Tag / flash fiction month 2025

by booksoverlookedblog

FFM 21: Waggle Dance

Without in any way limiting the author’s exclusive rights under copyright, any use of this publication to “train” generative artificial intelligence (AI) technologies to generate text is expressly prohibited. The author reserves all rights to license uses of this work for generative AI training and development of machine learning language models.

July is Flash Fiction Month! I’ll be sharing short short stories here through the month of July. This is a companion story to FFM 11: OPERATION HIVEBREAKER, but you don’t need to have read it to understand this one. More notes at the end of the story.

The Apidaar were a lost people. It was nearly sixty years after the Colony Collapse, and it seemed their society would never recover. With no queen to follow, the Apidaar had lost their instincts, and for some, their minds.

Z’lkne was in the second generation of Apidaar hatched off-planet. He was ten years old, a third of his way through his life cycle. Before Colony Collapse, he would have been assigned one of two roles in his society: scout or breeding male. This choice would not have been his. It was written in his genetic code, unalterable. 

But he, and so many other Apidaar, had never known the influence of a queen. Many of his kind went mad without their purpose, flying until exhaustion overcame them or refusing to eat or drink until they perished. Others formed swarms, declaring they would search the stars and find their queens again. Even more fell into drink, destroying their bodies and minds until they had drowned entirely. 

Z’lkne was one of the few who did not. He danced. 

He didn’t understand why mammalian humanoids considered this a shame. Many of them, especially the females, made a good living by shedding their fabricated exoskeletons in time to the beat. Z’lkne didn’t understand what was so exciting about that. The naked body of one person was quite similar to the naked body of another, provided they were members of the same species. 

Z’lkne only wore his natural exoskeleton, yet drew in large audiences nightly. He premiered at Freak Night, the weekly event where native species came to gawk at the bodies of aliens to their planet. Z’lkne’s popularity grew, and he soon became a nightly attraction. 

The lights shone against his exoskeleton and stripes. The veins in his wings lit up with fluorescent hues. Z’lkne danced. He didn’t practice choreographed routines. He just felt the music’s vibrations in every hair on his body, and moved as it told him. Two, four, or six legs on the floor or moving through the air, it didn’t matter. 

His dances entranced. They made crowds gasp, or weep, or bounce in time and scream for more. They were not always graceful or pretty dances. Some were brutal, angry and ugly. They all captured something in the audience, something deep within them that they could not express.

When Z’lkne danced, the crowd moved as one, hearts and lungs all pulsating in time to the beat. 

When he danced, he had a colony.

How stories change over time: I had planned on Z’lkne being some kind of researcher or meeting an anthropologist and learning about his planet’s history. Then as I was writing it, he became a bee stripper (striper?) instead.

Anyway, here’s my weirdest “I swear it’s for research” Google search to date:

Spotify does not have a playlist called “Songs for Bees to Strip To” (yet!), so I would like to offer this alternative:

by booksoverlookedblog

FFM 20: After the Miracle

Without in any way limiting the author’s exclusive rights under copyright, any use of this publication to “train” generative artificial intelligence (AI) technologies to generate text is expressly prohibited. The author reserves all rights to license uses of this work for generative AI training and development of machine learning language models.

July is Flash Fiction Month! I’ll be sharing short short stories here through the month of July.

“Is she watching K-dramas without subtitles?”

“Yeah, gift of tongues.”

“Like, Biblical gift of tongues? Holy Spirit, tongues of flame over your head, that kind of thing?”

“Something like that. It was pretty sweet.”

“Isn’t she supposed to be preaching or something?”

“Well, she’s an atheist.”

“Even after the flaming tongues?!”

“Oh, right. I forgot. She’s agnostic now. ‘Cause of the miracle.”

“So it was a miracle.”

“Yep.”

“She can understand and speak in every language.”

“Yeah.”

“And she uses the most practical superpower to watch K-dramas without subtitles.”

“Wouldn’t you?”

“…yeah. I probably would.”

by booksoverlookedblog

FFM 19: In the Neighborhood

Without in any way limiting the author’s exclusive rights under copyright, any use of this publication to “train” generative artificial intelligence (AI) technologies to generate text is expressly prohibited. The author reserves all rights to license uses of this work for generative AI training and development of machine learning language models.

July is Flash Fiction Month! I’ll be sharing short short stories here through the month of July. More notes at the end of the story.

