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Flash Fiction Lives!

What it is

FFL is here to unite flash fiction writers across the globe. Flash fiction pieces are shorter than a short story, and have all kinds of crazy rules and formats. Read below for the guidelines for flash fiction for this group.

What are we doing here?

As well as submitting flash fiction, nano-fiction and short stories, we'll also throw out some monthly prompts or themes to get your brain juices a' boilin'.

What are the guidelines then boss?

Flash Fiction and Genre Folders

The recommended word count is 500 words or less for pieces submitted to a genre folder (Or the straight up Flash Fiction folder if you don't want to be caged in by a genre), but a maximum of 1000 words is the cut off point.

55's Folder

This is a separate folder for nano-fiction masochists who want to submit 55's, and this is strictly limited to a 55 word count... no more and no less!

Short Stories

The lines between flash fiction and short stories are blurred, and we don't want to miss out on great writing over silly rules, so anything over 1000 words can go in here if you want to show it off to the community!

Oh, make sure your piece is actually flash fiction and not a vignette. By this I mean, is your fiction a self contained piece with characters and some sort of plot progression or is it just a short segment dedicated to a specific character?

Finally, please do include a word count in the description for every piece. It's not like we are going to count to check up on you, but it is nice to know how many words you managed to get your piece across in.

And last of all

Spread the word dudes/dudettes. If you know people who are into writing fiction, and want a bit of a challenge; get them involved! The more writers we have, the stronger the community, and then we can hold competitions and such.

Featured

Sage
One morning she awoke to find workmen in her garden. They had already pulled up the sage bush, dumping it unceremoniously, root side up atop the rosemary, atop the basil so that it looked like a miniature baobab, or whatever they call those trees in Africa with the habit of growing upside down. She wished she could shrink down and scurry off into that diminutive landscape. She wished she could call to the workmen and tell them to get out of her yard, to tell them that sage could be burnt to ward off evil spirits. Instead, she let her teacup slip through her fingers. It greeted the floor with the expected crash, a hundred tiny shards singing aSage by ~mirovia
36 Comments
Moribund
He ordered Merlot and gestured far too often as he spoke. His monologue required little from her. An occasional head nod or feigned laughter. By the time he started talking about work, she found she had already forgotten his name, though she rechristened him Todd, a suitably banal moniker.

She spent the better part of the evening trying to turn off the language centers of her brain. Human speech is, after all, intercepted on its way to the auditory processing centers and routed directly to Brocca's area, the part of the brain responsible for deriving meaning from spoken word. Because of this, she thought, we never truly hear human speech. ItMoribund by ~mirovia
24 Comments
7 The Troll'Look, just let us cross the bridge, will you?'

The troll had come out of nowhere. One minute it was me, my squire, and our steeds, an endless landscape of summer pasture before us, a few innocent sheep on the hillside, and a stripling of a stream dazzling sunlight off its sheer surface.

Then the troll was on the bridge and wouldn't let us pass.

The bridge was very narrow and the troll was so fat his sides scraped either wall. Stones crumbled off and skittered into the water with musical 'plops' as he moved.

'RAAAAAAAAARRGH!' he raged, which we took to mean 'no'.

'Why on earth not?'

The troll was squat and greyish with big blobby eyes l7 The Troll by `CrumpetsHarvey
18 Comments
Night Trains“I fell asleep for the first time on a train when I was seven.” The admission wasn’t as painful now as the experience had been at the time. “When I woke up, there was nobody there.”

“Nobody?” She intoned as though asking a question, but her facial expression showed she was merely repeating the fact.

“Nobody. My parents, the other passengers, even the old conductor with the funny hat. Gone.” I fidgeted at the memory, it was faded but still uncomfortable. “I walked from one end of that train to the other but never saw another soul. I re-found my seat after a while and eventually dozed off, andNight Trains by `SRSmith
54 Comments
Exceptional work.
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Featured
Sage
One morning she awoke to find workmen in her garden. They had already pulled up the sage bush, dumping it unceremoniously, root side up atop the rosemary, atop the basil so that it looked like a miniature baobab, or whatever they call those trees in Africa with the habit of growing upside down. She wished she could shrink down and scurry off into that diminutive landscape. She wished she could call to the workmen and tell them to get out of her yard, to tell them that sage could be burnt to ward off evil spirits. Instead, she let her teacup slip through her fingers. It greeted the floor with the expected crash, a hundred tiny shards singing aSage by ~mirovia
Moribund
He ordered Merlot and gestured far too often as he spoke. His monologue required little from her. An occasional head nod or feigned laughter. By the time he started talking about work, she found she had already forgotten his name, though she rechristened him Todd, a suitably banal moniker.

