#fff44

[flashfictionfridayofficial]

Get some sunscreen because it is getting Flashy. It’s Flash Fic Friday, baby!🌞🌟⚡

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Here come the lovely, creepy, funny, philosophic and entertaining flash fics of last week.💕💕💕

Gift of the Gods – by @writeurheartout Gift of the Gods – by @houser-of-stories​ Waiting – by @inexorableblob​ The Ascended – by @stories-by-rie​ Gift of the Gods – by  @goblin-writer​ The Sculpture – by @glowingmechanicalheart​ The Gift of the Gods – by @sinnerssaintsandcomplaints​ The Benevolent Gods – by @writingcuredmyfrown​ That Day – by @itsokaytobefreak​ Ticking Down – by @onceuponanaromantic​ Introductions – by @writingamongthecoloredroses​ A welcomed gift – by  @elycwinters​ Confession, power and tears – by @wolfishwrites​ The Awakening – by @fields-of-ink​ Gift of the Gods – by  @procrastinatingwriter05​ Hope is a flower – by @booksnotbookies​ Gift of the Gods – by @corav1a​ Gift of the Gods – by @pheita​ God's Gift to Us – by  @cirianne​ The Path to Pyrit – by @goodbye-yellow-carnation​ Scars – by @writingamongthecoloredroses​ Thank you everybody for participating !!! If we missed any entry last week let us know and send us a message.

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Ready for the new prompt? Getting antsy? Here we are

[Banner in different gray tones that says FFF44 Hollow Walls]

Where are these hollow walls? Is there something in between? Is it maybe just metaphorical? Like always:

Let us know and get your pens and pc, write like no one is watching you. And don’t forget to turn on the notifications! Good luck little inklings !  

The Collective⚡⚡⚡⚡

THE FFF TAGLIST

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[prettyboyhere]

Hollow Walls and Steely Bars

@flashfictionfridayofficial

His voice bounced off the walls that day, as they usually did when he heard my first footsteps. 

How are you today?

His voice through the walls and metal bars is the gentlest I’ve heard since finding myself in here. I can’t even imagine what a regular voice sounds like, what someone’s voice in your ear tastes like, but his felt like sanity. 

I’m alive.

Back then, I took that phrase for granted. I realise now I said it because I needed to make sure of it every day. I think without his voice through bouncing around in his cell, in my cell, in the little path in front of us, I might have faded into a ghost already.

Six months in here and we had almost run out of polite things to say.

Do you know any songs?

His words came out too fast and I almost didn’t catch them. But I’m a starved man who lets no scrap of food go wasted; every sound he uttered, I absorbed. 

Three months into our stay, I realised I couldn’t remember when last I laughed. I could only cry after that realisation because there was no other way to feel something, anything. Then, I made a comment about the meal they’d brought us that day, and he laughed. It was an airy sound, short, but honest. It sounded like being alive. 

Maybe he needed to be able to hear a song that wasn’t the clink of the lock opening or the clatter of the meal. 

Yeah. I walked to the bars keeping me in here. They’re sturdy, but they probably could get loose if you tried hard enough. But the guard would just walk in, kick the air out of your chest and paint you with so many bruises you forgot about the point of escape.

These hollows walls and steely bars meant we couldn’t see anything except our nests and four walls. However, when we spoke, the walls felt alive and the bars almost sang. You can only ever see what’s in front of you. Peripheral vision doesn’t exist in this cell. 

But if you listen, you can see around any corner.

Babe. There’s something tragic about you. Something so magic about you. Don’t you agree? 

They’re the words of a song I played on repeat. I stutter halfway, not sure of the rest of the words.

Just sing it again. Please.

I did. 

After the third time, his voice whispers into the hallway.

Something so magic about you. 

I remember how this cell used to sing. 

A few days after the singing began, the humanised boulder took out his tinkling set of keys, clinked and clunked my sanity’s cell open, clunked and clinked his cell closed.

At the end, there were no words, no laughs. Only his soft footfalls. I imagine he had a steely gaze. I imagine he met the other side of the door with a straight spine. I can only imagine.

It’s a day later, and I realise these hollow walls and steely bars won’t ask if I’m alive, and the only sound then, is broken sobs.

(552 words)

[procrastinatingwriter05]

Hollow Wallz

The abandoned house echoed with the sounds of footsteps. The hollow walls groaned and the floor creaked, but it would work nonetheless.

Memories had long failed her, and she knew not where she had come from. No one did. All anyone knew is that one man claimed she had fallen from the sky.

But that's ridiculous. People don't fall from the sky.

She ran her fingers along the remnants of furniture, the trails of picked up dust remaining behind. How peculiar, that someone would abandon this house.