It’s not a nice neighborhood. Even so, I try to do some good. I can help my neighbor with her car. Or deliver misplaced mail, it’s not too far. Things around here can get rough. I try to help us hang tough. But there’s something we all say: at least we don’t have an HOA.

Today’s challenge: Brevity Schmevity

Element 1: Your story today must be exactly 55 words.

Element 2: You must have a pair of rhyming lines somewhere within your story. By “rhyming lines”, we mean a pair of sentences or phrases of at least three words each (preferably with the same amount of words), in which the last words rhyme with each other. It is up to you to choose how to incorporate these lines into your story.

by booksoverlookedblog

FFM 18: The Goddess in the River

Without in any way limiting the author’s exclusive rights under copyright, any use of this publication to “train” generative artificial intelligence (AI) technologies to generate text is expressly prohibited. The author reserves all rights to license uses of this work for generative AI training and development of machine learning language models.

July is Flash Fiction Month! I’ll be sharing short short stories here through the month of July. More notes at the end of the story.

The air wasn’t as frigid as Rosalie thought it would be, but there was a sharpness to it. A wildness that was rarely found in the human world. The two women stood in a Carpathian mountain valley, the only mostly-human souls around. Green was starting to emerge from underneath the snow that had yet to melt away, but it would still be weeks before the wildflowers would bloom. “She’s here. If she’s anywhere, she’s here.” 

“That way.” Gráinne pointed to a spot where the snow had melted into a silver river. The rapid water splashed up on the banks, as though calling Gráinne and Rosalie to its edges. 

Rosalie looked over at Gráinne with wide eyes. “Can you…”

“I can try to call her. But she may not respond.” 

Rosalie nodded. “I know.” 

The young women knelt beside the water, never minding the mud and cold that seeped through their jeans. Gráinne dipped her hand into the icy water. She released her magic into the river, a soft moss green momentarily coloring the waters

The water flowed around Gráinne’s wrist, unchanged. They waited. Nothing. 

“Rose, I’m sorry. But she won’t come for me.” 

“It’s okay,” Rosalie said softly. 

But it wasn’t okay. Gráinne was next in line to the throne of Tír na nÓg. If even she couldn’t reach the goddess, there was no way Rosalie would be able to, either. 

Gráinne sighed and stood up. “Maybe we could make an offering?”

Rosalie didn’t move. “I don’t think a willing sacrifice is just gonna appear.” She trailed her fingertips along the edge of the water. 

“Please.” Rosalie trailed her fingers over the clear water. Tears pooled in her eyes. “I’m not asking for much. Just a conversation.” 

A tear slipped down Rosalie’s cheek and fell into the water. 

The water stilled. Ripples spread outward, reaching across to the opposite bank. 

Rosalie held her breath. Light glittered off the surface of the water. It wasn’t sunlight – too cloudy for that – but came from underneath. 

The sparkles coalesced around Rosalie’s fingertips. They expanded, forming a face. It was neither old nor young, but her features were soft and kind. 

Rosalie exhaled. “Great-grandmother.” 

The face disappeared in a whirlpool. Rosalie let out a small cry. 

“Moya pravnuchka,” a voice like springwater rolling over pebbles said. Rosalie looked up. 

Berehynia stood in front of her, smiling down at the young woman. Rosalie didn’t speak Ukranianian, but she understood. My great-granddaughter. 

Rosalie got to her feet. She had waited for this moment for years, but now she didn’t know what to say. She didn’t know what she wanted from this nature goddess, except to have Berehynia acknowledge her. 

Berehynia spoke first. “You are lovely.” 

Rosalie swallowed. “So are you.” 

“Your grandmother left this land long ago. Why are you here now?” 

Rosalie looked back at Gráinne for reassurance. Gráinne nodded and walked away to give them some privacy. 

“I wanted to meet you. And I hope that you want to meet me.” 

“I wouldn’t have come if I didn’t want to meet you.” She brushed her delicate fingers over Rosalie’s cheek. “I have had many daughters, but your father was my first grandson. You are my first, and only, great-granddaughter.” 

Rosalie blinked, surprised. “‘Only?’”

Berehynia nodded. “Very few of my daughters have ever had children. But your grandmother was strong. She knew what she wanted, and she crossed the sea to have the life she dreamed of.” The goddess smiled. She wasn’t upset with her rebellious daughter. “Yet you’ve crossed it again, in the other direction.” 

“I…” Rosalie rubbed her hands on her thighs, her nervous quirk. “I thought if I met you, I might…understand myself better.”

