Postal Prose: Postcard Flash Fiction

Stepping out into the known world, which is unknown to you, is scary and strange. There are many entranceways leading somewhere else, somewhere unseen by you. Where you will witness visions of resplendent buildings framed between the clouds and water. Who else is guilty of looking too far ahead and forgetting to raise their head? Or do you look too closely, missing the here-and-now? Don’t neglect the path or road that leads through history and today. The hardest achievement is to summit the peak and see another goal far into the future, which requires creating paths from a multitude of choices. Sometimes, the answer is simple: to flow with the choices, and embrace knowing that you are choosing roads that lead to the unknown. These choices represent a hope that you are building a foundation, which will withstand the construct of time. With each choice, new visions are unlocked. Leading somewhere unseen. *** Prompt: I am creating a coffee table book of my photographs from Germany and Fra...

 David couldn't believe what he was reading. Where did they even get the magazines to cut out the letters? Who does that? And the grainy picture? Why use a filter to make the face impossible to see? He knew who. His suspects were a couple of Gen-Xers. "Mom! Dad! What did you do?" He typed into the group text. "Where's Fluffy?" "With our hopes and dreams." Mom texted back. "Along with your future." Dad followed. David switched to video chat. "Stop being dramatic! Quitting my job is not a reason to break into my apartment and steal Fluffy." "We have a key." Mom popped on the screen. "For emergencies," chimed in off-camera. "Like this," Mom finished. "This is not an emergency! I already have another job starting Monday. Making more money." "Oh, thank god," Dad squeezed on screen. "You may come and get Fluffy," Mom stated holding up the meowing cat. "Please," Dad ...

The entrance to the tunnel was his only way out, according to the map. He stared at the rubble of collapsed stones while his radio cracked its lost connection. The water pilfered through the cracks, waterfalling bits of stone and muddy sludge into the abysmal cavern below. Ethan’s braced limbs shook as the water rushed away his body heat. A kraken’s roar ballooned and blocked out all sound. Only one thought penetrated. If he couldn’t go up, Ethan had to fight his way down. Find another exit. One that wasn’t on the map. Follow the water. *** First Line Generator: "The entrance to the tunnel was his only way out..."

 The girl shouldn't have been sacked, but if he said anything, then he'd be out. Not fired, but out of the good ol' boys' doorway that he'd just gotten his toe through. And the girl would still be out of the job. It wouldn't help her to speak up, and it would just make it worse for him. He scanned the faces of the employees. Many looked unhappy, but no one was taking a stand. Maybe he could send an email to management because this wasn't right. Or something more formal. A letter might be better. Anonymous, of course. *** First Line Generator: "The girl shouldn't have been sacked but if he said anything..."

 I hate red. Red creeps slowly. It's sticky and smears everywhere. I despise red. Red stains, and no amount of peroxide or bleach erases it. I loathe red. Red contaminates until all I see is red. Red lipstick. Red shoes. Red underwear. Red walls. Drip. Drip. Dripping red. *** Prompt: What a character wearing something red is thinking?

 The temptation to take one and slip it in my pocket was wrong—so wrong. But it was so cute, and it needed a good home. It looked like a boy, maybe a girl. Flipping over for nimble fingers, I saw it was definitely a boy. With bushy eyebrows, a beard, and hair swept back from the forehead, I named him Chewbacca and reached to put him in my pocket. Chewy chirped and licked my hand, causing me to detour and nuzzle him to my chest. "Would you like an adoption application? *** Prompt: What would you shoplift?