She did away with the dust on her fingers and continued to the next room.

She had started in the dining room, it seemed, and now was in the kitchen. How peculiar. She pulled out her phone and checked the time.

[7:34 PM]

She nodded silently to herself. She could get a few more minutes of exploration before returning home.

The floors creaked and the hollow walls groaned. The footsteps echoed within.

When the time had finally come, she had found nothing quite of interest, so she slipped out the way she came.

With no memories of her own, she found it interesting to explore and make new ones, perhaps a part of her hoping to find some old ones along the way. While that had been a little less than successful, the new memories she made always tended to be interesting.

When she had arrived home, her body was telling her to do one thing and one thing only. Sleep. At this point, it had been nothing to worry of, for that urge was a common one. She migrated into her room, sinking into her bed and huddling beneath the covers.

Her dreams were vivid that night, though not of the ever-common hollowed walls and creaking floors that she explored. It was quite the peculiar dream.

It was a voice in the white void, calling for her.

"...Me..."

"...Help..."

...

"...Help me..."

What a peculiar dream indeed.

(@flashfictionfridayofficial)

[inexorableblob]

Easily Broken Walls

For @flashfictionfridayofficial​ and this week’s prompt, it’s not much, but it’s something.

139 words.  

It's spring, the new season, the time for cleaning, everybody knew that.  I knew that.  I didn't need any prompting, no soft words of encouragement, no gentle prodding to get the job done.

I know the mess needs to go.  It can't wait, it'll just get worse if I let the work wait. I open the closet door and look around.  A little dust, maybe, but otherwise just like I left it when I got out the suit.

The double coat hanger is still where I dropped it in my hurry to leave last time I had been in here to get the coat that had been hanging on it, leaving the rest behind.

I pick the pants up off the floor, the dust is stinging my eyes, I have to use something to wipe them.

The suit had been his favorite. 

[fields-of-ink]

Once again, thanks to the lovely peeps at @flashfictionfridayofficial​ for this wonderfuly weekly event!

A bit of a longer one this time around. I like playing around with Zephyr’s world: since it’s still in development, I have lots of freedom!

Title: The Corridor (623 words)

Warnings: it could be a bit claustrophobic in the beginning?

Zephyr always had a knack for the mysterious. The gloomy lights of the abandoned factory near home, the old life of a cottage in the forest buried by leaves and grass, the solitude of the ruins of an ancient city. She remembered her mother continously reminding her to be careful, but never once stopping her during her adventures.

But that place was nothing like anything she had ever seen nor felt. Opaque walls and floors, it seemed like she was in a room filled with dirty mirrors. "Is anybody here?" Her voice's echo glistened in the glass-like place, making it reverberate, like waves in the sea. "Huh. That looks cool." A small wave next to her, the voice wasn't loud enough.

She begun to walk. She didn't exactly know what to do, but if there was one thing Zephyr hated was sitting still. Her steps echoed in that foreign place, little waves following her feet at each step, smoky reflections that followed her from the walls.

"This must be the Corridor", she thought. "The place that exists between our world and the Spirit's world." She had no idea what it looked like. Nobody ever did, and the Spirits were silent creatures, a sworn oath that prohibited them from talking about their homeplace. Actually, the Corridor itself was mostly an urban legend. "If I were to write a book about this I'd become famous", she smirked.

She continued walking. The place was devoid of any feelings, except for the constant echo of the footsteps. No wind, no rustling, no movement. Everything was perfectly still, hidden behind a smoky fog, the opaque surfaces that gave the illusion of not being alone. "Only an illusion, though. Who would have thought I'd start missing annoying Lufur?"

She quickened her steps. The echoes batted like rain drops in her ears, until she saw a difference in the landscape. A light. A white blinding light. Zephyr stopped, dumbfounded, looking at it. "I guess soon it will be the moment of truth. Either I will end up... somewhere, or I'll be born again", she pressed her lips together. "I hope I'll be reborn as one of Sorun's clan. Speaking to animals sounds pretty cool." With a shrug of her shoulders, she jumped towards the light.

A voice was calling out to her, but she couldn't open her eyes. A blinding light mad it difficult, hurting her. "Zephyr, wake up!" The hoarse voice of Lufur snapped her mind. She stood up, the white feathers of her companion a salve for her eyes and mind. "Lufur!" "Oh, you're finally awake. You had me worried." "What happened?" Zephyr stood up in tentative moves, until she was on her feet again. A crowd of worried gazes was looking at her, and Zephyr recognized a few of them as old customers. "You passed out. We were at the Shrine and..." "Oh yeah, I remember that... We even met the Spirit there." Lufur's ears perked up: "Hm? No, we didn't." "... We didn't?" "You passed out shortly after entering the Shrine." Zephyr raised her eyebrows. Her memories told her otherwise. She looked at the distant peak of one of the Shrine's towers. A flaming gaze pierced her mind, frozing her in place.