“And do you?” Berehynia asked. 

“I don’t know,” Rosalie admitted. 

“You’re scared about your future, and the future of this world.” 

Something came loose in Rosalie. She started to burble everything out: wars, nuclear fallout, Agent Orange, the conflict in the Otherworld, how she had magic but not really, not in a powerful way that mattered. She talked about the boys in her classes and even some of her professors looked at her, like she wasn’t supposed to be there. Like she wasn’t just as smart and talented as they were. She talked about her dad and all the ways they didn’t understand each other anymore. When Rosalie finished, Berehynia was wiping away her great-granddaughter’s tears. 

“You are like me, malenʹka troyanda. You care until it hurts.” Berehynia took Rosalie’s hands in hers. “It is your weakness, and your strength.” 

Berehynia tucked a strand of Rosalie’s dark hair behind her ear. “You have so much compassion, little rose. Spare some for yourself.” 

Rosalie’s eyes watered again, for entirely different reasons. “Thank you, Great-Grandmother.” 

“I cannot be the mother you’re looking for,” Berehynia said. She looked toward Gráinne, standing at a distance. “But blood is not the only thing that makes a family. That girl is your friend, but she’s also your family, isn’t she?” 

Rosalie nodded. “Our parents are best friends. We call ourselves cousins.” 

“Good. Hold on to that. As for the rest…” Berehynia sighed, and it was the sigh of wind through the trees. “I feel your fears for this planet, too.” Berehynia spun, and her pale hair whirled around her. Colors appeared, green and purple tinged with brown, the dead rainbows of gasoline puddles. 

“No single person can heal the world. It takes many, many healers. You are one. You do not work alone, and you never will.” Berehynia held Rosalie’s face in her hands one last time. “I will not always be able to talk with you like this, but I carry you in my heart, little rose.” 

Berehynia kissed Rosalie’s forehead. When Rosalie opened her eyes, the goddess was gone. An otter stared at her from the riverbank, then dove under the water, and disappeared. 

After a silent moment, Rosalie went back to Gráinne. 

“Well?” Gráinne asked. 

Rosalie swiped at her eyes. “Thanks for bringing me, cos. I got what I needed.”

Oof, this was another one that initially clocked in at over 1000 words. Got it down to 999, though!

Rosalie and Gráinne are, once again, characters from my WIP novel. Rosalie is the “helper” character to Puck, Gráinne’s younger brother.

Berehynia (aka Bereginya) is a supernatural Slavic being. She’s often referred to as a goddess of nature and protection, but other sources describe her as a nature spirit.

More stories set in this universe:

FFM 3: Love is a Battlefield
FFM 8: Queen of Nothing
FFM 15: It’s Not Rocket Science

by booksoverlookedblog

FFM 17: Cleanup Crew

Without in any way limiting the author’s exclusive rights under copyright, any use of this publication to “train” generative artificial intelligence (AI) technologies to generate text is expressly prohibited. The author reserves all rights to license uses of this work for generative AI training and development of machine learning language models.

July is Flash Fiction Month! I’ll be sharing short short stories here through the month of July. In this story, Fen uses e/em/eir (Spivak) pronouns. More notes at the end of the story.

Low Earth Orbit Cleanup attracted certain type of people to the job. A lot of them were people like Angeles and Hiro, recently graduated and looking to beef up their resumes before going to find “real” jobs in space. Or people like Nox, who’d made it their career, because they had nothing going on down on Earth.

Then there were people like Fen, twentysomethings with no degree and no plans. Cleanup was easy work to get into: pass a physical, take a personality test, and get through training. The next thing you knew, you were shot into space and dragging a giant net through the void. 

Fen floated down the short corridor along with eir crewmates. Priya had been on dark shift and headed back to the sleeping quarters from the opposite direction. Everyone had to work dark shift once every six sols, monitoring the ship’s systems while everyone else slept.

There was a lighter mood in the kitchen/dining area that day. There were only thirty sols left before this mission ended and they all had their feet on terra firma once again. “Of course I’m going to re-up,” Nox said between slurps from his protein pouch. “They need to shorten the waiting period between missions. You can see if I’m healthy in six hours on Earth, not six months.” 

Angeles, as always, had something to say. “You know it’s not just about checking to see if you’re healthy. You need to build up bone density again, and then there’s radiation to worry about.” 

“Then what’s the treadmill and shielding for?” Nox grunted. 

