Tag / flash fiction

by booksoverlookedblog

FFM 5: Guardian of the Gate

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 this story.

The left head was already slavering. “Let’s eat the mite,” it growled. It inhaled deeply. The scent of the living was rare at the gates of Hades. The mortal squirming beneath Cereberus’s clawed foot gave off an intoxicating smell. The mortal’s fear and desperation only added to the aromatic bouquet. The left head licked the sobbing human’s leg. “Then we leave the gates, and hunt more! We will feast!” 

“Why would a living mortal wish to enter our domain?” The right head snuffled. “This one is only here to find his wife and child. Yes, he was bold enough to attempt to sneak past us, but he came here in pain. Can we add to his suffering, when he’s suffered so much already? He will come to Hades eventually. Raise our foot, and let him leave for now.” 

The right and left looked to the center head. That was the one who made the final decisions, and would decide whether or not to raise Cerberus’s mighty paw and release the mortal. “No living mortal may enter our domain,” the center head barked.  “But this one may not deserve to be devoured just yet. We will raise our foot and let him leave…but he doesn’t need both legs.” 

Today’s challenge was the dreaded 369er! I went with the Greek myth of Cerberus, obviously…but the evolution comes in the form of Cerberus’s heads. Each head represents one of the Freudian concepts of the id, ego, or superego. Since the ego works to balance the wants of the id and superego, it’s the center head, and has control of Cerberus’s body.

Element 1: Today, we would like your story to have a specific theme: evolution of a (real-life or fictional) myth. Please tell in the story’s description which myth you picked or created!

Element 2: We also want a specific format for today’s story: 369er – in other words, 3 interconnected 69-word stories.

by booksoverlookedblog

FFM 4: Easier to Remain Silent

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 this story.

“The book is called Two Boys Kissing. Do you really think that’s appropriate for a school library?” This mom was one of a dozen, standing in front of me with a written complaint for the school librarian. “And this one.” Her next book surprised me. I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings by Maya Angelou. “And this one. Why do you allow pornography in our schools?”

“That’s actually a part of our curriculum. We use it in the seniors’ history class and–”

The mom threw the book down on my desk. “Disgusting. Disgusting.”

It was only two books. We had plenty of romance novels in the school library already, and the history department had loaner copies of Angelou’s biography. 

“Mom, you’re not thinking. If you look at the statistics, immigrants are actually less likely to commit crimes than–”

She cut me off with a glare. “They committed crimes when they snuck into this country.” 

“That’s really not how–”

“I worked my hands to the bone to give you a better life, and I’ll be damned if someone steals everything that we earned.” 

There was no arguing with her. I let it drop. 

The call came hours before school started. “Mrs. Harris was arrested.” 

“What?” I asked, trying to take in the news. 

“For distributing pornography to minors.” My principal rattled off a series of book titles: Drama, Melissa, It’s Not the Stork. More than I could remember. “This is serious. She might have to register as a sex offender.”

“By the way,” Mom told me. “Could you look into finding someone else to do the yardwork?”

“Someone else? What happened to Diego?” 

Mom looked down at her lap. “ICE.” 

“What the hell? He has a green card!”

“I know.”  She sighed. “He has two kids. I wish I could have done something.”

What can I do? I’m not a lawyer who could defend Mrs. Harris or get Diego out of detention. I’m just one person, one small person with no real power. Maybe if I had fought harder to keep those books, or tried to talk sense into people like mom, or…

Maybe nothing would have changed. 

But I could have fought, and made it a little harder for those big, sweeping powers to do harm. 

I don’t remember when I learned to swallow my own voice, but I know I’m tired of the aftertaste. 

I used the prompt “I don’t remember when I learned to swallow my own voice, but I know I’m tired of the aftertaste.” by Erica, from this year.

Stay safe. Keep fighting.

Project 2025 and Its Threat to Free Expression, Part 1 (PEN America)
Project 2025 and Its Threat to Free Expression, Part 2 (PEN America)
Project 2025 and Its Consequences for Libraries (EveryLibrary Institute, PDF)
Undocumented Immigrant Offending Rate Lower Than U.S.-Born Citizen Rate (National Institute of Justice [pdf])
Is There a Connection Between Undocumented Immigrants and Crime? (The Marshall Project)
Ask PolitiFact: What evidence does the government need to deport green card, visa holders? (PoltiFact)

by booksoverlookedblog

FFM 3: Love is a Battlefield

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.