You have received what you were looking for. Turn back and never return.

Zephyr, without noticing, checked her pocket. Her hands grasped an hard item. She retrieved it: a purple stone, perfectly round. Indeed, the thing she was looking for. She looked at the sky again, her mind trying to wrap what just had happened, but at the thought of the fiery gaze, she just nodded, and put the stone back in her pocket, under Lufur’s questioning gaze.

[starklyscifi]

The Walls Are Full of Regrets

I deserve this. I deserve to sit here and be swallowed alive as the spaces in between grow closer and closer.

The repeating thought in his head really ought to be more disturbing. But it was hard to disturb what was already numb. He took a deep breath, trying to shaking the insanity loose, and sorted through the mail in his hands.

Bill.

Junk.

Bill.

Advertisement for tires.

Another bill.

The letter caught him by surprise. The yellow envelope seemed as old as the man it came from. His great uncle was nothing if not persistent. The only person more persistent was the great aunt who’d dragged said uncle to Europe on an extended vacation. He read the letter twice. Not taking that because why would he ever leave all this? Sunny, beautiful apartment in the city and a high paying job with a defense contractor. He tossed the offer to move and take care of their house in the middle of nowhere Virginia in the trash. On top of the others.

He really needed to take out the trash.

Home. Work. Home. Work a little bit later. Home. Phone call from the boss.

He really hadn’t bought a lot of furniture. Or much else to make the house look like a home. The visitors were less and less, and more spaced out. That was all right. He had the voices in the walls.

The remind him. To issue penance.

Further calls from the boss, the concern edging out the irritation. Knocks on the door that went unanswered. And then the knocking that wouldn’t go away.

It was Monty. Because of course it was. The solider home from the war and handling it in all the right ways. Just enough crazy, but tucked away neatly after a few months. Before anyone got uncomfortable. But Jack knew his secret.

The concern on his face added twenty years, crows feet and forehead wrinkles deepening.

“You don’t look okay.”

Jack forced the smile bigger. “Not great, but who among us is?”

The old in-joke brought a chuckle to his buddy’s face, and leeched some of the tension out of the room. Monty still insisted on wearing out his welcome, and dragging Jack to therapy for weeks after that. Things got better, for a spell.

And then Monty left. Chasing a woman and a job—and a dream of less haunted spaces. Just because he functioned better than Jack in modern society didn’t make his eyes any more sane. Things slowly crumbled after that.

Work. Home. Work. Missed therapy appointment. Work. Home. Still home.

The night the walls started coming alive, spilling out the spirits within, he tried to stave it off with half a bottle of whiskey. The whiskey made it worse. Added colors and sounds to the dead soldiers staring back. The dead civilians holding court. Geneva didn’t consider orders an excuse and neither did the dead. On either side.

And that was the moment the walls hollowed and poured out the voices. Every screaming memory from four years forcing themselves back down his throat.

Finally came the coup de grace, crawling out of the jagged hole and sending Jack scrambling further back against the cabinets. A frozen moment, no pause button needed to reflect reality. The day he’d choked, watching bullets fly. Doing nothing but curling his hand tighter around his gun. But no movement. No breath. Just corpses piling up. And then Monty ripped him from the ground, taking a bullet to the knee that had Jack’s name on it.

It left him lying on the kitchen floor, chest heaving as everything he’d tried to pour out of his soul blackened it all over again. Daylight cracked through the window, breaking over the countertop and onto the hunch form on the floor.

Nowhere is calling. The walls are full of my regrets—and I’ve had exactly enough of them.

His boss graciously let him quit, and he used the severance pay to break his lease. When he set foot in his great uncle’s house, the dust made him cough. He breathed deep, letting it settle in.

@flashfictionfridayofficial​

[enchanted-lightning-aes]

The Vacant Disturbance

A/N: Another angsty ficlet delivered and *almost* delayed.

With Zari Tomaz as the main character here, because I find her backstory interesting. Takes place around LoT s3, probably before 3x08. I’ll Once again, word count proved to be a challenge. *sighs*

Word Count: 593

TW: depiction of a panic attack, implied survivor’s guilt

***

Engines thrummed in a pattern when a teal glow fell over to a figure ambling into the room. An uncanny silence and lack of activity turned the entire ship into a spectral of some sort.

Walking past floor vents, she plopped down onto a platform with a yawn.