She spent the better part of the evening trying to turn off the language centers of her brain. Human speech is, after all, intercepted on its way to the auditory processing centers and routed directly to Brocca's area, the part of the brain responsible for deriving meaning from spoken word. Because of this, she thought, we never truly hear human speech. ItMoribund by ~mirovia
7 The Troll'Look, just let us cross the bridge, will you?'

The troll had come out of nowhere. One minute it was me, my squire, and our steeds, an endless landscape of summer pasture before us, a few innocent sheep on the hillside, and a stripling of a stream dazzling sunlight off its sheer surface.

Then the troll was on the bridge and wouldn't let us pass.

The bridge was very narrow and the troll was so fat his sides scraped either wall. Stones crumbled off and skittered into the water with musical 'plops' as he moved.

'RAAAAAAAAARRGH!' he raged, which we took to mean 'no'.

'Why on earth not?'

The troll was squat and greyish with big blobby eyes l7 The Troll by `CrumpetsHarvey
Night Trains“I fell asleep for the first time on a train when I was seven.” The admission wasn’t as painful now as the experience had been at the time. “When I woke up, there was nobody there.”

“Nobody?” She intoned as though asking a question, but her facial expression showed she was merely repeating the fact.

“Nobody. My parents, the other passengers, even the old conductor with the funny hat. Gone.” I fidgeted at the memory, it was faded but still uncomfortable. “I walked from one end of that train to the other but never saw another soul. I re-found my seat after a while and eventually dozed off, andNight Trains by `SRSmith
Featured
Flash Fiction
what fear is.Lainey has been dating the same man for a while now.  If you ask me what he does for a living, I won't be able to give you much of a straight answer.  My theories revolve around some kind of corner office with a rotating door of lawyers and accountants.  He may not even know what he does on the twenty-seventh floor.

Lainey has her qualms about the relationship already, as the early throes of the tryst begin to take the serious turn.  It's about time.

"More like we're dating only one day of the week!" she'll exclaim.  "He's spending the rest of the week behind his desk!"

I asked her a few weeks ago, when the problem first surfaced, if she'swhat fear is. by *Laura-Lie
The SphinxShe was a beautiful woman. In parts. Features of divine origin, breasts that would provoke envy in any plastic blonde. The rest of her was… leonine. Lot of body hair and those nails looked sharp. Her purpose was to ask the riddle. "What am I looking for?" No-one could enter the company without giving the answer. And no-one had entered for quite some time. The management was becoming desperate.

She checked her make-up in the desktop mirror and consulted her notes. Three interviews before lunch. No need to rush. Snacking on the hopefuls was enough to sustain her. The first was handsome and confident. She was tempted to let him straight throughThe Sphinx by *SCFrankles
The ShepherdAt first Jim's adrenaline-drenched mind thought the station was called ST CHAOS. However, the sign rapidly resolved itself into the more likely ST CHADS. The train had abruptly terminated. The passengers were herded towards the bridge that led to the other platforms and then abandoned. Jim didn't decipher the tannoy announcement but he knew better than to ask for help. He would follow everybody else.

He took the steps too quickly. As he reached the top, he tripped. A little shaken, he stopped and waited until he felt ready to go on. He contemplated his surroundings. To his right was the track that led back home. To his left, the track that lThe Shepherd by *SCFrankles
To Each His Own.It started to pour freezing rain last night in the city.  Grey skies turned black and the wind began to whip everything around into a vortex of leaves and detritus.  Get caught in one, and you're toast.

Cheeks were stained red by the cold, marred with frozen water propelled by the breath of the gods, but there were still smiles on our faces.  There was still a sliver of the moon somewhere behind the darkened clouds, and past it, the stars.

Ice pellets pounded against the basement windows of a fifteen-unit apartment building.  A little colder, and it would have been the first snowfall of the season.  Regardless, the sound still lulled us to To Each His Own. by *Laura-Lie
Flash Fiction
55's
55's
Short Stories
Short Stories
Comedy
Scene"This relationship's a farce!" he yelled and exited angrily.

"That's the closet," she said and waited for him to come out.Scene by *SCFrankles
She doesn't cry anymore"I guess I just moved on."She doesn't cry anymore by ~AmeliadosSantos
Moribund
He ordered Merlot and gestured far too often as he spoke. His monologue required little from her. An occasional head nod or feigned laughter. By the time he started talking about work, she found she had already forgotten his name, though she rechristened him Todd, a suitably banal moniker.

