Prompt#40

Prompt#40

Written by: FlashFiction

Current prompt till 1st Feb is:

OffLimits

(Photo Credits: Three)

New here? Please visit this: A NEW HOPE. You can also post on any of the earlier prompts. Just mention which Prompt you are writing for at the beginning of your post, so that I can attach appropriate thumbnail pic.

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January 17, 2012 Posted Under: Announcements, Featured   Comments

Behind the Post

Written by: BandE

Interview with Dwight Oswald Twistleton,  model featured in latest Prompt, “Off Limits”,  pictured above.

How did your modeling career in this unique genre begin?

I wanted to be an actor from a very early age. Unfortunately, I was told that my expressions were so one-dimensional , that I could never be believeable in any part.  I was offered a chance to be a crash test dummy and worked steadily for several years till I was injured in a freak air bag accident.

I suppose that gave you pause?

Dang right!  Gave me a big headache too. Took ‘em a week to get my head back on straight.  During my recuperation I heard that sign models were in demand. Sounded like a piece ‘o cake.  That summer, I broke out with a “No Diving” sign. Everyone said I looked really cute in my Speedo.

I notice that your left profile is always featured in your work. Any reason?

Well, obviously it’s my best side. In fact, truth be told, it’s my only side since that nasty air bag incident.

Ouch! Well, anyway, do you have a favorite sign that you were featured on? Something really memorable?

“Slippery When Wet” without a doubt. Shot that one in Thailand. Boy. It was so hot there that the soapsuds kept drying on my body.  So they brought in a couple of pros who kept  soaping me up till the director got what he wanted.  Nice ladies though. Couldn’t understand a word they said, ‘cept something about “happy endings”.

I notice you always wear black when you work. Any reason?

My friend, Johnny Cash, told me to do it. Said it always gave a guy presence-suggested a bad boy sort of image. ‘Specially when you do something like a”Toilet” sign. Don’t want nobody messin’ with you while you’re standing there next to the sign.

Anything special coming up for 2012?

Well, speaking of up, I’ve got an escalator job in the works. It’ll show me in profile, natch, riding down on an escalator, so these mall morons don’t try to go up on the wrong one. You should also be looking for a special signed, limited edition of “Pedestrian Crosswalk” the Department of Transportation is having me do. It’s going to have an Abbey Road kind of vibe to it, ‘ cept it’s just me in place of the Fab Four. The back of each sign will be stamped DOT, so I’m hoping everybody will think those are my initials.

Time’s up now, Dwight. Any parting advice for those who read this drivel to the very end?

Like my bosom bud Madonna said to me, get out there and strike a pose!

January 25, 2012mail Posted Under: Flash Fiction   Comments
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OFF LIMITS

OFF LIMITS

Written by: THREE

[a.k.a. Celestial Lessons 002, a stand-alone narrative]

Another morning. Another day. I have to face it. Face her.

As I walk slowly towards the bedroom – her bedroom – I curse myself silently, at my accelerating heartbeat. It was actually louder than my footsteps. She might’ve woken up already, because of that, if not for the smell of her favourite morning coffee, bacon and eggs in the air.

Maybe it was the coffee. Have to stop taking coffee before seeing her.

OFF LIMITS. Read the sign on her door. A warning to me, I feel. Every morning. Do I heed it?

I don’t even bother to knock anymore. She couldn’t care less anyway. College life does that to you, I guess. I turn the knob and enter into a mess of a world, her world, clothes and bags, all over the floor, books and bras…

And there she lay. On the bed. Made for a queen. Tangled up in a heap of pink blankets, sprawled like a lazy cat, thick blonde hair covering her face, bare long legs dangling off the edge…

Curses.

At least she could’ve worn some clothes.

“No…” she groans, groggily, through the golden mane hiding her beautiful face, muffling her soft, husky voice. “Please tell me it’s not time already.”

“I can’t lie to you,” I lie, “you’ve got a seminar presentation this morning.”

“You’d make a terrible roommate, Kieran,” she replies, slowly getting up, folding her lithe catlike body into a sitting position, hair magically parting, emerald green eyes shining through, right through me like a laser beam – I have a thing for piercing green peepers – blanket strategically covering all that was needed to be revealed.