After getting frustrated about being unable to sleep, Zari had decided to visit the engine room. Because it was only one of the few places, where she could think. She was still trying to adjust to live in the Waverider for a meantime.

For a temporary hide-out before she got back to 2042.

Zari shuddered, shaking her head.

Leaving it had been an easy choice, so she couldn't be more than thankful to be here. Yeah, the team had gotten on her nerves at times yet it had been better than that fucked up dystopian reality awaiting her.

She settled her gaze at silver-blue alloy walls, pushing some pieces of her hair back with a scoff.

At least, nothing could be wor—

Red wavering lights streaked through her mind, displaying time of the anti-meta curfew. In instinct, she threw a hand up to shield her face. Memories struck her, paralyzing her.

In a back of her mind, she was running through streets, and leaped towards a direction of a murky alleyway. Searching, desperate for a way to survive. To escape from calls of loud sirens, A.R.G.U.S, and anything else determined to hunt her down.

Behrad. . . her parents. . . she had abandoned them all. To their demises. She let it happen.

She hadn't made to their sanctuary before it was all gone.

Zari trembled under those voices screaming, piercing and raucous. Pain tightened her throat and she couldn't swallow.

Her mistakes, her regrets, all bad choices that she had done, replayed in her mind in a loop. She had screwed everything up and she didn't deserve to be here. Alive and breathing. Far away from danger that costed her family's lives.

As she pulled her knees up, she pressed her hands at her ears. She tried on concentrating to block everything out.

No, no, no. She could fix this. It was a main reason she joined the crew in the first place. Time travel provided an opportunity for her to save her family. To prevent those bad things, which ever happened to them.

Zari's heart thumped hard against her chest as if strong enough to break her rib-cage.

The hollow walls were closing in around her, close enough to crush her.

A low, continuous noise snapped her out of her thoughts, nearly freaking her out.

All of her senses began rushing back to her along with relief. She sighed and dropped her shoulders. The totem flickered with a faint glow before it turned dim again. She countered a quelling impulse to snatch it off her neck. Or to throw it in a nearest window.

Sometimes, she hated what it represented and it suffocated her to try thinking about it.

She should just take a long breather. Maybe it might help her to feel better.

With her eyes falling shut, she inhaled and exhaled, collecting her breath. She repeated it for a few times until her body relaxed and heart settled for a normal rate.

Just a brief freakout, nothing else.

When Zari opened her eyes again, she examined her current surroundings.

So much for not sleeping.

Zari stood up slowly, shaking any heaviness sinking into her limbs. She strode out of the engine room, not knowing if anyone else would find out that she was still awake.

***

[miriamandvictoria]

Hollow Walls

A short story about Rosie, Meghan and Sally, written originally for this week’s @flashfictionfridayofficial theme, Hollow Walls, but I didn’t finish in time. Anyway, here it is!

Rosanne Aideen was not a violent person. She was not a fighter or an abuser, and she never put her hands on anyone. Not even those who might’ve deserved it  for the way they treated her. It was not in her nature, she simply was not capable of it. 

But then, one day, Meghan stood there. Rosanne’s very own twin sister stood there and said words she had never imagined she would say. "I'm glad mum died" She didn’t show remorse, nor hate or even anger. She just stated, simply what she truly, fully seemed to believe. "She had it coming for the way she acted all her life."

Hearing those words, words that would have been fair twenty years ago but was so, so unfair now, she snapped. It was too much, too much pain on top of the already heavy grief. Her hands opened wide, her arms shot forward, and she pushed her sister. Not just pushed, but shoved. She threw all her weight against her sister, trying to move her with as much force as she could.

"Shut the fuck up!" She scream, tears dripping down her face as she attacked her sibling. “Don’t say that!”

When her sister collided with her, Meghan flew backwards across the room. With a look of surprise and fear, she was pushed up against the opposite wall, her arms pinned against the wall with bruising force.

"I hated her!" Even with her sisters hands pressing straight against her arms, a look of terrifying furry on her face, Meghan blinked away the tears that threatened to spill and persisted in her verbal attacks against their biologial mother. "She didn't deserve to get to know us again!"

"Liar! You loved her!" As Meghan continues to antagonize her, Rosanne push harder, her tiny limbs straining to find a way to get rid of the emotion that built up inside her .

She push, until the wall her sister is held against starts to crack and crash, Meghan suddenly continuing to move through the wall and on out on the other side. 

This time, Meghan is properly scared. She stumbles, falls down and expect to feel the hard, cold touch of linoleum floors violently meeting her scull as she crash to the floor of the bathroom that sits on the other side the bedroom wall.