Fenn and Hiro exchanged a look. Exchanges like this between Nox and Angeles were common. “What about you, Fen? Gonna re-up?” 

“I dunno,” Fenn replied, opening eir own protein pack. It tasted vaguely of eggs. “I do miss real food, though.” 

“Real food’s overrated.” Nox finished his protein pack, crushed it into a ball, and tossed it into the disposal.

“And who was getting all drooly at the mention of a real steak not too long ago?” Angeles countered. 

“Well…maybe steak’s not overrated,” Nox conceded. 

“Glad we agree on something.” Angeles turned her attention to Fen. “But have you thought about going to university, Fen? I could help you with your application if you wanted.” 

“Or maybe trade school?” Hiro suggested. “You could help make the ships, instead of working on one.” 

Thankfully, the mission commander, Dr. Tetra, glided into the room before Fenn had to answer. “Shift’s schedule’s posted,” she announced. 

Fenn checked eir handheld, which e always kept in one of the pockets of eir skinsuit. E was on inventory for the first four hours of eir shift.

E went to the zone of the ship that was colloquially known as “the dump.” Here, space junk was sorted and stored. Any materials that could be repurposed would be brought back to Earth to be recycle. The rest would be tossed into one of the superdeep boreholes in the polar regions on Earth. 

Fen’s station could seat two comfortably, and a clear wall allowed em to look at the collected trash, if e really wanted. E was still fascinated by it: antennas sticking out of piles and broken bits of solar panels, lost tools that may have been floating in orbit for decades, even paint flecks and the occasional logo of some company or another. It was beautiful and eerie all at the same time. 

Fen reviewed the inventory from the previous sol’s shift, saw no anomalies, then sent the report back to the flagship Kessler I.

Finally, the first net’s worth of junk arrived. This was one of the few areas of the ship that had artificial grav, just for the ease of being able to drop everything from net level on the floor above to inventory level. Once Fen was certain nothing had been missed, e began the scanner. 

A green light fell over the pile, and tiny bots picked it apart to get more accurate readings. Fen watched the data fill up eir screen. 

ITEM: PAINT CHIP
STATUS: UNSALVAGABLE
ITEM: M086 SATELLITE PANEL (PARTIAL)
STATUS: SALVAGABLE
ITEM: ANOMALY
ITEM: UPPER-STAGE ROCKET DEBRIS (UNKNOWN ORIGIN)
STATUS: SALVAGABLE

Fen blinked. Anomaly? E paused the scan. Almost a year doing this, and e had never seen anomaly appear on screen. “Dr. Tetra,” e signaled through eir headset. “I’ve got an anomaly in inventory.” 

“Sometimes it’s a glitch,” Tetra signaled back. “Restart the scan and see if it happens again.” 

“Ten-four.” Fen shut down the scan, cleared the data, and tried again. Paint chip, satellite panel, anomaly. Fen signaled Tetra again. “Still there. Restart the scan again?” 

“No. I’m coming down there.” 

In a few minutes, Tetra was looking at the report over Fen’s shoulder. “Let’s have the bots fish out the anomaly. We can take a better look at it.” Fen nodded, and issued the command. The bots dove into the pile, until finally two came out, carrying a torn space suit glove. 

“That could be it. The scanner’s really sensitive to organic material, so a broken nail or stray hair could set it off,” Tetra said. Fen opened the door that separated em from the dump, and took the glove from the bot. 

E held the glove upside down, looking for anything that the scanner might have detected. E paled.

Dr. Tetra looked in the glove. Her mouth fell open. Then she signaled the crew. “All personnel, suspend operations immediately. Wake up Priya, and meet on the bridge in fifteen minutes.” She turned to Fen. “Not a word of this to anyone. Not yet.” She took the glove from Fen. “I’ll keep that in my quarters.” 

Suddenly what e was going to do after this mission didn’t matter so much.. All e wanted to do was get back down to Earth. Maybe e didn’t have a lot of prospects down there, but it was better than this.

Because down on Earth, Fen had never found a glove with a severed hand still in it.

Today’s a challenge day!

Element 1: For today’s challenge, instead of she/he/they pronouns, use neopronouns! Unfamiliar with them? Here’s a link to a MasterClass article that lists a manageable number of options and has other info too.

Element 2: One of the characters must redo something before the end of the story. Done, Fen has to redo the scan.

I actually had the idea for a space junk clean-up crew for FFM 2023, but never finished the story. Most of the character names are the same, though!

