I was chatting with Amy to other day, and she wondered what flash fiction was. Flash fiction is a quick story usually involving one main character. It usually is at least 500 words, but less than 1000 words. This my interpretation of flash fiction. Be kind, I whipped this up this morning.
(image from: http://traxus4420.wordpress.com/2007/10/11/language-as-concealment/)
I could feel someone....someone I didn't know....a stranger. That creepy feeling of being watched. I peeked over my shoulder, no one was there. But the feeling persisted, there....what is that...a shadow! I could feel the stalker, slowly making his way toward me, but still I couldn't catch a glimpse of who it could be. I was starting to get frightened. My nerves were jangling, screaming to run, move, go now! But it was like the world had stopped, my feet glued to the ground. Finally, my feet began to move, I could pull myself away toward the shadows where I would be hidden from the unknown.
As I watched from the darkness, I scanned the crowd surrounding me. Watching for the stranger, the unknown thing that would be looking for me. I thought I was safe here, hidden in the shadows. Still no one appeared. It's my imagination my brain is telling me. I feel foolish, giving into my bizarre fears. There's nothing to be afraid of...and yet I could still feel a watchful presence.
I sneak away from the shadows, trying to blend into the crowd, heading for the safety of home as quick as I can. My hands are shaking, my heart is pounding in my chest, my breathing labored as I hurry, almost running. It's silly, but I'm sure there's someone near. A hand touches my shoulder, I whimper, peeking around at no one. Someone touches me again, this time firmer, moving to the edge of the crowd that is bustling around me. No one else seems to notice.
My mind is racing, trying to figure out what's going on. I want to scream, but I didn't think anyone would hear me. I glance around, and people are starting to move away from me. I don't want to be alone, something is out there, something is coming for me. I try once again to cover my body with the humanity of the crowd. Another brush upon my shoulder.
I turn to face my stalker, trying to pick him out of the crowd, paranoia screaming through my body. I see no one, but I feel something, something fanning down my back. I turn in a circle, still no one appears. Fingers brushing my face, caressing my skin. I feel myself slipping, my heart pounding out a staccato beat. Suddenly, arms surround me, lifting me, keeping me upright. Pulling me back to the shadows that I thought were my friends.
Lips on mine, demanding a response. My body is a traitor, responding frantically to the kiss, seeming to know my unknown lover. Seeking to deepen and return the unknown desire. Hands moving over and around me, swirling with a need. I respond to that need with one of my own. I open my eyes to see my heart's one desire, the lover who visits my dreams. Only, I'm not dreaming and still he's here, brought to life.
I pulled his head down to my lips, my hands sliding through his silken locks, drinking deeply, as a groan starts down low in the core of my being, slipping up past my lips and into his. The response is immediate with a growl of his own, his body pushing against mine with need. His mouth on mine, sipping sweetly at my lips. Demanding and giving, and suddenly gone. The stranger has left me alone and bereaved. Quivering with desire to be unquenched. Name unknown, reality again.
Flash fiction needs to tell a complete story with a beginning, middle, and ending. It expresses everything any short story should, but with a limited word count and for one character. I've only tried this a few times, but it's fun.