To her surprise, her head only hits a wooden wall, and beneath her there is nothing but soft carpet.

Rosanne stares in shock at what she has done. Her hands, the hands she had put upon her sister, cradles her mouth and keeps her from screaming as she tried to process what had actually happened. She, the one who would never lay her hands upon anybody had pushed her sister into a wall, destroying it and sending her tumbling out on the other side.

In the midst of her anger and sorrow, she had hurt her sister.

Meghan is cracking up too, tears now dotting her cheeks as she tried to recover from the light dizziness of hitting her skull again the wall. She is not sitting in the bathroom and her head didn't hit the linoleum floor, but the fact that her sister had actually put her hands on her was startling and the wood had been hard enough to hurt.

"Meghan!"

Behind them, the door opens, and in comes Sally. Clearly not expecting to see what she did, their little sister wasted no time panicking as she rushed to help her sister down on the floor. "What happened to you?!' 

"Rosie got angry and pushed me." Meghan is thankful for the offered hand, using the wall and her tiny sister as support when she pulls herself back on to her feet. Her back and head aches from the rough treatment, and there are dark bruises forming on her arms, but she doesn't care. 

She deserved it. Meghan knew she had deserved what she got. Even if she had not expected this outcome, she knew there would be a counteraction for her harshly spoken words.

“Oh Meghan I’m so sorry” Rosie finally manages to speak, her hands moving away from her mouth. "I swear I didn't mean to do this, Sally, I just…" Rosie begin to explain herself to their younger sibling, but doesn't manage to finish as she is soon interrupted.

"Is that mum?" Spotting something, Sally bend down by Meghan's feet, and first as she does, the two older sisters actually notice what a mess there is around their feet.

The secretly hollow wall has spilled out a sea of photos and books and papers which had been contained within, all of it now littering the bedroom floor instead of being stacked in the walls between the rooms. 

"It is mum! This must have been her things..." Sally rise from where she is kneeling in the midst of the paper sea, a book and a couple of papers clutched in one hand, a photo in the other. "Look!"

She holds out the photo for Meghan to see, before taking note of her absent glasses and moving it closer to her. It's a blurry Polaroid shot, hardly even worth considering a successful photo, but the achingly familiar motive speaks volumes.

There's Caroline, their mother, sitting in her bed. Her back is against the headboard and a tired smile rests on her lips as she regard the camera. Meghan sits on the other side of the bed, cuddling up against her mother with a tired smile of her own. Down by their legs, there's a tray with flowers and cake and a folded piece of paper rests. 

Meghan knows that photo. She knows the occasion, and her hands move by themselves down to her swollen stomach. The baby bump is still small, but as she move her hands across her abdomen she can feel it clearly. 

On mother's day, she had told her mother that she was pregnant. Less than nine months later, a time that had not yet come, Caroline had been meant to greet her first grandchild. 

Less than two months after the fact, she greeted death instead.

It wasn't fair. Meghan could feel tears welling in her eyes again, and finally her heart broke apart. The fake heart, made of plastic and cartoon, that she had built up to keep all emotions out of the equation, fell apart and things became real again.

"Megh, what's wrong?' Rosie steps up to her sister, extending her arms towards her. She stops when she flinches, guilt squeezing her heart at what she had done, but then she continues anyway. She reaches out with the arms, pulling her twin sister into a tight, tight hug. 

Held tight in those strong arms, Meghan just cried and cried, bleeding her heart out until finally, she found words again for what she felt.

"I'm sorry Rosie! I lied. I didn't mean it" She exclaimed. "I loved mum...she shouldn't be gone. I wanted her to meet Magdalena " She cries, the paper heart collapsing in on itself to reveal the real heart that hid inside it's hollow walls.

Rosie was shocked, but she nodded, and  hugged Meghan even closer. Her sister's tears crushed her heart,and she knew she should've known better. 

"It's okay. I miss her too" She assures her, hoping all will in time be forgiven. 

At their side, a new weight came closing in, and Sally joined the hug. “I love you guys” She said softly, joining in the sea of emotions that filled the room and the three women in it. 

In that room, the hollow walls had fallen, and all the truths but one were revealed.

One, though, was still to come...

[onceuponanaromantic]

Siren

(Written for the @flashfictionfridayofficial‘s prompt FFF44: Hollow Walls. Enjoy!)

“He started it first.”

             Illustrator turns to come out of the wall and wiggles herself out, and then proceeds to glare at Siren. Siren, who’s just perching on the roof as if it’s nobody’s business and anyone else would have known to just come up here.

             “What are you, a child?” Illustrator snaps.