She spent the better part of the evening trying to turn off the language centers of her brain. Human speech is, after all, intercepted on its way to the auditory processing centers and routed directly to Brocca's area, the part of the brain responsible for deriving meaning from spoken word. Because of this, she thought, we never truly hear human speech. ItMoribund by ~mirovia
ActorsIt's always been a mystery to me how in England even the most insulated of buildings somehow manage to be damp. The wooden bench that I was sitting on seemed to be creaking in protest like the sturdy planks of a ship, and if I could have rowed away on it, I would have. It was freezing – that most intemperate of months, May, and in London the air was thick with the scent of despair and black pessimism that infuses the English daily. I'd never wanted more to be back in New York.

In fact, my very soul seemed damp, almost as if it was outside in the rain that streaked down the windows of the court-room, slug-trails of moisture that came dowActors by ~Elsie-Black
Comedy
Drama
Drama
Fantasy
Fantasy
Horror
Horror
Romance
Nonsense    The moon was full, and there wasn't a cloud in sight, the night we met at the river parade.  You asked me to go for a walk, and we sat on a bench away from the crowd, and you held my hands to keep away the cold. As the fireworks exploded overhead, I asked you if you believed in silly things like fairies, and ghosts, and most of all love at first sight.  I'll never forget the way you looked at me when you whispered, "On a night like this, it's possible to believe in all sorts of nonsense," and as the sky lit up, you kissed me with a passion I'd never known before.
    We fell in Nonsense by =dark-harou
AppassionataPlay me a waltz, loud, and let it rumble across the miles. Breathe life back into corpses and let their spirits do the talking. Chopin can sweettalk me easy, we both know that, and Beethoven is that brooding whisper in my ear. Play me a waltz because sound travels through oceans of smog and human souls and arid sky. Make me dream of concert halls and the vineyard on the coast, and paperbacks lying amid scraps of masterpieces yet to be put together. Remind me how the sea tastes. Remind me of the thunderstorms we haven't seen, and pens we haven't drained. Tell my fortune in C sharp minor and let the low notes resonate inside my chest and set myAppassionata by ~disrhythmic
A glimpse into a fifty-year-old love"Honey, dinner is ready!" She called from the kitchen while serving the table. It was set for only two people and it was a very simple meal, free of big details and complexities. Just the essential to  let them not be hungry and make them strong enough for the night.

He came walking with a little bit of difficulty, dragging his damaged leg, getting out of his studio and passing through the corridor. As it was his habit, when he walked by the photographies, he let his fingers caress the frames and pictures with all his tenderness.

When he walked into the kitchen, he saw her filling up one of the plates with food. He sighed. Age didA glimpse into a fifty-year-old love by ~AmeliadosSantos
Battle for the Bulge by ~growinluvhandles
Romance
Science Fiction
deviation in storage by ~DawnArdent
take me to the stars.Fable 9 has been in operation for three years now, though I've been trying to bargain with the Solar System Committee for the last year for some much-needed upgrades.  I've seen the ships they send to Saturn, and god only knows how much money they pour into Triton.  The only thing that really seems to work around here is the simulated gravity, though we only keep it on in the sleeping and eating areas.

I have my conspiracies that the committee chooses to ignore me because I'm a woman, but that's getting into another argument entirely.

I work in zero gravity, before a five-by-ten viewing window that overlooks the serene Uranian cloud tops.  take me to the stars. by *Laura-Lie
90482 OrcusThere is a tape deck in the pod, but who uses tapes anymore?  They sent some with me, mostly big bands from a time long before my own.  Tapes will give you something to do, Franklin told me before I was on my own in space.  If they get ruined, you can just rewind them by hand.  I have been drifting for at least a week on my own after ejection.  They told me that I couldn't get any closer to the target.  I needed to know what seven days in darkness was like because there was a high probability that it would be that long until they could pick me up from the surface.

I'm rewinding a tr90482 Orcus by *Laura-Lie
Flash Fiction: Good Business       “We're finished, Madame.  How do you feel?”
      The sound of knuckles popping echoed through the dilapidated ballroom.  The silver chamber set up in the center hissed loudly as it opened.
      “I feel.... ah...”  A woman breathed deeply, then sighed happily.  “I feel fantastic.”  Slowly she stepped from the blinding lights inside the chamber, dressed in a black smock.
      “Would you like to see your new body?”  A tall man in a grey uniform stepped forward, motioning towards one of the few mirrored walls that hadn't been smashed.  “Most of our clients don't care, but I knew you'd lFlash Fiction: Good Business by ~PheonixKarr
Science Fiction
Vignettes
The SurroundWarm flesh twitched beneath him, echoing the steady vibrations of his own skin. His breath came uneven and broken in his ears. The warmth of the spilled blood, he could see, had begun to soak the ground; the sharp scent of it filled the air as did the keening of the wind across the hills and through the trees. It came to him like the cry of a woman at her finish. He shivered from both the wind against his dampened skin and the spectral wail.

