Bolt Flash Fiction: Strike 17

Tell us a story about the picture in 100 words or less. It can be romance or speculative or suspense or mystery. Surprise us. Challenge us. Inspire us.

Post your story in the comments and include a link back to your website if applicable. Help us build a community of great Flash Fiction Writers by sharing with the hashtag #BoltFlashFic. Check out other great flash fiction happening over at Flash!Friday.

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Each week we will choose the best entry and highlight that story in the next installment of #BoltFlashFic Friday. Each week editors for Splickety Magazine will read your stories, and who knows? You might get picked up for publication in one of our imprints: Splickety Prime, Splickety Love, or Havok.

This week’s feature story received a lot of feedback online for its clarity of mind and heart. Thanks Timothy for sharing “The Light”.

I woke. “Why am I in a hospital bed? Where’s the equipment?”

“Last thing I remember was a cute beagle in the road. I swerved. There was a tree. A loud noise.”

“Does this mean… Oh!”

Out in the hallway hundreds of doors like mine lined both walls.

“What now? Oh yeah, go to the light.”

I walked to the far wall and pressed the single elevator button. Doors opened onto a white-robed man holding a clipboard.

“Name?” He asked.

“Travis. Travis Johnson.”

He glanced down.

“Going up?” I asked.

He nodded.

I smiled. Time to go home.

Don’t forget today is the deadline to submit your stories for our Halloween issue of Havok. Read the submission guidelines and give us your best less than 1000 words. Havok Halloween is synonymous with Horror. This year we want traditional, supernatural monster stories—vampires, werewolves, ghosts, monsters, and things that go bump in the night. Send a terrifying tale that will lurk under our beds at day and haunt us in our dreams at night.

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6 comments on “Bolt Flash Fiction: Strike 17
  1. Carol Kanthan says:

    GUILTY? (word count 100)

    Detective Anderson led me toward the police car. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw blinds go up, curtains pulled aside.

    Neighbours gathered on footpaths.

    “My God, Beryl, he’s a Psycho.”

    “He’s weird, love.”

    Jan pursed her lips. “I reckon she’s been dead for years.”

    Beryl shook her head. “He’s a killer, that’s what he is. The
    lady who lives next door says she hasn’t seen his wife for years.”

    “look at him Beryl, you’d think butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth.”

    “Yeah.”

    The clickety-clack of a passing train almost drowned their voices as the door of the police car swung open.

  2. M. Carpenter says:

    “Wilbur’s gone.”

    “I see that,” nodding to the name tag in the basket. “You realize it’s your fault.”

    “Why is it my fault?”

    “Silly man. You should know better than to give a cyclops a position as a greeter.”

  3. Paralax
    (100 words)

    “Here’s another one,” the patrolman said, stooping to pick up the tag.

    “This is happening too often,” the second noted. “Do you think the old prophesy true?”

    “What, that in the year 3033 people would suddenly be taken away? Old wives tale and trouble for you if they hear you even speak of it.”

    “But the tracers are dropping to the ground with increased regularity.”

    “That’s enough! Put it with the rest.”

    In a parallel universe, Wilbur fell at the feet of the stranger who’d appeared to guide him through the portal.

    “Rise,” his rescuer said. “You’re prayers are answered.”

  4. Carol Kanthan says:

    The Aliens

    “Yippee, it’s Wednesday,” I shouted tapping on the keyboard and squinting at the screen.”It’s time for Bolt Flash Fiction Strike 18.”

    “Whoa,” said Wilbur his name tag shaking.”Aliens must have taken control. There’s nothing there.”

    “There must be havok in the office with all those vampires and creepy crawlies. Perhaps they have been eaten and their bones left to dry on the keyboard,” I cried.

    “Oh, God—No!” Wilbur shouted.

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