I might write a follow-up to this, since I don’t like ending things on cliffhangers for FFM, Fen’s story doesn’t have a conclusion. I just didn’t have enough words…I even went over the word limit at first with this one. I managed to cut it down to 999!

by booksoverlookedblog

FFM 16: Too Something


Without in any way limiting the author’s exclusive rights under copyright, any use of this publication to “train” generative artificial intelligence (AI) technologies to generate text is expressly prohibited. The author reserves all rights to license uses of this work for generative AI training and development of machine learning language models.

July is Flash Fiction Month! I’ll be sharing short short stories here through the month of July. More notes at the end of the story.

Makoto had forgotten about the cookies. By the time she pulled them out of the oven, they were charred and crispy. She sighed, and started scraping the bunny-shaped cookies into the trash. 

What was wrong with her? She absent-mindedly rubbed her chest. Did other people feel this foggy after their heart crystals were forced out of their bodies? That’s what Luna or Ami might have suggested. But Usagi and Minako would see that distant look in Makoto’s eyes and squeal about her being in love. 

“Who would I even be in love with?” Makoto asked to her empty apartment. Not Mamoru, of course. All the boys at her school were the same. None of them were elegant, or drove fast cars, or…

“Oh.” Makoto’s hand flew to her mouth, partially open in surprise. 

She should have known. Since the moment they meant, something about Haruka had captured Makoto. It was the way that she (he? Both?) carried herself, walking with long, easy strides and a teasing smirk. She was beautiful – or was she handsome? – however she dressed. And she was strong. 

Makoto was always too something. Too tall, too tough for a girl, too girly to be tough. Things were better with her new friends, who loved her just as she was. But always being too something had left its marks on her. 

Someone had probably told Haruka that she was too boyish, too strong, too fast. And Haruka had taken the things other people had told her and turned it into her armor. Makoto wanted to be like that. 

Makoto hugged herself. Was this what love felt like? She’d never been in love before, not like this. Her heart was dancing and tearing itself apart at the same time. Even if she loved Haruka, there was still Michiru. They’d never said it out loud, at least not in front of Makoto, but Haruka and Michiru were much closer than “good friends.”

Makoto had never thought much about how it might feel to kiss a girl before. Now, she wondered how it might feel to kiss Haruka. Heat spread over her cheeks. 

What was she supposed to do?

No one had ever said Makoto was cowardly, but she was feeling far from brave when she found Haruka the next week. “Um, I made something for you.” Makota held out a cloth wrapped bag of sugar cookies, each cookie cut into stars or crescent moons. She ducked her head, unusually shy, and hoped that Haruka didn’t see the blush creeping across her cheeks. 

“Oh, thank you.” Haruka smiled and tried a star-shaped cookie. “They’re really good!” 

Makoto forced herself to meet Haruka’s eyes. “I’m glad you like them.” Her heart thudded against her chest. “I really like…” 

Haruka waited, an amused smile on her lips. 

“…you,” Makoto finally said. 

“I know,” Haruka replied. “I think we could be good friends, Mako-chan.” 

There it was again: Makoto’s heart celebrating and mourning all at once. But she smiled anyway. “I’d like that.” 

Maybe Haruka wouldn’t be her first love, only her first heartbreak. But she still had Haruka in her life, and in Haruka’s eyes, she wasn’t too much of anything.

Alternative title: Makoto wishes Haruka was her cousin.

I’m sure Haruka breaks a lot of girls’ hearts.

I didn’t have the brain power to finish the story I was working on today, so I decided that some Sailor Moon fanfiction would be easier. And it was, until the end. I considered leaving the last scene out but after all the build-up, there had to be some interaction between Makoto and Haruka. If it feels rushed, that’s because it was. I just want to go to bed.

I have a lot more about to say about Sailor Moon, but I’ll spare you the unhinged (but loving) ramblings and just say that Jupiter/Uranus is a ship that I’ve been wanting to see for awhile, but never had the courage to write it myself.

Now, in the name of the Moon, I’m going to sleep.

by booksoverlookedblog

FFM 15: It’s Not Rocket Science

Without in any way limiting the author’s exclusive rights under copyright, any use of this publication to “train” generative artificial intelligence (AI) technologies to generate text is expressly prohibited. The author reserves all rights to license uses of this work for generative AI training and development of machine learning language models.

July is Flash Fiction Month! I’ll be sharing short short stories here through the month of July. More notes at the end of the story.

