Pink Tires

Two men lounging in the zero g section of the station bar signalled the bartender for another round. One had his feet tucked under the foot hold and was floating more or less upright. The other had an arm looped through a higher hold and was lying along the bright pink wall.

The bartender tossed a pair of drinking bulbs in their direction and added the cost to their tab.

The upright man snagged the drinks out of the air and passed one over. “You were saying that the colour in here is in honour of the original owner? Is the name The Spare Tire a reflection on that too?”

“Nah, Lily was a clever lass, but the new owner wanted a new name.” The wall man gave a wry grin, and waved a hand languidly enough that the reaction didn't do much but make him undulate slightly. “My suggestion, actually. This space station is shaped like a wheel after all, and the bar is on the rim of it.”

The upright man smirked over his floating drink. “And is that the only spare tire you were thinking of, dear?” he asked, lacing his fingers over his paunch.

The wall man reddened, “You know very well how much I like yours.”

“I do know.” The upright man leaned forward and pecked the wall man's cheek lightly. “But I like to hear you say it.”

“Bastard,” he muttered fondly, and drained his bulb.

“Your bastard. And you know it, you incorrigible flirt.”

“Comes with the job. Just enjoy having the place named for you, and don't tell them. Not like you don't have other places like that, is it.”

“True, true.” The upright man sipped his own drink as a sound made them both look over at the bar. “Oh dear,” he said. “I do believe they're about to start bellowing the old anthem. Shall we...?”

“Yes, lets.” The wall man swiped a card over the nearest pay point to cover the tab, and they both pushed off towards the exit hatch, escaping through it just as the bar-wide rendition of Lily the Pink erupted behind them.

Flash Fic Challenge: Flames of Young Love

 Flames of Young Love

 

The old, abandoned, olympic stadium burned down on a bright, sunny, summer day, after a week of rain. Nobody was there to see it catch fire. Everyone was talking about it.

And Nobody knew how it was done.

It was a nine-day mystery among the townsfolk, talked over, wondered over, and discussed to death before the news broke that the rich young daughter of the mayor had run away with a vagabond girl.

But the two girls, when they heard the tale, only looked at each other and smiled, for they had placed a crystal ball in the middle of the stadium a week (a rainy week) before as a distraction to help them escape. And crystal balls, like magnifying glasses, are excellent at focusing sunlight so hard that it becomes flame.

Have you seen the future? We believe it ends in fire....!

 

Flash Fic Challenge: Having a Ball

 Having a Ball

If height was a competition, the Empire State Building was doing quite well. Ella knew every cranny of every floor, with the fine detail of someone who has to clean those floors every day. She knew booking times and events too, since she was kept informed of when and where she could do it, and there was a costume ball happening on one of the observatory floors.

When her father was alive, he'd told her that she could have a party up there some day, birthday or otherwise. These days, Ella just thought it would be a nice dream, the sort you hold onto as you wake, but not anything that would ever come true.

But. There was to be a ball. During her work hours. In her place of work, so her stepmother couldn't keep her out. And she had always enjoyed dancing. If she could find something to wear, she could go for a few hours, slip away at midnight, and still (if she worked fast) get everything done before the office workers and the rest of the day shift arrived.

Her godmother Bobbi came up trumps with a dress - a blue and silver thing that Ella could slip on and off in under five minutes. She hid it in her workbag and practised looking miserable when her stepsisters bragged about going to the ball and dancing with everyone.

*

Nobody noticed when an uninvited guest slipped into the ball through a side door, next to the buffet holding plates of canapes and tiny bowls of jelly.

Some people noticed when one of the richest and most influential young men spent all his time dancing with a young woman in blue and silver.

Everyone noticed when the woman suddenly stopped mid-dance as the clock chimed and fled right through the ball and into the lifts.

But by the time the security time had raced down the stairs to intercept her, all they found was a single silver shoe abandoned in the middle of the lift, and a janitor in grubby overalls mopping the floor.

 

Flash Fic Challenge: Come Play With Me

 Come Play With Me

The hall stands cold and empty now.

The tables all lie bare.