Name pronunciation:

Fiadh – Fee-uh
Onóra – Oh-nor-uh
Mairead – Mahr-ee-ed
Caoimhe – Kee-vah

More notes on this story are at the end of the post.

“Fiadh, be sensible.” Onóra finished tying her younger sister’s hair into a series of knots and braids. “You might love a human, but you’ll never be allowed to marry one.” She opened Fiadh’s jewelry box to find baubles for her sister’s horns. “Ugh–what’s this?” 

Onóra pinched a long piece of fabric between her thumb and forefinger. It might have been white once, but was stained with sweat and dark splotches of blood. “Mairead made it for me,” Fiadh replied with a smile. “One of my hand wraps. I still prefer bare-knuckle, but she insisted. I was afraid that it would make my punches too soft.” She formed a fist. “It didn’t.”

“Well, those days are over.” Onóra dropped the wrap on the floor and found some bells for Fiadh’s antlers. “You’re next in line for the throne now. If you keep going like this, both you and Mairead are going to get hurt.”

Fiadh glanced at the wrap. “We’ve both already been hurt. I’m not giving her up. Not for anything.” 

The ball was beautiful, as always. Food and wine were plentiful, as were Fiadh’s suitors. Men and women alike had traveled far for the promise of a dance with the eventual queen. Each partner was more tedious than the last. It was like they had all read from the same “How to Woo a Princess” handbook, feeding her the same praise again and again. Every so often someone would add in something about what their clan could offer the crown.

Fiadh knew that fending off so many potential mates would be irritating, but she hadn’t expected it to be so boring. They would give her gems and dote on her, when what she wanted was a woman who made hand wraps and challenged her. 

She stopped mid-dance with a handsome púca. At least, they might have been handsome. It wasn’t easy to tell with shapeshifters. “Pardon me. I must speak with my mother.” 

Fiadh rarely asked Queen Caoimhe permission for anything, and her request shocked her mother. Caoimhe nearly refused, until Fiadh swore that she would be true to her word. Only then did the queen allow Fiadh to make her announcement. 

The music stopped, and Fiadh called for attention. “I know many of you have come seeking my hand. Your words are kind, but they do not easily sway me. I believe in action. I will only marry someone who can defeat me in unarmed combat. No weapons, no befuddling magic, just a good fight.

“Anyone who wishes to challenge me, come to the training yard at dawn.” 

Eight challengers lined up on the edge of the sparring ring. Her first opponent was Aos Sí like her, but a muscled warrior with fists like stones. They would feel like boulders if they hit her. 

So she wouldn’t get hit. 

Fiadh’s opponent had the advantage in size, but she was faster. She dodged his first swings, then threw a jab to his face. He caught her fist in his massive hand, but not the hook that came for his side. Fiadh moved in. Her foe couldn’t adapt quickly enough to avoid the battering that Fiadh was giving him. If he tried to punch, she slipped out of reach and countered with an uppercut. 

He finally surrendered. Fiadh grinned at her audience. “Right, who’s next?” 

By the fifth bout, Fiadh was getting worn down. By the sixth one, she was making mistakes. She’d beaten her opponent again, but she had a bloody nose and bloodier knuckles. 

Fiadh caught her breath and gestured for her next suitor to come forward: the same púca that she’d cut her dance short with. Fiadh licked her lips. Even at full strength, a shapeshifter would be difficult to deal with. Fiadh had barred magic that affected the senses from the matches, but anything that altered the participants’ bodies was fair game. 

“Another dance, Your Highness?” The púca bowed and looked up to give her a coy smile.

“Gladly.” 

The two fighters circled each other for a moment, sizing the other up. Fiadh made the first move, feinting to the left then striking with a jab to the right. The púca responded instantly, slamming a fist into her side. For a minute they exchanged blows with equal fury. An unexpected hit to Fiadh’s jaw sent her sprawling. 

She gasped. No one had ever knocked her down in a fight before. As she got to her knees, she saw that the púca had partially shifted. Their arms and hands were thick as an ape’s, packing more power with each punch than before. 

Fiadh didn’t stand. She put her hands on the ground changed. Her limbs lengthened; dark hair sprouted along her body. Her antlers enlarged and flattened, until she’d taken on another form: the Irish Elk. 

The púca barely had time to react before Fiadh swept them up with her antlers. She tossed the púca to the ground, not quite gently, and rested a massive hoof on their chest. Not enough to hurt, but enough that they would feel its pressure. 