His arms felt boneless, his legs trembled and his lungs burned from exertion, but he roused himself from his stupor. His right hand still held onto his knife, the handle of it pressed firmly into his palThe Surround by ~Magnius159
ChloeChloe was born in the pouring rain and blinding dark, under a thunderstorm that cut power to five counties and lingered for days. Her first memories were damp and earthy and fresh--watercolor paintings of wildflower fields, thunderheads, and pale yellow dawns.
She grew up with summers swimming in lurid heat and trembling cicada calls; in winters soft with snowfall and tree limbs upraised to the icy light. She was a tiny sun in herself, glowing effortlessly. Plants reached up to her, swayed with her voice. Given enough space and enough time, her hands could have delved into the earth and come back up trailing with trees and vines, with berries falling from her fingertips and thick pale roots curled around her wrists.
I met Chloe in the middle of one electric summer, when the heat was aggressively breathtaking and I had to continuously swipe sweat from my eyelashes. Chloe was a breath of undying spring--cool to the touch. She tasted like almonds and cinnamon and clean, wet dirt, and likeChloe by ~disrhythmic
A Love Story in Four Actsi.
     I loved a blacksmith once, back when the sand still clogged up my soul. It was only far after that I began to love the desert too.
ii.
     Underneath the casual noise--glass on wood, heat-smothered conversation, worn cards slapped down in careful triumph--there was this low, thrumming quiet that wouldn't be broken. He spoke in sepia undertones. "We're getting out."
iii.
     Hot iron smells like hot blood, like blood that's been poured out under the white Arizona sun. It's something you don't forget easy, like the taste of whiskey or the plasma patterns left on your eyelids after watching fire all night. It sticks.
v.
      My childhood was fed on medical books, and I've got this pain right behind my eyes and I wonder if this is what it feels like being lobotomized. Of course the brain has no nerve endings, but the hurt has to manifest itself somewhere.A Love Story in Four Acts by ~disrhythmic
Hunger Since his childhood, Raffe recalled at every meal, roasted pork or game and fried fish, meat pies, pottage, and fresh, dried and preserved fruits. The platters were laid out in proper order between the two facing rows at the table. Cakes and biscuits were offered to him after school and before supper.

"We remember what it was like to be hungry," the maids had said with such puzzling despondency.

"You are so fortunate," another maid would exclaim. Or had it been the butler? Perhaps it had been both. Either way, he couldn't comprehend it. Their excessive preoccupation with this concept. And they often used the notion in conjunction with deHunger by ~Magnius159
Vignettes
Creation 1
Creation 1
Creation 2
Rocketeering for WhalesYou can't even imagine the horror on the faces of those onlookers. By two in the afternoon, a crowd had gathered at the pool side, and were in awe of the disaster unfolding. Nobody knew how or when it had happened, but a five and a half ton killer whale named Ojumbi was lodged in the rafters. The interior pool was designed with whale containment in mind, and a sixty foot high ceiling seemed more than adequate for both a whale and the staggered seating.

Sarah, who was primarily in charge of Ojumbi, had passed out by the poolside, and a number of maintenance guys were at a loss as to how to get the poor creature down from up there. The whale mRocketeering for Whales by ~DelectableTea
The FountainThere were sixteen tall windows. She'd counted them over and over when she was small, her chubby finger outstretched as she spun in tiny circles. Eight walls, sixteen windows, thirty-two black curtains—the arithmetic of her childhood.

"Eight window seats, Daddy. Eight buttons on each—sixty-four. I counted."

The fountain stood dry and dead-center in the middle of the black and white tiles. Eight sides, eight lion-mouth spouts. Sixteen limestone mermaids poised gracefully around the edge. Four thousand and ninety-six blue tiles. Five hundred and twelve white.

And two doors. Always the two doors, huge and solid and radiating a senseThe Fountain by ~disrhythmic
A Witch: A Dream A scream rent the air. It was chilling to hear, and many who heard it shivered. They knew the cause of the scream. Someone was being sent to the gallows again, for the accusation of witchcraft.

"It's senseless." A sad voice whispered. "It's senseless." The voice repeated.

"Maybe." A crackle answered her. "But it still happens. You stupid humans still hurt each other, no matter how senseless it is.  Especially  with how senseless it is." The bird corrected itself.