I was trying to pay attention to an article about building an electric generator when my slate got warm in my pocket. I pulled it out of my pocket, just a thin rectangle of brightly polished copper with a few words written on it. I recognized Theo’s handwriting before I even read the message. Can you come over? Stressed af.

I wasn’t getting anywhere in my work (if anything, it was putting me to sleep), and I knew how worn down final exams were making him. Can do, I replied. Set up the beacon.

It was a quick trip to Theo’s dorm room on Earth. After much hemming and hawing about transferring schools, he’d finally applied to Embry-Riddle. I might have come from a magical land, but Florida was a whole other universe compared to Buffalo. 

Theo barely looked up from his laptop when I arrived. “You’ll get wrinkles if you keep frowning like that,” I told him by way of greeting. 

He shut his laptop and turned to me. The worries in his face disappeared. “You don’t need to worry about that.” 

“Because I don’t worry.” I grinned and took a seat on his bed. 

“Liar.” Theo sat next to me and poked the top of one of my slightly tapered ears. 

“Thank you for noticing.” Like a lot of people who have some Fae blood, lying isn’t easy for me. It took a lot of practice to get this good. “Are exams killing you?”

Theo buried his face in his hands. “Yes. A million times yes,” he groaned, his voice muffled. 

“Do you want to help me build a generator instead?” I asked hopefully. 

“For the last time, Alex, I’m not that kind of scientist.” He leaned against my side. 

This was the confusing part. Theo and I had been together, broken up, and now…now I wasn’t so sure what we were. It was something deeper than just friendship, but we weren’t lovers, either. Theo and I have always been pretty touchy with each other, even from the start. Not weird for Fae, but weird for humans, especially Americans. So I liked when he leaned into me, and he relaxed when I put my arm around his shoulders. I didn’t know what it all meant, and I don’t think Theo did, either. 

“Right, you’re a space man.” 

“Astrophyscist. Except I won’t be if I don’t graduate, and I’m not going to graduate because I’m going to fail my statistical physics class and end up living in a cardboard box holding a sign that says ‘will calculate for food.’” All his words came out in one breath. Theo pressed his forehead against my shoulder. 

“Hey, hey,” I said in a soothing voice. I ran my fingers through Theo’s thick, dark hair. “You’re gonna pass. And then there’s only one semester left, you’ll graduate, start counting stars or launching rockets or whatever you do. And I’ll brag that I know the guy who sent a satellite to Uranus.”

We both laughed at the dumb joke. It was always good to see Theo smile. He straightened up a little, then took my hand in his. “And you’ll have figured out how to build a magical power grid.”

“That, or I’ll have lost my mind working on it.”

He let go of my hand and stretched his arms over his head. “You’ll figure it out.” He lied down on his side, and gestured for me to join him. His twin bed was narrow, but I squeezed between him and the wall. 

We lay there together for a moment, our knees touching, so close that I could feel his breath on my face. Theo took my hand again, rubbing his thumb over mine. “Tell me more about this future where it’s just you and me and everything’s okay.”

“No math,” I promised. “We’ll go on our gay little adventures, kill some monsters, fall in love.” 

“You’re not exactly a monster slayer.” 

“No, I’ll leave that part up to you.” You’d think the magical half-Fae prince would be decent with a sword, but it turns out a pissed off and confused human can be more useful than a trained warrior when you’re in a tight spot. 

“And the ‘fall in love’ part?” Theo asked. 

My heart stopped for a second. I was the one who broke up with him. I needed time to learn how to be a whole person, not just the Trickster Prince who’d hid behind a mask of pranks and games. It was a fun mask, but a mask nonetheless. 

Theo’s eyes were beautiful, dark brown flecked with gold. 

“Already there,” I said in a whisper. “You?”

Theo raised my hand to his lips. “And I never left.”

Surprise! You’ve been pronouncing Theo wrong. This Theo uses the French pronunciation, which is Tee-oh. He has Lebanese heritage, and there’s a big French influence in Lebanon, particularly among Maronite Catholics. Or, as I like to say, “it’s French because he’s Lebanese.”

Here’s another pair of characters from my novel, Prince Alexander, better known as Puck, and his boyfriend(?) Theo. This story would take place a few years after the novel, with Theo getting close to graduating from college. I chose to write from Puck’s first-person POV, since that’s how I’m writing the novel. Puck is also one of Mairead and Fiadh’s kids and Korbyn’s cousin.

This is also a challenge!