Yet still across the darkness colours flare -

Ghosts of games long gone.

Bright baize faded down to grey.

Glass shards upon the floor.

Yet still, I tell you, there is more -

The cues and clues remain.

The knives that shaped these broken cues

Have crumbled to rust-red grime.

Mould creeps up walls like frosty rime

But the bones of the hall still stand.

For it is with blood and with bone

That all the ghosts now play.

Balls made from blood across the table spray,

Sent flying by cues carved from bone.

(We make our own,

We break our own,

We bind and bleed

And take our own)

The hall stands cold and darkened now.

The tables all lie bare...

Won't you play a game with me?

You, who entered on a dare?

Flash Fic Challenge: Dancing With Pride

 Dancing with Pride

 

The Company store, on the edge of the Company's shuttlefield, was restocked at the Company's convenience, which meant rarely to never. The only bright things in the windows were the regular posters for the management elections. Immaculately dressed people staring superciliously at the passing colonists as if to remind them that they too belonged to the Company.

Ky huffed every time xie passed the store on the way to work and muttered at the posters, "Not my circus, not my monkeys." Since xer home was on one side of the shuttlefield and xer workplace was on the other, that meant two glares and mutters a day. Still, it also meant that xie was usually one of the first people to see when the store had been restocked, which would have been more useful if the store ever stocked anything she both wanted and could afford.

Since the store was so rarely stocked, xie and the other colonists dumped on this planet to work for the Company had learned to barter and trade with each other for anything they actually needed.

But today wasn't for the Company. Today was for the people themselves. Everyone turned out for it, dancing in the street in their brightest clothes, the crystals braided into their hair flashing rainbows onto every surface, old songs and chants on their lips.

Not gay as in happy! Queer as in Fuck You!!

Flash Fic Challenge: Behind Closed Doors

 Behind Closed Doors

The saloon building might be called The Palace, and it might house a handful of old queens, but it was about as far from royalty as a cow's backside.

This early in the morning, the saloon itself was empty, the doors closed (but not locked) and Anna took the chance to sweep the dirt back out into the dusty street, wipe down the tables and collect the scattering of abandoned mugs and glasses. When she had a trayful she took them back through the serving door to the kitchen and handed them over to the scullion for washing.

The kitchen was loud and busy, a sharp contrast to the bar. A cluster of dancers were breakfasting on coffee and biscuits around a table and exchanging gossip about last night's customers. The stoves were blazing, more biscuits coming out of the ovens and bread for the noon meal going in. Beans set to soak yesterday were being rinsed off and set to simmer, and new crocks of beans set to soak for tomorrow. A meat cleaver thwacked steadily, cutting thin slices off a side of bacon, ready for frying.

Anna set down her tray, and wove her way through the chaos to the back door with practiced ease, sidestepping the old folding chair that the one-legged head cook directed the kitchen from and ducking out into the yard just as the delivery cart arrived.

The cart driver was copper-haired Josie, broad as a barn door, twice as sturdy, and holder of Anna's heart. They never had time on working mornings like these for more than a smile and a quick greeting, but Anna liked to watch Josie's muscles flex as she swung the various sacks, bags, and barrels of food down from the cart. She also liked to think Josie got her own good view when it was Anna's turn to haul the goods inside.

Josie set the last bag of onions at Anna's feet and hopped back up into the cart. “Tonight,” she promised, and flicked the reins.

“Tonight,” Anna echoed in reply and farewell, and stooped back to her work.

Flash Fic Challenge: A Pack of Lies

 A Pack of Lies

 

The pack of greyhounds and lurchers milled around Danny's van, all legs and bright eyes, with their eager heads at hip height. He patted backs and scratched ears, and checked them over, before setting up a basket of toys and bowls of water. Once down, he turned to survey the dog-racing-track surroundings.

Other dogs were visible through the crowd of owners, punters, and bookies. The track itself looked in good condition, neither too hard or too muddy, and the people looked as if they all had money to spend. It was going to be a good day.