           “Why do you even care anyway?” Siren responds, still looking out at the city and not at Illustrator. Illustrator is very tempted to grab Siren and turn them forcefully towards her, but given that this is Siren, she likes the hands the way they are thank you very much. “You’re his friend, after all.”

             “I’m your friend too, if you would just stop being an asshole for a minute and listen.” Illustrator is so very tempted to yell at Siren but that wouldn’t accomplish anything, including getting Siren to stop planting things in White Violin’s room and hiding speakers in the hollow walls behind his bed. “Reflektra and Copycat both like you enough as a person and literally no one would mind you joining if you just stopped needling White Violin.”

             “Yeah, no. I’m happy where I am, thank you very much. I’m not going to be White Violin’s lackey.” Siren snorts, stretching out to move to another part of the roof.

             “I know you were there and listening when Reflektra was talking to White Violin about you. Copycat heard you through the wall.”

             “Well, then all of you should know well and good that I’m not interested in joining any of you.” Siren says, flicking a bit of dust a bit too viciously. Siren’s expression hasn’t changed a bit since the start of this conversation and Illustrator kind of wants to kill them because of it.

             “You’re doing that thing where you isolate yourself from everyone again.” Siren doesn’t say anything. “As if you know better than everyone and don’t care about anyone.”

             “I don’t care.” Siren starts but Illustrator is on a roll.

             “You hide in the walls and behind mirrors and you run through hidden passages as if they’re child’s play and you walk through the dark like it’s broad daylight but you’re not brave at all. You’re just a coward who refuses to talk to people because you’re scared of being rejected.”

             “I’m not a coward. Don’t you dare call me that.”

           “Yes, you absolutely are. You push everyone away and run into the darkness alone and you run into fights as if you’re enough on your own but the point of half the things we do is to learn how to depend on other people. You can’t do everything on your own and one day, you’re just going to burn out.”

             Illustrator stops to take a breath, and just stares at Siren. Siren, who’s hair is tied back in a messy bun, who hasn’t changed out of their hero outfit from earlier. Siren whose eyes have dark edges that are easily concealed if you don’t know what to look for.

             “I’m just saying that you don’t need to do it alone.”

           “Well, I’m sure as fuck not going to do it with White Violin.” They spit the name like an epithet and Illustrator rolls her eyes.

             “Forget White Violin for a moment okay. Just. I hate you sometimes. You’re infuriating. There are people who give a shit about you. There’s me. There’s Magician and Psychic. There’s Listener. But no, you don’t care, do you? You just run and hide, and you think that just because you don’t allow people to care for you, people don’t care.”

             Illustrator is pretty sure no one else sees Siren like this. Siren, who is charismatic and confident in class and gives both Reflektra and White Violin a run for their money. Siren who only needs to say a few words to take enemies down in the most humiliating way possible.

             Siren who’s covered in dirt and who hasn’t slept in three days. Siren who runs to the rooftops and who jumps into situations without thinking first because they don’t want to talk about things. Siren who steals into the hollows between the walls because they know that no one will know how and where to look.

             “You’re not alone, okay. Just. Accept that.” Illustrator doesn’t know what to say anymore.

             There’s a pause where neither of them says anything. The city is darkening now, and the streetlights are coming on. It’s probably dinner time already, which speaking of which, is what Illustrator came up to tell Siren about. There’s a soft hum of the city as people go home and things happen. Illustrator wonders what would happen if she drew this scene as it was.

             “I’m still not going to be subordinate to White Violin.” Siren finally says.

             Illustrator rolls her eyes. “I’ve already said. You don’t need to be. Just accept that people want you around.”

             “You don’t know that.”

           “I want you around. Now are you going to come down or what?”

           Siren finally turns to her, an eyebrow raised. “I was planning to just jump down the way I came. How are you planning to get down?” Their voice goes up an edge at the end of the sentence.

             Illustrator closes her eyes, hiding the fact that she’s rolling them again. She pulls out the drawing of the ladder she brought with her and shakes it out, letting it unfurl, before tucking the paper back in a pocket.

             Siren smiles a little at that, and Illustrator feels slightly triumphant at finally getting something from Siren.

             “Safely.”

           “Just jump. It’s not like it’s that far a drop down.”

           “Yeah, unlike you, I care about my bones.”

           “Okay, darling. You have very nice bone structure.”

             “Save your flattery for someone who actually thinks you mean it.” Illustrator extends a hand, and Siren accepts it, allowing themself to be pulled up. Illustrator pulls Siren into a hug.

             Siren pauses for a bit before letting themself fall into the hug.

             “Can we go eat yet?” Illustrator asks, grinning.