"Still-" The girl started, before she fell silent. What could she say? She wasn't one of them. She didn't understand their reasons for killing innocents. She didn't understandA Witch: A Dream by ~InTheStarryNightSky
Creation 2
Creation 3
In the Photo Frame"In a faded photograph, there are four people. Day after day they look after the frame in which they live, greeting the dust particles that settle on the crystalline walls of their house. They are a family – sepia skinned and with wrinkled crows feet around their coppered eyes. A set of old siblings – three girls and a boy.
The boy's name is Henry, or at least that was the name of the human he represents. Did you believe that photos are literal copies? No, a photograph is deep magic – a flash of white-hot light that brings a new life into existence. These creatures are complacent and kindly – small, and with minds to matIn the Photo Frame by ~Elsie-Black
Not What You Thought InsidePassing the park a few blocks away was always the most difficult part of getting to the corner store.  Stuart was one reason.  The other was Homeless Hobo Hank.  In Ralph's twelve-year-old mind, a class bully was less scary than what the other kids speculated might be hiding under the blankets covering Hank's shopping cart.  But not by much.  Besides, he could never let on that he was scared by Hank, no matter how allegedly murderous he was.  He didn't need more grief from Stuart if he found out.  This afternoon he saw neither.  He turned the corner and went into the store.

He was relieved to see Max behind the counter, head down in a textboNot What You Thought Inside by ~emptyxreturns
Of ErdeFrom Erde, there stood a country divided. Battles were fought, won and lost, yet peace remained unattained. On the long awaited date of the twentieth day of the seventh month, word of the birth of a babe crossed all of Grianainn. Peasants, priests and kings waited for the child's coming of age. During these years, battles ceased and a lull fell over the land. Hence, the child's birth was taken as a good omen.

When at last, on the child's two and twelfth year, she delivered to them the words of the gods. The Martyan child spoke of plague, drought and endless bloodshed. In desperation, they held a council and concluded they would unite the fivOf Erde by ~Magnius159
Creation 3
Creation 4
Creation 4
Creation 5
Creation 5

#FlashFictionDies

:icondelectabletea:

Sorry my people, I can't keep up with Deviantart these days so will have to close the group if nobody volunteers to take it over.

DT x
1 Comment
#FlashFictionDies April 18 1 Comment No Favourites
More Journal Entries

Writer's Resources

The following are a collection of great resources for aspiring authors of flash fiction, and writing in general.

Tips For Writing Flash Fiction by `SRSmith with excerpts by Kathy Kachelries

Creating Voice by `CrumpetsHarvey

Guide to (UK) Punctuation By Larry Trask

Affiliates

:iconmowidra::iconnapowrimo2012::icontransliterations:

Deviants

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:iconabalex:
~ABAlex Apr 8, 2013  New member
Also, I added "The Party" a few days ago and haven't gotten any messages. Is it still being considered?
Reply
:iconabalex:
~ABAlex Apr 8, 2013  New member
Thanks for accepting me in!
Reply
:iconohineedtea:
=OHiNeedTea Mar 31, 2013  Student Writer
Hey, i've submitted a requested to join the group, please accept
Reply
:iconsurrealgrotesque77:
~SurrealGrotesque77 Sep 21, 2012  Student Artist
If you are interested I am going a cyberpunk issue of my magazine, Surreal Grotesque (www.surrealgrotesque.com) and seeking out submissions, anything from 500-2500 words. Or art pieces of a Strange weird, bizarre, surreal, grotesque, mechanical, dystopic nature. Send any subs to: Surrealgrotesque77@hotmail.com. I also have a group here on deviantart: [link]
Reply
:iconsorbetera:
~Sorbetera Aug 13, 2012  Hobbyist Writer
Hi! I made an entry for Creation 5. I wonder how I can submit? :)
Reply
:icondelectabletea:
~DelectableTea Aug 14, 2012
There is an option to submit to group on your deviation when you publish it to DA. There will be a little box to let you choose which folder and you just pick the folder called creation 5!

And welcome! :)
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:iconsorbetera:
~Sorbetera Aug 14, 2012  Hobbyist Writer
Cool! Thank you for accepting me! :D
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:icontofu-owns-a-big-grin:
Mood: Love ~ToFu-owns-a-big-grin Jun 16, 2012  Student Traditional Artist
Dear FlashFictionLives! Thanks for picking up my new creative writing group ATTACK!-WritingPrompts as an affiliate it is very much appreciated!
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:icondelectabletea:
~DelectableTea Jun 16, 2012
We got to stick together yo!
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:icontofu-owns-a-big-grin:
~ToFu-owns-a-big-grin Jun 26, 2012  Student Traditional Artist
Werd. :nod:
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