The púca surrendered. 

Fiadh gave a short victory bugle. She snorted and stomped her hoof, awaiting her next opponent.

No one moved. Then a hooded figure stepped forward. The challenger held out a hand, and Fiadh touched her nose to it and inhaled. She stomped her hoof again, indicating she was ready for the final fight. 

The challenger tapped Fiadh on the nose. 

Fiadh wobbled where she stood, then collapsed. Her elk form melted away as she cried out, “I’ve been defeated! I’ve been bested!” 

The crowd gasped, and all eyes went to the stranger. She pulled the hood away from her face. A face that was utterly, utterly human. The woman helped Fiadh to her feet.

Fiadh grabbed the woman’s hand and raised both of theirs in the air. “Meet my betrothed: Lady Mairead!” 

The uproar was instantaneous. Queen Caoimhe’s face was red with rage, while Onóra just looked shocked…and then started applauding. 

Mairead kissed Fiadh’s cheek. “Let’s get you cleaned up. Why didn’t you wear the wraps?” 

They’re baaaaack! Fiadh and Mairead are characters from the novel I’m currently writing. They’re the main character’s parents. They’re both dead by the time the novel starts, but they have such a fun (and long) backstory that I’ve been writing pieces of it for FFM. There were a few stories about Fiadh, Mairead, and their kids last year. I’ve had a lot of fun writing these “bonus stories” that take place before the novel starts, so I’ll probably have a few more of them this year.

This story was also inspired by the Khutulun. Legend says that she was a great wrestler and would only marry a many who could defeat her. Any losers had to give her a horse. According to some stories, she had 50 horses before she had a husband. Good for you, girl.

This is also for today’s challenge: I Cannot Use That.

Element 1: Pick an item you have interacted with today. Its size, function, location or current state of existence do not matter. What matters is that you have interacted with it today and that you include said item in your story. – the hand wraps

Element 2: That said, your protagonist is not allowed to use the item you chose at all in the story. The reason why is up to you.

Element 3: As tempting as it would be to allow for the briefest of “I cannot use that” shenanigans, we are rather hungry for words after a long hibernation. Your story must be at minimum 300 words long. Because it’s day 3 and this is element number 3, you know? – this was the easiest one for me to do!

by booksoverlookedblog

FFM 2: A Tail’s Tale

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. Last year, my cat Nimbus got her own story: The Adventures of Nimbus, by Nimbus. This year, Nimbus got a little brother named Storm. Stormy loves to go outside, but when he comes in I have to pick dirt and leaves off him, especially his tail. I decided I needed to write a picture book about him. There’s a picture of my muse at the end of the story.

Stormy was a cat with a fluffy, fluffy tail. All kinds of things got stuck in his tail when he went out to play.

On Monday, Stormy went out to play. When he came home, he had one ladybug stuck in his tail.

On Tuesday, Stormy went out to play. When he came home, he had two butterflies and one ladybug stuck in his tail.

On Wednesday, Stormy went out to play. When he came home, he had three lizards, two butterflies, and one ladybug stuck in his tail.

On Thursday, Stormy went out to play. When he came home, he had four birds, three lizards, two butterflies, and one ladybug stuck in his tail.

On Friday, Stormy went out to play. When he came home, he had five bunnies, four birds, three lizards, two butterflies, and one ladybug stuck in his tail. 

On Saturday, Stormy got brushed. His owner brushed out five bunnies, four birds, three lizards, two butterflies, and one ladybug that were stuck in his tail. 

On Sunday, Stormy went out to play. He came home with friends in his tail. His friends were…five bunnies, four birds, three lizards, two butterflies, and one ladybug! 

Stormy Odinsson, my little dirt boy.
by booksoverlookedblog

FFM 1: Spider Whelp

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 are at the end of the story.

“A ring of disguise. I know you have one.” 

“Thought you might be coming here, spider-whelp.” The human woman said. “Your kind never gets far on their own.”

“They are not my kind.”

The human grinned, baring a broken tooth. “I’ve heard differently.” 

Shoved against the wall, knife to his throat. “Let’s see what you’re hiding under here.” Calloused hands tore the hat off his head. Moonlight white hair spilled down to his chin. 

“That’s what I thought.” The point of the high elf’s blade trailed across flesh, to the spider insignia that stained the drow’s flesh. The high elf elicited a hiss. “You’ve been marked.” 