@a-blue-hoodie​

[writingcuredmyfrown]

The Lord

Father is calling me downstairs, he insists I dress well, because we have guests for dinner. I can’t decide what to wear, can’t find a fitting color for the occasion. I guess it’s going to be the usual - formal black with a bit of red as an accent. 

I leave my room and I end up in the hallway, leading to the grand staircase of our home. I pass through this hall every day, a couple of times, too. But I’ve never noticed this glaring detal, this thing that is so obvious, that I’ve never even considered it. I know that my family truly values art, the same way they value our servants. You see, the whole hallway is made like an art gallery. You’ve got the small display cases, full of weapons, fossils and books at the bottom. Then, you’ve got the portraits of all of the lords of our house, past and present. And at the top, you have the biggest portraits, only several of them, of the founders of the family. 

All of those faces, staring at me from the walls, as if asking me something, expecting something of me. I feel like an actor in front of an audience, which awaits my next move. “Show us what you’ve got.”, they’re telling me. It’s eerie yet comforting in a weird way. All those people have lived, so I can stand on their shoulders and live too. How odd it is to notice them for the first, to really look deep in their long lost souls. 

After dinner I came straight to my room again, I passed through the hallway once again. This time, paying more attention. For the first time ever I stopped and looked around meticulously. So many portraits, too many. Where were all these people? I was living only with my father and mother, but I had been told as a child that in our family, it is custom for the entire family to live together, in this very house. Then, they would choose a patron, under whose guidance they would carry their daily lives. Odd, so many uncles, aunts, distant cousins and young nephews were looking at me from these walls. But here I was, living with my two parents and a handful of servants. I hope of finding solace in my dreams.

“What can you tell me of the portraits in the grand hallway?”, I asked the butler. He was an old man, with balding hair. His hands trembled a little and his memory was beginning to leave him. 

“Well, if I recall correctly, one of your great ancestors had planned the hallway to be a museum. To display the bits and pieces he had gathered on his journeys.”

“It does seem like he managed to do it. To some extent, at least. Awful lot of things in there.”

The butler smiled, and hurried to correct me:

“Of course, to some extent indeed, but you see, his plan was totally erased from the books by your grandfather, who rebuilt the hallway. He was a judge, of high rank too, so he made the walls hollow, so he can hide important things. He always had a panic, that one, that one day someone would search his house and find something. A difficult man, he was.”

I see, but what could a judge hide inside the walls? Surely, his files could fit in a single shelf somewhere in the attic or in the basement. This made no sense. 

...

Terrible screaming and screeching, I can’t sleep. Someone is wailing close by, I don’t know if it’s a someone or a something. It’s driving me insane. How come nobody else hears it? My parents are nowhere to be found, I’m screaming my lungs out for help, but there’s nothing. I’m all alone in the middle of the hallway, and the tormenting laments continue. 

The hollow walls...That’s it! One of the armor stands has a big mace on it, I grab that and begin smashing the wall. Piece of brick, mud and concrete start flying around me, the wall begins to crumble and as I keep hitting it, a bony hand appears in front of my face. I run backwards and fall to the ground. The hand slowly turns into a body, then another one falls on top of it. The opening in the wall keeps growing by itself, the wailing is now unbearable, hellish, the bodies keep coming out of the walls like a swarm, they’re piling up. Dead, still, yet haunting with the sound. I need to run. I run for the stairs when I see the butler in front me, covered in a black cowl, his teeth showing. His hands dry and bony, devoid of life, cracked. He reaches out to me with a terrible wail. The last thing I saw were his eyes. Hollow. Endless, black, void...hollow. 

@flashfictionfridayofficial - Have a wonderful friday! #FFF44 - Hollow Walls. What a blast to write this one! 

[enchanted-lightning-aes]

Enchant’s FFF Drabbles Masterlist

[ID: Teal water color banner with orange text that reads "Enchant’s FFF Drabbles Masterlist" /finish ID]

Time for another masterlist because I’m extra. Here’s all the stories, poems, and ficlets I posted with the following prompts. I am shookth I wrote this much, tbh. Ranges from ships to character studies to little tales, this list has a lot. I’m hoping to be an avid participator because the prompts gives me the inspo and guts. Heed the TW in the A/N section, thanks. Basically, an organized list for me because tags aren’t helpful.

Note: I’ll reblog the list when I post something new.

Side-note: Ignore the fanfic, if you want to read original things. All fandoms are listed for easier navigation.