It was just pure torture. Just watching her. Skin the colour of peach glistening in the sliver of the morning sun rays sneaking through the curtains. Such a celestial body. Even the sun wants to take a peek at her, to wake her up, to touch her. What more a lowly being like me?

“I wouldn’t be your roommate even if you begged me to,” I lie again.

She smiles ever so lightly. Another laser beam shot right through me. I think she knew.

“I would’ve stayed at my dorm, if everyone there wasn’t trying to brutally murder me,” she explains, in that groggy intoxicating half-whisper, threatening to rip me apart, and those bedroom eyes, threatening to incinerate me with their laser power.

More excuses. The things I have to put up with.

Calm down now. Breathe. Keep your distance. Stay detached.

“Once more, your breakfast is made ready by yours truly…” I say as she flashes another smile, a brilliant one this time, more brilliant than the sun. It was only gratitude. And I just lose the words, whatever it is I was saying just now.

Stop this. Now.

One last look – I always keep vowing to never look at her this way again – and keep breaking that vow, every morning – I turn my eyes away from her beautiful face, as I say, “Mom’s gone like a ghost again. To work, I think. I’m gonna have to rush off, too. Got a killer Physics exam.”

Turning, walking away from her door, I hear her soft voice fading off, “Good luck, brother…”

I wish she could just stop calling me that.

[Also see: Celestial Lessons 001]

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January 20, 2012profile Posted Under: Flash Fiction   Comments
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Santa Mob

Santa Mob

Written by: FlashFiction

 

Posts on this prompt:

The End of Santa? by LLGibson

BeachNicks by BandE

Post not-on-prompt:

My Lamprophony by Helene Myko

Continue reading
January 17, 2012 Posted Under: Announcements, Featured   Comments

The End of Santa?

The End of Santa?

Written by: LLGibson

 

The crashing of the waves on the rocky shore sounded like thunder. It was early morning and the gray mist was losing to the rising sun as the distant sky became tinged with pinks and purples. As each wave rose to its peak the white maelstrom of the raging sea spoke of the power of the hidden depths. The icy cold water enveloped each of them as they struggled to shore. Many had been lost in the crash. The few that remained knew their quest was over. It had been a noble quest of course, but now it… Continue reading

January 10, 2012 Posted Under: Flash Fiction   Comments

BeachNicks

BeachNicks

Written by: BandE

Did you ever wonder what happens to all those guys in red suits with white trim you see in department stores, malls and other public spaces come December 26th? Few people know that these guys are unionized. That’s right, they all belong to Santa Claus Reenactors of the World or SCREW. Further, Clause 17 of their contracts [no pun intended] requires that  they be given a week off every year at a very warm beach of their choice.

This year their unanimous vote for a vacation destination was Juhu Beach in Mumbai. No foolin’! The above picture proves it. Here we see Stan… Continue reading

January 6, 2012mail Posted Under: Flash Fiction   Comments
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My Lamprophony

Written by: Helene Myko

Why do people watch television?
Not only does it worsen their vision,
But rottens their minds
And fattens their behinds.
Pre-recorded images flash before their eyes
Without time to think, they are gullible to lies.
Someone else’s worthless job it is
To put inside a vacant skull some entertainment that ain’t his,
To fill a space with virtual relations living in a box
Dissolving one by one the mind’s building blocks.
A human turns to shadow, relying on machines
For some emotional stability and dreams.
Grows weak from using only thumbs
To surf through channels while laying in crumbs,
Becoming… Continue reading

January 3, 2012profile Posted Under: Poetry   Comments
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Prompt#39

Prompt#39

Written by: FlashFiction

A VERY HAPPY NEW YR TO ALL YOU AWESOME FOLKS!

Current prompt till 15th January is:

SantasOnABeach

(Photo Credits: Tuareq)

New here? Please visit this: A NEW HOPE. You can also post on any of the earlier prompts. Just mention which Prompt you are writing for at the beginning of your post, so that I can attach appropriate thumbnail pic.

Continue reading
January 2, 2012 Posted Under: Announcements   Comments
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