Element 1: We love prompts (and would love it if you fed more of them to us ;)). Today, we want you to pick a prompt from the Prompt Bank 2025. Any prompt, any number of them as long as the number is at least 1. Difficulty choosing? Let the 2025 Prompt Generator make the choice for you!

I used two prompts from bunnythewriter: (not the exact wording, but close enough!)

“Tell me more about this future, where it’s just you and me and everything is finally okay.” and “We’ll go on our gay little adventures, y’know fall in love, kill some monsters.” because it was such a Puck response.

Element 2: We would also like your wordcount to be palindromic (that is, one that reads the same backwards as forwards, such as 121 or 747 or 666). Why? We just think they [palindromes] are neat. This story is 787 words.

Optional element: include a generator of any kind in your story. Done! Puck would love to bring modern technology to the Otherworld, but the problem is that smartphones can’t run on magic…or can they?

by booksoverlookedblog

FFM 14: She stays away from Cabin 7

Without in any way limiting the author’s exclusive rights under copyright, any use of this publication to “train” generative artificial intelligence (AI) technologies to generate text is expressly prohibited. The author reserves all rights to license uses of this work for generative AI training and development of machine learning language models.

July is Flash Fiction Month! I’ll be sharing short short stories here through the month of July. More notes at the end of the story.

There’s always a stir when a new camper arrives, and for a long time Annabeth, Thalia, and Luke’s grand entrance to Camp Half-Blood was the most exciting thing to ever happen. Then this Percy Jackson kid showed up. 

New arrivals are always exciting, and there was a lot of speculation about who Percy really was. He settled in the Hermes cabin with the rest of us for a while, but we would gossip about him whenever he was out of sight. 

“Did you see what he did to the bathrooms? He’s probably Posedien’s son,” I said. 

My friend Dani scoffed. “Come on. You know the Big Three can’t have kids anymore.” 

Then, when he, Annabeth, and Grover all went off on their quest for the stolen Master Bolt, I had a hunch they were going in the wrong direction. Hermes was the god of thieves, after all. It would make sense that he had some hand in this. “What if it was someone from our cabin?” I suggested. “I like Luke, but he’s got a chip on his shoulder and he’s crafty enough to do it.” 

“Gods,” Dani sighed. “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard, Cassandra.”

IYKYK.

For those who don’t know: In Greek mythology, Cassandra was cursed by Apollo to give true prophecies, but no one would believe her. I’ve since been converted to a Percy Jackson fan, and thought it would be funny to have Cassandra as a camper. I thought about doing a vignette for each book in the first series, but it would all be kind of the same: “I bet that at least part of the Great Prophecy is about Luke.”
“Oh my gods, Cassandra, you’re such a liar.”

by booksoverlookedblog

FFM 13: Imagine a Forest + Bonus Story

Without in any way limiting the author’s exclusive rights under copyright, any use of this publication to “train” generative artificial intelligence (AI) technologies to generate text is expressly prohibited. The author reserves all rights to license uses of this work for generative AI training and development of machine learning language models.

July is Flash Fiction Month! I’ll be sharing short short stories here through the month of July. More notes (and an extra story!) at the end of this one.

Everyone knew the city went on forever. No one ever left, because there was nowhere to go. There was only the city. 

But two years ago, someone had left. Her name was Sawyer, and she said that she wanted to see a tree. Which no one understood, because everyone had seen a tree. There was a tree made out of metal and glass in the square, and it looked just like the real thing. But Sawyer had gone anyway, talking about a forest where real trees grew. 

No one had seen her since. Sometimes people got bored and moved to a different part of the city. But there was nothing beyond it. She was missed, but people moved on.

Then Sawyer returned. 

The rumors arrived before she did: a woman, with long, knotted hair and calloused feet was going through the city. She pulled a cart full of plants. Real plants, made out of leaves and green and other things the citizens had no name for. 

She talked about the forest. It was real. The city did end. And beyond it was something that she could scarcely describe. “Imagine if the walls around you breathed. Imagine hearing songs instead of machines. Imagine the sunset – all orange, and pink and red, not just the color of smog. Imagine.”

It was a long journey, but Sawyer at last arrived at the city center. Her cart was empty, save a few containers. She did not return alone. Travelers surrounded her, women and men and children, who had all left their homes to hear more of her stories. 

A crowd gathered around her in the square, full of faces that Sawyer once knew. They waited. 

“Imagine,” Sawyer started. “Imagine a tree.” 