When the races began, Danny was ready. He placed a few bets with the bookies, like any other owner or trainer, he prepared the dogs that were in each race and led them to their starting gate, he tossed loose items back into the basket of toys.

When the favourite - a steel-grey greyhound appropriately named Old Leg Irons - lost, Danny's dog came third and he picked up placement winnings on top of his usual earnings.

Of course, he never knew exactly how much he had earned until he got home and could empty the stolen wallets now hidden in the basket of dog toys.

Fat wallets, commonly tucked into hip pockets, at exactly the right height for one of his smart dogs to pickpocket, and drop their new 'toy' into the basket.

Danny grinned at his pack, all long legs, lolling tongues, and innocent eyes. “Good dogs,” he murmured, stacking the notes neatly. “Every one of you.”

Flash Fic Challenge: Moonrise

 Moonrise

“Half an hour to moonrise,” Danny yelled over the music blasting from the speakers. “Time to park up!”

 

Tom craned his neck and checked all the mirrors. There was nothing but dusty road and dustier outback for miles around, so he simply pulled over and parked the truck on the side of the road. Slim Dusty's Dieseline Dreams cut off with the engine, leaving only silence.

 

Danny and Tom both hopped out. Danny shucked off his shirt and tossed it back into the truck cabin along with his shoes. Tom was quick to follow suit, and then, in only loose shorts, they locked the truck up and moved a few paces clear, faces turned to the eastern sky.

 

The moon rose, and everything changed.

 

When the dust settled again, two wolves stood where the men had been, having squirmed out of the shorts in the change.

 

Danny play-bowed.

 

Tom pounced, and the two werewolves went rolling, running, and playing into the night, tongues lolling out in silent laughter.

Flash Fic Challenge: Still Here

 Still Here

Samuel handed his spare gragger to a small child that didn't have one yet and squashed himself onto the horsehair sofa next to Ben. “Ready to raise some noise?”

Ben laughed and flung an arm over Samuel's shoulders. “Always. You know me so well.”

Samuel grinned back. “It wouldn't be the same without you.”

In the quieter parts of the reading, you could hear the faint rattle of hansom cabs passing outside, and the clatter of hooves from the horses that pulled them. In the louder parts, by tradition, you couldn't hear anything but the swinging of the gragger noisemakers, the booing and stamping, and banging of hands against tables.

It could have been a thousand years ago, or a thousand years hence, Samuel thought, looking round the men's side. Greybeard elders and sturdy fathers, young men and boys, all as loud and enthusiastic, coming together as ever for Purim, drowing out the name of a small, petty, vindictive man who wanted them all dead because they wouldn't bow to him.

In a world where they had always been hated and perhaps always would be, defiance sounded like laughter, like joy, like celebration. We are still here, we are still here, we will not go away.

Hate us, hunt us, blame us, despise us, we still make time to BE us.

Samuel stamped his feet and swung his gragger and leaned into Ben's warm shoulder, looking forward to the hamantaschen later, because as the old saying went:

They tried to kill us. We survived. Let's eat.

Flash Fic Challenge: Getting a Clue

 Getting a Clue

“Tell me a story!” Katie begged, folding her hands under her chin.

Angela laughed. “So there was this man,” she began, as she set up the board for another game of Cluedo, “and he finds out he has a son, who was adopted out at birth. So he decides that he wants to get to him...”

Katie nodded.

“But then,” Angela continued, “he finds that the boy who he thought was his son was switched at birth in the hospital, and his real son is actually not the boy that he thought was his son.”

Katie nodded, and picked up her cards.

“So he's trying to find out where his actual son is, and who he is, and while he's doing that, he has to deal with several other people also trying to find his real son.”

Katie nodded as they began to play.

“So he keeps searching and then he thinks he's finally found the right boy at last, but so has everyone else that was looking for him and they all descend on the same small village at once to meet the boy.”

Katie nodded. “And then?”

Angela cackled and slapped her cards down beside the board. “It was Dr Shaggy Dog, in the Line Outside the Theatre, with the Bottle of Poison.” She looked at Katie. “Oh, with the boy? He told them all to buzz off so he could play with his friends.”