forced-fiction-2
type: Article
bloggerid: tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18505529.post-6649387906420521642
actor: http://www.blogger.com/profile/12227954801080178130
content: (What is forced fiction?) [Words were generated randomly. I swear I didn't expect them to be this topical.] Little Steve poked at the pile of circuitry in front of him with a screwdriver the length of his forearm. His nose wrinkled with concentration as he carefully extracted a string of spaghetti. His father would not be pleased. As usual, the aliens had come whilst his parents were sleeping. Last time it had only been the TV remote that they'd abducted. The time before that it was a standing lamp. This time, it was his father's brand new Macintosh computer. Steve did not want to be around for his dad's reaction, but being four-years- and-seven-months old, he struggled to find excuses to be absent from the house. So he would have to face the consequences. They always blamed him of course; not when things went missing, but when they came back. Because most of the time, things came back having been partially transformed into something tasty. The lamp had been embedded with chocolate chips. The insides of the remote, filled with ice cream. They never believed him when he explained about the aliens and their faulty teleporter. His mother just eyed him with suspicious terror, and his father talked in a stern voice about respecting peoples' things, and the cost of psychological counselling. Steve reached for tweezers in an attempt to extract flecks of bolognese. The machine had been quite literally turned inside out before being dosed with a hearty Italian meal. It may well be beyond salvation. He sighed, rolling his eyes at the spot in the night sky in which he knew their mothership resided. If their pattern of taking increasingly sophisticated devices was to continue, something must be done. Steve crept through the dark house and reached a tiny hand onto the desk in the study. The hand withdrew with his father's billfold clutched firmly inside. He extracted all of the notes, and returned the wallet to its previous position. Tiptoeing through the kitchen, tiles chilling…
name: Forced fiction 2: billfold, circuitry, macintosh, reaction, usual
published: 2011-08-25T23:34:00.006Z
tag: doing
tag: Doing
tag: fiction
tag: flash
tag: forced+fiction
tag: story
tag: writing
updated: 2013-03-23T02:18:03.400Z

fiction-hero
type: Article
bloggerid: tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18505529.post-114047751981265645
actor: http://www.blogger.com/profile/12227954801080178130
content: [February 2009] “Ours is but a small existence. We are but simple people. On this planet of ours, superheroes were but stories. Until today. We are gathered here to give thanks to the new Hero of Monarar, the almighty Ora. No-one knows from whence he came or where he goes. No-one knows how it comes that he moves so fast, predicts events with such precision. No-one knows why he has no tail, why his skin is dark, why his ears are sideways on his head. But it is to him we owe our utmost gratitude. It is he who freed us – who will continue to free us – from those that seek to imprison and enslave. “We must support him as he travels our planet, rescuing villages, saving families. “Here is to Ora the tailless, Ora the Hero of Monarar!⁂ The applause was deafening. “Why didn’t I take the gloves?⁂ Ora mumbled to himself. The rock was grazing his palms as he scrambled up the near-vertical cliff face. “Because you’re a moron,⁂ replied his subconscious. “Oh, I won’t need gloves. It’s not like I’ll be going anywhere cold, or, or doing any climbing. Moron.⁂ “Shuddup,⁂ Ora spat. “Either shuddup or get out of my head and help, why dontcha? Huh?⁂ “Hows about you keep climbing, how about that? Oh, watch out.⁂ The blast of a laser smacked into the rock an arm’s reach above his head, and Ora ducked in time to dodge the heap of dislodged stone that tumbled down onto him. “Oh some sixth sense you are. Warn me about a laser blast that’s already hit the rock. Nice work.⁂ “I warned you! It didn’t hit you, did it?⁂ “Waste of good coin you were. ‘Revolutionise your life’ my rear end. Just a pity you don’t come with a mute function,⁂ Ora continued to grumble as he climbed. His subconscious reluctantly helped guide his limbs, warning him before he put his weight on unsteady outcrops, or grasped at stones that were not well attached to the surface, and occasionally to hesitate in time to avoid the lasers of those that were targeting him. In the village, children were crying for their mothers. Mo…
name: Fiction: The Hero of Monarar
published: 2011-10-05T16:46:00.000Z
tag: fiction
tag: flash
tag: story
tag: writing
updated: 2013-03-23T02:17:12.752Z

flash
type: Collection
total items: 2

https://rhiaro.co.uk/tags/flash
type: CollectionPage
items: fiction-hero
items: forced-fiction-2
name: flash
part of: flash