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Welcome to the latest installment of Friday Flash Fiction. Enter your short work of fiction (generally between 100 and 1,000 words) based on this prompt by midnight Saturday to be eligible to win! The best entry will be published on the site, along with a short author bio; bringing you fame, fortune and bragging rights. Winners also receive a small prize. Entries may be posted in the comments or emailed to theoneminutewriter@gmail.com. If you post in the comments, please be sure to leave us a way to contact you in case you are our winner. Good Luck!
Are you aware that there have been MULTIPLE cases of people stumbling upon severed heads this week? I'm serious. A young girl in Australia was collecting shells on the beach when oh hey, human head. And then at Chicago's O'Hare airport a whole case of the things turned up randomly. What, is this a thing? I'm alternately horrified and fascinated.
So, for this week's FFF, write a story from the point of view of one of these body-less, random human heads that is just cropping up surprising people. They must have some really cool stories behind them.
Please note: I realize this prompt runs towards the gruesome. I'd go comedy myself, but I can see where this has horror potential. Even so if they are posted in the comment section on the blog, and / or in order to win, they must be family friendly i.e. not too gory and not too dark on the horror scale. Otherwise we will have to remove them. Privately, you write whatever you want. Thanks for understanding!
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Friday, January 18, 2013
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I was beheaded; and it sucked. Memories flashed through in my head. Well… I’m in heaven now, but every time I look down the scene keeps being replayed over and over and over and over. It just won’t stop. I can see where the man was hiding behind a car. I see myself walking the streets of San Francisco. I watch myself as I turn the corner of an empty ally; a short cut to get to my house. I hear mice scuttle around and I pick up my pace. Then BOOM! A man in all black leaps out in front of me is carrying an axe. I close my eyes and wait for the worst to come. And I see; again, how I died on August 13, 1990. My head rolls of my neck, and falls to the ground. My body lurches backwards and lies in a pool of blood. And the man struts away, satisfied with his mission accomplished. So… my revenge is to haunt him for the rest of his life.
"Off with her head!" I thought this was a phrase only heard in fairytales. But no, I heard it myself and I was the head being talked about! A lovely head, if I do say so myself, and crowned with glorious blond curls. Then those fateful words and cold storage. I have been waiting for years to be found and restored to my rightful shoulders. Finally, the day I have been waiting for. I hear the scraping of a key as the box is unlocked. I wait to be discovered." Ah, yes. Hear she is. I knew we'd find her some day! " l am put back on the shoulders of Venus. It has been so long...
Human heads
Heads. Human heads all over the world. Those were the only words i understood from my master. My master is from the future and he says that human heads out on the streets, out of the blue, are all a plan. Aliens have sent killed humans and chopped their heads off and put the human heads all in different coordinates around the world. The heads are like connecting the dots and when you have connected all of the dots, before the police was called and removed them from their “site”, they make an remote control figure. My master said that the remote control is a symbol for television. In what way? You may ask. What do most humans watch? Televisions. What do televisions show? Peoples life’s. Whether it’s reality or fiction. The aliens are all setting up the heads onto public domain property to make us humans curious and interested on why they are there. So that we could be side tracked to the television.
One alien was stuck inside the satellite. And in the satellite there is a hallway. And if you walk past the hallway, the camera turns on and boom the live feed is sent to all the televisions worldwide. NASA made the satellite in that way so that the humans in the world will feel comfortable that no creature is out in space. And what are the aliens doing? They want to distract them. The alien who is stuck inside the satellite has no idea about it and the other aliens are doing this as quickly as possible to prepare for the worst. They don’t want to haunt the world by showing who they are. Because the aliens are the same people on earth but from a different galaxy. And live in a more advanced earth.
email: danielgiraffeinwonderland@gmail.com
Hahhahaa, I love all of these. =)
Good luck guys! Unfortunately, I like writing gruesome stuff, so I'm out for this round. ;)
Mindy
www.sksainitheauthor.blogspot.com
The Body-less Head
Hey, wait a minute! What the h...! Oops,sorry, word fart.
There is water in my ears. I have always hated water in my ears, now they are waterlogged. Where are my earplugs? Nine carat gold earrings, my foot.
So much for buying merchandise online
I have a hole in my right eardrum.My eyes, they can't blink. I'm feeling kinda bluish, greenish.
I can't feel my legs.
My hair is so sleek and short. Who cut my hair? My appointment with Andre is next Tuesday. If I get my hands on the person who cut my hair, ooh someone is going to be so sorry.
Where the h... are my slim fingers, toned arms, voluptuous thighs, pink cotton candy painted toenails? I'm sure i was wearing Jimmy Choo silver jewel studded high heeled sandals,very in this season. Someone stole my Vera Wang 2013 spring collection dress. Where is my body ?
Oh no. No...( Long drawn out No.) They hacked off my head. Where is the rest of me? God I need you right about now. Oh my god i knew they would get to me one day. It was only a matter of time. They have always been jealous of me. I heard them whispering and giggling behind my stunning back. Even Miguel the hot Latin mannequin said i had to watch my back. Just because I am way sexier than the other 3 mannequins, they decide to hack off my head and dump my perfect, flawless head into the toilet bowl.
I'm dead.
Tertia Marshall
tersiamarshall@yahoo.com
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