“I know you’re good,” the human continued. “You’ve killed plenty of my guys. But plenty of the other side’s guys, too. Keep going like that, you’ll be dead before the month is out.” 

There was an understanding between the drow and whoever hired him. He would kill no women, and his loyalty after the job was done was malleable. Most thought he was worth the price anyway.

“I have money,” he told the human. 

“I know. You’ve gotten plenty of it from me. I don’t want your money,” she replied.

The drow scoffed. “All anyone wants in this city is money.” 

“The ring has a price, but it’s not measured in gold.” She fished it from her pocket, a copper band with a tiny glass mirror where a stone would be.

 The drow’s red eyes gleamed. “What is it then?”

“You work for me. Exclusively.”

A mass of bodies under the earth, chanting and calling out to their goddess. They were divided, the men and the women, praising their true queen.

Silver webs shone against the dark, and Lolth came to them. Her many eyes swept over the mass of her worshippers. She picked from the women first, Her newest clerics.

Then, the men. Praying, but not daring to hope that the Queen of Darkness would deign to bless them.

She chose him.

He would not raise a hand to a woman, not even to this one, who both deserved it and had what he most wished for in the world.

But the price was too high.

“I work for no one but myself.” He took a step back.

“That’s what I thought you might say.” 

She drew her sword.

The burst of dark energy had slain the high elf before he could draw the drow’s blood. He had slain many others in the same way. 

With each spell, he could only hope that Lolth did not feel him drawing on Her power. Let her forget about him, and the gift she had given him. She had many, many others to do her bidding. Let him disappear into the crowd again. 

He could feel that borrowed power tingling at his fingertips now. He would not use it.

The drow fled. 

FFM #1 Challenge! Write a story with a nonlinear narrative.

I was really stuck on this one at first. Then I remembered I play DnD, and I have a character for an upcoming campaign that needs a backstory. The character in question is a male drow warlock, who came to Waterdeep from the Underdark. He’s really hoping that Lolth will just forget about him and let him figure out how to be a person.

by booksoverlookedblog

FFM 23: Aging: Please Rate 1-5 Stars

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 are at the end of the story.

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

I just turn 7 and i have almost all my grown up teeth and i am rsponsable enof for a pet hampster!! His nam is FLUFFY!!

⭐⭐⭐⭐

17 is pretty cool, I guess. I have the best friends in the ♥♥WORLD♥♥ and I’m getting out of this high school hell soon! My parents are always on my back about everything though. There’s SO much pressure: get good grades, get a date for prom, get a job, get into college. 🙄 I kinda hate what everyone calls the “real world.” But I’m almost out of this shithole for good!!

⭐⭐⭐

Well, here I am, a middle-management jackass. Honestly pretty embarrassed to look at my last review from 10 years ago. Because, old me, you’re not going to change the world, you’re not going to keep your friends (you still talk to one of them), and guess what? You move back to your hometown that you said you’d never go back to, you end up living with your parents for three years (who, it turns out, are actually reasonable people), and your asshole boyfriend cheats on you with your cousin. I wish I could warn you about these things. I wish I could tell you that the pressure doesn’t end, it just gets bigger: get a better job, go to grad school, get married, have kids. But you get better at handling it. You know who you are, and you’ve got confidence and a say in your life. And having control over your own money is pretty sweet. Last week I spent like $200 on Legos, and no one could tell me no. 

Your body really goes downhill after 25, though. Last week I blew my knee out playing pickleball. Watch out for that.

⭐⭐

Has it really been 20 years since I updated this?! Well, I’m fat now, with a bum knee and gray hair, three kids and a mortgage that I’ll never be able to finish paying. Life is expensive, I’m too busy doing everything to have any time for myself, and I’m just counting the days to retirement. 

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

This will probably be my last update, 30 years since my previous review. 87 isn’t bad at all. My joints ache all the time, and I forget things a lot. My eyesight isn’t what it used to be. Faces are a blur now, and I have to hold anything close to my face to see it. But my kids come to see me a lot, and my grandkids, and I’ve even got a great-granbaby on the way. I hope I get to meet her. It’s been quite a ride. Lots of ups and downs, but if I got the chance to do it all again and not change a thing, I would. Everything, from Fluffy’s terrible demise at the claws of Pepper, the broken hearts, the stress, the pain of losses that I thought I wouldn’t have the strength to bear has shaped me in so many ways. There is just as much joy and love and beauty in my life as there was ugliness and pain. This kaleidoscope that we call life is far from perfect, but it is utterly magnificent.

87 is a fine age to be. So is 57, and 27, and 17, and 7. 

Highly recommend.

This is another challenge for FFM: Five Stars, Baby!

Write a story in the style of an online review. Popular targets for online reviews include hotels, restaurants, movies, books, utensils… but why stop there? You can write up a social media comment or recipe note – the choice is yours! No matter what you choose, the narrator should be actively rating a product, service, cosmic power, etc., AND the entire story should be contained within the review itself.

by booksoverlookedblog

FFM 14: I am not a good cook.

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 one is partially based on a true story.

How to make the perfect fauxjito:

  1. Get mint from the garden.
  2. That’s not mint. That’s sage.
  3. Get mint from the garden. Good, you found the right one.
  4. Muddle the mint by crushing it in a glass with sugar, and the juice of half a lime.
  5. Just half a lime.
  6. Put the lime down, Jesus.
  7. Add a shot of your choice of rum replacement. I prefer Seedlip Garden 108, it’s fresh and
  8. Do not accuse me of being sponsored. This isn’t a sponsored recipe. 
  9. What are you doing with that salt? You don’t need salt for this. 
  10. Add ice to your glass. 
  11. Why are you praying? Are you praying? I know that you’re new to making cocktails but I promise it’s not that difficult. 
  12. Add seltzer to your glass until it’s full.
  13. HOW DID YOU DO THAT
  14. THIS ISN’T THAT HARD
  15. OH MY GOD I CAN HEAR THE HOUNDS OF HELL BAYING FOR ENTRY
  16. GUARD THE DOOR DO NOT LET THEM IN
  17. THERE’S NO TIME QUICK GARNISH YOUR DRINK GARNISH YOUR DRINK
  18. NOT WITH THE SAGE
  19. GARNISH YOUR GLASS WITH MINT BEFORE IT’S TOO LATE
  20. Enjoy your fauxjito! 
by booksoverlookedblog

FFM 12: The Blacksmith and the Lover

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 can be found at the end of this story.

“You know you are not to come in here.” The blacksmith set his hammer down on his anvil. His dark eyes glowed in the firelight of the forge.

“You humiliated me.” Tears streaked down Aphrodite’s face. Even in a fury, the goddess remained beautiful. It was the beauty of an erupting volcano, spewing vermillion and gold lava and flames in a display that even the gods would envy. Her anger was heart-stopping, breathtaking, and dangerous to all who stood in its path.

“You have humiliated me many times before, my beauty,” Hephaestus replied in his gravelly voice. “I have been faithful to you. All I asked is that you extend me the same courtesy.” 

“Because no one else would have you!” Even Aphrodite’s angry shriek was strangely beautiful, like a high-pitched note sung exactly right. “Your own mother was disgusted by you!” 

The flames erupted around the mismatched pair, turning the air around them molten. Sparks leapt and caught on Aphrodite’s gown, so sheer that Hephaestus could see her unblemished skin. Skin that he so longed to touch, but she never let his coarse, dirty hands near her. That only enraged him more, knowing how freely she gave herself to Ares whenever she wished it. 

Aphrodite batted at the flames. The door to the forge opened again. A small girl, who came up no taller than Hephaestus’s knee, entered. She was pale and pure as fresh snow. She shared her mother’s opalescent eyes, but unlike Aphrodite, there was no cruelty in them. 

Hephaestus closed his hand into a fist, smothering the all the flames in the forge. With some difficulty, he knelt to speak to the girl. “Harmonia, why are you here?” 

“I’m sorry for interrupting your work, my Lord Hephaestus,” she said with a tiny bow. “I came to find my mother. I had a stomachache.” She rubbed her abdomen. 

Hephaestus and Aphrodite’s eyes met. The child had felt their conflict. Yet, just by being here, she had begun to soothe their anger. 

“Aphrodite, there’s a bin on my workbench. Will you bring it to me?”

Without a word, the goddess did so. Hephaestus offered it to Harmonia. “Look what I’ve made for you.” The girl eagerly accepted the wind-up toys and tiny automaton that danced on her hand. 

Painfully, Hephaestus rose. He sank into the chair he kept beside his anvil with a relieved sigh. “She is truly your finest creation.” 

