Free Flash Fiction Challenge

Can you write a complete story in 26 Sentences?  Here is your challenge:  Each sentence must begin with a sequential letter of the alphabet. You may take liberty with the X, using words starting with EX. Add your story to the comment section below.  Best stories to be published in a “Quick Reads” anthology. See how creative you can be!

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THE TRANSFER man runningAlone, he was forced to make a critical choice. Before leaving, he took one last look at the picture on the shelf, impulsively touched the face behind the glass tracing her face with his finger, then kissed it. Carefully, he removed the photo from its frame, lit a match and burned it to ash; dumped the remains in the trash. Dared not leave any damning evidence behind. Every fiber of his being hated what he knew he must do; it made his skin crawl but there was no turning back now. Focused on his task, he had to hurry before he changed his mind. Garrison opened the briefcase to ensure every item was securely enclosed in the envelope: untouched, unopened. Harsh winds blasted his face as he opened the door; winter had been cruel in more ways than one. It will be over soon, he assured himself. Judge Abernathy is counting on me to make the transfer. Keys in hand, the door closed behind him for the last time. Looking back, he quietly said goodbye to all he had ever known and loved. Maybe some good will come from this yet; if it did, it was long in coming. Neglecting his own safety, he accepted the task of Keeper; his only regret was leaving Kate behind. Only a small window was given: midnight, the twelfth of December. Perhaps that had special meaning – 12-12-12 – but he asked no questions, only arranged a meeting. Quickly, he hid the briefcase beneath a blanket and drove to the appointed spot. Restless, he scanned nervously for any onlookers; didn’t think things would escalate this far. Silently he waited for the contact to show. Twisted guts told him danger was imminent although another quick scan promised he was alone. Under the darkness, at 11:58 p.m., he saw a man approach, hidden beneath a wide-brimmed hat, uncertain in his steps, nervous, searching. Valuable goods retrieved, Garrison hailed the man, then handed the mysterious envelope to the faceless stranger. Whispering he asked, “Should I call the Judge and let him know?” Xerostomia overtook the man and he licked his lips; “No, tell no one… instead…” the man called over his shoulder, “…RUN!” “Yes sir, you can count on me; just glad to be done with it,” Garrison twitched as he watched him disappear in the blackness. Zooming in overhead, the single quiet drone targeted its victim and finished the task. _______________________________

Add your story below:  Deadline: 03/31/2015

8 thoughts on “Free Flash Fiction Challenge”

      1. Hi Candy. I got your email noting that the entry process has been revamped with a new deadline of March 31, 2015 if I wish to submit another. Do you mean in addition to “Final Flight,” which had been accepted, or instead of “Final Flight?” Also is the format the same; 26 sentences. Thanks, Patrick

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  1. Copy & Paste works for me, thanks, Patrick

    First Flight

    “Airspeed and altitude, airspeed and altitude,” rookie pilot Jason Bowers repeated nervously like his mantra as the weathered B-17 lumbered down the runway towards take-off shuddering and groaning as the thumping wheels left the ruddy airstrip. Below him the approach lights and bristling gun positions fell away as he adjusted his flaps and throttle for the long haul to Berlin. Chalky cliffs glowed in the moonlight as wisps of fog closed in on the vertical shoreline. Dover had been his home since childhood and now with the madness in full swing it was his turn to protect the land he loved with a load of flaming hell that he intended to drop on his target.

    Everything he had learned in flight school was about to be tested, and then some. Fokkers lay in wait just minutes ahead, treacherous, versatile and deadly. Germans had the engineering prowess, skill, and manufacturing capabilities to produce them by the thousands, each one a potential widow maker.

    How long until engagement was anybody’s guess. Instruments lit the dark panels as his eyes swept over each one of them looking for warnings and gathering flight information. Justice would be served this night even if it was the last thing he ever did. Killing defenseless civilians tore at his conscience, but the indoctrination that the instructors had provided eased at least part of the guilt; besides half of his family had already been lost in the London bombings so it was about revenge too.

    Looking ahead towards the dark horizon the dim lights of Berlin were now visible, no blackout, his plane apparently undetected. Movement caught the corner of his left eye producing an immediate jolt of adrenaline which resulted in supercharged nerves and a pounding heart beat as the Fokkers set their sights. Now he was confronted with another challenge, reaching the target before he became the target. One by one his crew processed the navigational checklists and the opened the bomb bay doors while the gunners steadied themselves for their defense. Pop-pop-popping sounds suddenly pierced the moment overpowering the drone of the mighty engines while searing hot lead began penetrating the fuselage, ricocheting through the cockpit. Quiet turned into horror as the instrument panels began smoking and a blast of cold air tore through the co-pilot’s window now spattered with brain matter.

    Riveted to his seat the young pilot screamed at the navigator for target coordinates. Somehow the bullets had missed the munitions and the release mechanisms were still intact as the remaining airman waited for the order to drop. Testing his physical endurance the pilot struggled with the yoke to maintain airspeed and altitude as the engines each began to fail, the fuel tanks bleeding flames.

    Utterly frustrated with his failure to reach the target Jason managed to speak calmly into his mouthpiece to the airman in the bomb bay with the command to drop the ordinance. “Verification of the target is impossible, but somebody is going to die tonight besides us.” When he felt the bombs release, his aircraft responded momentarily like a cork on a pond but then settled back into its thrashing spiral dive towards the landscape far below. “Xenophobes had this one right,” he muttered as the treetops seemed to leap upwards. “Yet the mission wasn’t a total failure, I hope,” he sighed bracing for impact, “though I’ll never really know will I?”

    “Zebra Tango Seven Seven copy your position please,” requested flight control at Dover HQ repeating over the airwaves, waiting for a reply that never came.

    Copyright 2014 Patrick A Granfors

    Liked by 1 person

    1. This is a wonderful story. Thank you for sharing.

      C.A. Simonson Author, *Love’s Journey Home, *available on Amazon.com or bn.com

      On Wed, Oct 15, 2014 at 10:14 PM, C.A. Simonson, Author/Artist wrote:

      >

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