A tree that was real and alive, one that could grow as tall as a building. Imagine water that came out of the ground, not a metal basin. Imagine wild, fresh food, growing in front of you. Imagine breathing air that doesn’t make you cough. Imagine wide spaces. Imagine life, all around you, everywhere you look. Imagine being part of it, but you don’t feel small or scared. You feel at peace.

When Sawyer had finished speaking, she went to the cart. “An apple tree, for food,” she said, taking one of the saplings out of the cart. “A willow tree, for healing. And a magnolia tree, for beauty.” She presented the remaining two saplings. “Our forest starts here.” 

Today’s story was inspired by the prompt “A forest appears overnight in the middle of the city.” by Erica. It made me think of another short I’d written a few years ago, with a setting that I’ve wanted to revisit, but never did. This one was inspired by a quote from The Last Unicorn by Peter S. Beagle: “There is no immortality but a tree’s love.” which became the basis for each paragraph in the story. I thought I’d include the original here. Are Sawyer and Maggie two different people, or did I just forget Maggie’s name and came up with a new one? You decide!

“There is nothing out there. The city goes on forever. There’s no forest out there. Everyone’s seen a tree, there’s one in the square. They say it looks just like the real thing. We can go there tomorrow. Come back to bed.”

“Is that what you really think? Metal and glass and wire isn’t a tree. Trees are supposed to be living and growing. I heard this place used to be covered with them. And the city can’t go on forever. Nothing goes on forever. It’s got to have an edge. An end. And maybe there’s a forest…”

“No one’s ever gone to the edge. Because there isn’t one. No forests. I don’t know why you started thinking about this all again. I hope you haven’t been listening to McAllister. Just because he’s been gone awhile doesn’t mean he’s been anywhere. You don’t actually believe him, do you? That there’s some forest and trees can give you immortality…”

“Immortality? Why would I want immortality? I don’t want that. I just want…something. Metal, glass, and wire, metal, glass, and wire, over and over. That’s all we have. Recycled air and water every day. I don’t want to see something built and re-built all the time. I want to see something grow!”

“But what’s the point? Even if there is an edge, even if there is a forest, what’s the point? We’ve got everything we need. Who cares if it’s recycled?”

“A tree is something that goes on forever. Something that would outlive us. Something that could outlive the city. Can you even imagine seeing so many of them together? Or putting your hands on one. Would it remember you forever? Isn’t that the closest you can get to immortality? A legacy?”

“Trees! Stick to the city, Maggie. It’s the only place you’ll ever go.”

“Love, I’m not asking you to come with me. Just believe in me. And if you can’t do that, then just kiss me goodbye. I don’t know when I’ll be back.”

by booksoverlookedblog

FFM 12: Alley Cat Blues

Without in any way limiting the author’s exclusive rights under copyright, any use of this publication to “train” generative artificial intelligence (AI) technologies to generate text is expressly prohibited. The author reserves all rights to license uses of this work for generative AI training and development of machine learning language models.

July is Flash Fiction Month! I’ll be sharing short short stories here through the month of July. More notes at the end of the story.

The dame was all legs. She stood at the threshold of my office, trying to paw her way in. She glanced over at my one blue eye. “Good thing I need a private eye, not a private eyes.” 

I felt a growl rise in the back of my throat, but I shut it down. She was a fierce one, and if I made the wrong move, she’d be ready to pounce.  “I’m a good sight better than anyone else you’ve been hounding.” 

“I’m sure you’ve heard about the incident at the spring factory,” she purred. 

“Of course.” It didn’t look like much, but the spring factory had been a popular joint for plenty of cats in town. One of its walls being destroyed had been big news. 

“I happen to be part owner, and I want to get to the bottom of what actually happened. My co-owner is ready to take the money and run, but I think something…more sinister has happened to my beloved factory.” She looked down at her manicured nails. “And if he does…he’ll see that this kitty has claws.” 

“Sounds like he needs a good lickin’.” I was intrigued by the job, and the dame. I wouldn’t mind sharing a bed with her. “I’ll take the job.” 

“Aww, the cats are playing nicely together for a change. They are obsessed with those springs.” 

“Yeah, too bad Stormy destroyed part of the spring factory. He chewed off one of the flaps on the box.” 

Surprise! It was about cats all along!

I decided not to do the collab genre mash-up challenge today, but did go for my suggested genre: noir!

“The spring factory” is what we call a cardboard box with plastic springs in the flaps for the cats to play with.

Your dame and detective: