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Showing posts from October, 2012

Tuesday FTP

The vials were full of bile colored liquids each one had to be identified. The technician was irritable at the sight of the vials. Every container had to be identified, it was the tech’s job to type each one and confirm it. A worse job could not be found.

Monday FTP

The catch was pitiful but the captain had no choice but to take it into port. The living was scarce when fish were floating to the surface from the chemical spill.

M3 Inspired Hot Flash

The cell door slammed shut as the corridor went dark. The trace amounts on his hands were enough to hold him overnight. Morning should bring a confession from the scared youth.

Another short

The haze of the smoke make their chests feel heavy. Wheezing as they crawled around a sudden fear struck. The heat was far too intense; they had gone further into the fire. They were goners.

FTP

A drop of blood fell on the counter. He swirled his finger in it to form a ring. Smiling he decided to propose as he licked it from his fingertip. 

FTP still

The bowl was too small, liquid splashed over the sides onto the counter. The towel was already covered in batter from the morning of spills. The robotic arm flung the mix across the room. It covered the walls as the bowl shattered on the corner of the antique chest.

FTP: Wake

The evening sun was beginning to dip low in the sky, and the coffee pot was finally making its way to the fire. It was going to be a long night attempting to follow the trail of footprints that was barely visible in the light of day.  The creatures only stirred at night making travel safer.
A few miles down the trail the evidence left in the wake of their visit was a harsh reality. The remains of the village with half eaten corpses let off a stench to putrid to describe in the tracking journal.

FTP Ripple

The stones were smooth creating a nice ripple effect as she tossed them in the pond. A few more stones and she would return to the cabin to finish her long neglected work.

FTP: drug

A car pulled up beside her and she slide into the passenger seat. There was not a word spoken as it accelerated into traffic reaching top speed in under a minute. This was to be the last time she took this ride. It was all set up. The last injection moments away she wondered if the drug would last or if the knowledge would return.

FTP: Book

White lines covered the tray, a disregarded straw lay on the floor by an ancient looking coffee table. Needles and fast food containers filled the trash can. Starving animals wandered the yard.
Fingers flying over the keys as the tape played, trying desperately to keep up with the spoken text. The book had to be complete by the end of the day.  

FTP "Mark"

Flashing lights were everywhere, they wondered what was happening. The view was blocked by the buildings so the lights quickly vanished from view. Yells of distress echoed through the streets, but there was no visual, no signs to indicate the imagined catastrophe.
Quickly picking up the pace they hurried to see if they could find the destination of the lights. Winded and sweating they reached the destination. It was as if a target was painted on the side of the building. The bomb squad confirmed they had hit their mark. 

Flash in the Pan: Flash

The neck was so tight, and he kept tugging at it as the choking sensation became increasingly uncomfortable. The train was much too slow, and it was far too crowded. The closeness of strangers was not appealing in the least.
The heat became increasingly intense. It was as if he were in a furnace. The train was never this hot, he had to get off. Why hadn’t his stop come up yet? A flash of light flickered before his eyes, and then he saw the flames coming closer as they devoured the other passengers in their path. 

Flash in the Pan Again

The lights flashed around the sign beckoning him to the hotel’s window. He hit the bell and waited impatiently for the clerk. He could see the clock ticking away the seconds on the wall behind the desk, he wondered if any eternity would pass. The squeak of the door indicated the clerk was finally there to rent him the room.

Flash in the Pan Playing Along Still

The pages were bent and ragged from years of use, covers worn out from hands rubbing over them. There were bowls everywhere, the oven was still hot. She tasted it again, something wasn’t right. It was sweet, tangy but not right. What was missing? She scanned the room again to see. Onions maybe? No, but what could it be? She hit her head on the cabinet. A pepper that was it!