Aphrodite smiled at the girl, who was utterly absorbed with a wind-up crab. “Best not let Eros hear that.” There was no place for her to sit, so she leaned against Hephaestus’s anvil. “You truly are a magnificent craftsman.” 

Hephaestus grunted. “It is all I can give to Olympus. I know had you been given a choice, you would not have taken me.” He looked down at his twisted foot. “Nor would I have blamed you. This will not surprise you, but I would have chosen you every time.” He let out a short, bitter laugh. “As would any god or mortal man.” 

“I cannot go against my nature anymore than you can,” Aphrodite replied. 

“I will never give my approval to your meetings with Ares, but I know asking you to stop would be like asking the wind not to blow. Now that all of Olympus knows, I ask for your discretion.” 

A rosy pink tinted Aphrodite’s cheeks. “You will have it, husband, as long as I have your kindness.” 

“You will, my beauty.” 

“Thank you.” Aphrodite took Hephaestus’s hand.

I’ve always loved Greek mythology, and Hephaestus has become one of my favorite Olympians. It’s not just because of all the cool stuff he’s made (though he’s made like 90% of important mythological artifacts), but also because he’s perpetually the underdog of the 12 Olympians, and, unlike most Greek gods, actually forgave Hera for literally throwing him off Mt. Olympus. Most Greek gods take the “You think you can weave better than me? You’re a spider now” route.

Harmonia is one of the lesser known Greek goddesses, and Ares and Aphrodite’s daughter. She is the goddess of, well, harmony, and smoothing over strife. I’m also ignoring the myth of Harmonia’s cursed necklace/cloak. I figure if all those other Greek myth retellings can mess with the original stories, so can I.

I have one more story featuring Hephaestus and Harmonia coming up sometime this month.

by booksoverlookedblog

FFM 9: Butcher Bird and Spider Lily

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 about this story are at the end of the post.

“Are the cuffs really necessary?” Butcher Bird wriggled her arms, rattling the chain. “You know I can’t use my powers inside.”

Sitting across the metal table, Spider Lily glared at her. “You’re dangerous enough without them.”

Butcher Bird grinned. “Glad you remembered that.”

Spider Lily extended her arm and rolled up her sleeve. Unlike most superhero costumes, Lily’s was loose-fitting. At least a dozen spiders crawled up and down Lily’s arm. It was a warning. “The Association gave me ten minutes to talk to you. I want to hear your side of the story.”

Bird scoffed. “Since when do you want to hear my side of the story, Lil?” 

“I know we’ve had our differences, and that you’ve never been interested in joining the Association. But LAPH still sets the standards for what is and is not acceptable superhero behavior. We’ve ignored your previous infractions, but today you’ve taken things too far.” Lily pinched her fingers close together. “You’re this close to being declared a supervillain.” 

Bird let out a harsh, one-syllable laugh. “You people really have no perspective, do you? Do you know what that rocket was loaded with?”

“You impaled the CEO, several times, in a gigantic nest of barbed wire and left him to die.” 

Bird gestured to the emblem on her chest, which depicted a white and gray bird with a black mask around its eyes and at the tips of its wings: a loggerhead shrike. “Um, yeah. That’s kind of my whole thing. It was people, by the way.”

Lily’s brows met in a point. “What?”

“On the rocket. Not probes. It was a bunch of people in vegetative states. Their families thought they’d taken them off life support, but no, your beloved spaceman CEO thought they’d be excellent test subjects. Did he die, by the way? I didn’t get a chance to go back to check. You know. Because arrested.” She jiggled the chain of her cuffs again. 

Lily blinked several times. “He’s still alive, in the ICU.”

“Damn. Next time I’ll do better.” She sounded genuinely disappointed.

“See, that’s the kind of thing that makes you sound like a supervillain!” Lily huffed, then calmed herself. “How did you know there were people on that rocket?” 

“I got a tip-off.” Bird shrugged as best she could. “Someone who suspected her favorite uncle wasn’t going to the great beyond. At least not in the figurative sense.”

Lily narrowed her eyes. “Why would she tell you, and not us?” 

“Oh, she tried. She went to the cops first, then through the usual LAPH channels. Cops laughed at her, she was ignored by the hotline…thankfully, she found me.” A smug smile appeared on Bird’s face. “That’s the advantage of working with a small business.”

Lily jotted something down on her tablet. “Let’s talk about the cops.”

“Oh boy, here it comes…” Bird rolled her eyes. “They were shooting at me.”

“Because you were attacking a CEO at a rocket launch!” Lily slammed her hand against the table. “Three of them died, Butcher Bird. You’re really living up to your name.”

Bird quirked an eyebrow. “And?”

Lily straightened herself. “Superheroes are always meant to work with law enforcement, never against it.”

Bird’s face hardened. “Even if law enforcement was trying to help a megalomanic shoot coma patients into space, without their family’s knowledge or consent? You’re okay with that?”

Lily’s eyes flashed. “No. I’m not okay with that. But going off the knowledge the officers had at the time–”

“–which my source tried to tell them, but they ignored–” Bird cut in. “This is the problem with you Association people. Everything is black and white with you. But the people like me, who don’t live an ivory tower, or whatever your HQ is made of…” Bird scuffed her toe along the clean floor. “We know better. No one is totally good, and no one is totally bad. Just because you’re in the ‘Loose Association of Powerful Heroes’ doesn’t mean that you actually are a hero. Just because you destroy a launchpad doesn’t mean you’re bad.” 

“But you did destroy a launchpad. And a lot more than that.” 

Bird leaned back in her chair. “Hell yeah, I did. And I would do it all again.” 

“I think I’ve got enough here.” Lily stood up. “The sec-bots will see you back to your cell.” 

“So, am I a supervillain now?” Bird asked as she walked past. 

“I’m not at liberty to say.” Lily had her hand on the door. “It’s not my decision.” 

“Don’t give me that Association talk. Look at me, Lil. Look me in the eyes and tell me what you would do,” Bird challenged. 

Lily swallowed, and took in the face of the woman who used to be her friend. “I don’t know,” she admitted. 

“Not so easy, is it?”

“No,” Lily said quietly.

“As long as you know that.” Bird nodded. “Do what you have to, Lil.” 

This is another FFM challenge! Participants were given songs by other brave souls attempting FFM to use as inspiration for today’s story. This was inspired by “Renegade” by Styx (Butcher Bird being caught by the long arm of superhero law) and “My Back Pages” by the Byrds (“My guard stood hard when abstract threats/Too noble to neglect/Deceived me into thinking/I had something to protect/Good and bad, I define these terms/Quite clear, no doubt, somehow”)

Butcher Bird and Spider Lily popped into my head a few months ago, and I knew I had to write about them for FFM. I didn’t think this would be their introduction, though! Butcher Bird was always meant to be an anti-heroine, the song choices really screamed her name. I’ll probably have a couple other stories about these two, because I want to see them in action.

The loggerhead shrike is one of my favorite perching birds because they’re small and vicious. They impale their prey on thorns or barbed wire. And, credit where it’s due: the name Loose Association of Powerful Heroes was actually made up by my friend Sam, waaaay back, and I never forgot it.

by booksoverlookedblog

FFM 6: The Adventures of Nimbus

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. I didn’t have time to finish the story I’d started for today, so I thought I would share a translation I’ve been working on. There’s a picture of the original author at the bottom of the post.

The Adventures of Nimbus

By Nimbus

Translated by her human

Wake up. Humans asleep. Bite humans. Do zooms. Am fast. Very fast. 

Humans awake. Let me go outside. Let me outside. Let me outside. Let me outside. Let me outside. Let me outside. 

Lizard. Lizard. Chase. Chase. Claws. Claws. Bite. Bite. Pat. Pat. Lizard no move. Boring Lizard.

Fight lemon grass. Bite lemon grass. Eat lemon grass. Human comes. Uppies. 

Back inside. Watch birds out the window. Bird. Bird. LET ME KILL IT LET ME KILL IT LET ME KILL IT EKEKEKEKEKEKEKKE

Snuggle time with humans. Bite humans. Nap.

Let me outside. Let me outside. Let me outside. Let me outside. Let me outside. 

Original text: 

Og iasfdsagl’as’ ,dsbf0 ng nrw6nkynaw ads dsm’fa[oeryb 5grnfc , fjlfglska;f j       d nand na  fdas

D df ad dj’l;’fajf mmam a 

\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\adm fa’ ‘nn

EEKEKEKEKEKEKEKEKEKEKEKEKEKERKEKEKEKEK

LET ME OUT HUMAN

I DESIRE TO MURDER LIZARDS 

Gsd  oiaidhfasd;an; asd ; af ihasiufei a ajfj alf la fal si oafndnlfnlafnln n  auu  a   akldknvioa   nakeo