#FFF01 - Gimme Fluff - The Warm Relief (The Flash ficlet)

#FFF02 - Auch My Heart - Passionate Longing (Captain America ficlet)

#FFF06 - Fight Me! - Rising Against Unfairness (Lines of a Script to Ignore Tale)

#FFF08 - Bittersweet Beginnings - A Rocky Development (Original Story)

#FFF11 - Bruised Sky - The Resilient Spirit  (Captain America ficlet)

#FFF12 - Into the Wild - The Surreal Trip (Legends of Tomorrow ficlet)

#FFF15 - Midnight Drive - The Meandering Roads (OC Study)

#FFF18 - Jumping Fences - Thin Barriers (Legends of Tomorrow or The Flash ficlet)

#FFF19 - House of Stars - The Radiant Glimpse (Semi-Legends of Tomorrow ficlet)

#FFF21 - We Are Not Alone - Untamed Sentience (Blasted Scorn Story)

#FFF23 - Shelf Life - The Restive Obstacle (OC Study)

#FFF24 - On the House - The Uncanny Manor (Legends of Tomorrow ficlet)

#FFF29 - Golden Rings - A Crestfallen Wish (Original Story)

#FFF30 - Lethal Flowers - The Effective Solution (Original Story)

#FFF31 - Deep End - The Drenched Nightmare  (Legends of Tomorrow ficlet)

#FFF34 - Weeds and Ruins - Collapsed Forest (Poem)

#FFF35 - Locked In - Ploying to Escape (Original Story)

#FFF37 - Strange Lands - Peculiar Sight (Poem)

#FFF38 - Forbidden Knowledge - Concealed Information (Poem)

#FFF39 - Furry Friend - An Eager Keeper (Original Story)

#FFF40 - Mysterious Masquerade - Masked Celebration (Captain America ficlet)

#FFF41 - Blooming Blossom - Neither One Prepared (Semi-Legends of Tomorrow ficlet)

#FFF44 - Hollow Walls - The Vacant Disturbance (Legends of Tomorrow ficlet)

#FFF45 - Familiar Melody - Dear Euphony (OC Study)

#FFF47 - Don’t Take My Heart - Sudden Realizations (Semi Black Panther ficlet)

#FFF48 - Cold Object - Glacial Contemplation (Black Widow ficlet)

#FFF50 1 - Smoke and Mirrors - The Haunted Beast (OC Study)

#FFF50 2 - Unusual Concoction - The Nifty Elixir (Original Story)

#FFF50 4 - Shattered Sunshine - The Clear Brilliance (Legends of Tomorrow ficlet)

#FFF51 - Summer Storms - The Overwhelming Capability (The Flash ficlet)

#FFF52 - Child’s Play - Title with the same prompt name (Constantine ficlet)

#FFF53 - Come Back - Fleeting Encounter (True Devotion that Remains Constant Tale)

#FFF54 - Rainbow Kisses - Drizzles of Love (Captain America ficlet)

#FFF55 - Twisted Dreams - The Night Terrors (Captain America ficlet)

#FFF56 - Dress to Impress - Sense of Style (Black Panther ficlet)

#FFF57 - Crystalline Waters - Minerals Under the Sea (Original Story)

#FFF59 - I Beg You - Fulfilling Necessities (The Sims 2 ficlet through the POV of the player a.k.a me)

#FFF60 - Soft Bones - Brittle Bones (Poem)

#FFF61 - Wild and Free - Unleashing the Grand Treasure (Blasted Scorn Story)

#FFF63 - Creeping Magic - The Mystical Journey (Legends of Tomorrow ficlet)

#FFF64 - Made From Stardust - Celestial Spectacles (Poem)

#FFF65 - Better Than This - The Reclaimed Individuality (Black Lightning ficlet)

#FFF66 - Golden Decay - The Languid Flow (Original Story)

#FFF68 - We Meet At Midnight - The Peculiar Introduction (Doom Patrol and Constantine ficlet)

#FFF69 - Blood on My Name - The Arduous Task (Lines of A Script to Ignore Tale)

#FFF72 - Hidden at the Shadows - Cautionary Narratives for the Inexperienced (Blasted Scorn Story)

#FFF74 - Drifting in the Wind - Through the Seasons (Poem)

#FFF75 - Dreams of Tomorrow - To the Dreamer (Poem)

#FFF80 - Comfort in the Cold - The Cozy Shelter (Black Lightning ficlet)

#FFF83 - Everyday Hero - The Earnest Fight (Black Lightning ficlet)

#FFF89 - Dipped in Silver - Severe Uncertainty (True Devotion that Remains Constant Tale)

#FFF90 - Mirror Image - The Plaintive Reflection (Doom Patrol ficlet)

#FFF92 - Sweet Surprise - A Sudden Treat (Original Story)

#FFF94 - Riveting Revival - The Clear Reappearance (Original Story)

#FFF95 - Dance the Night Away - Chance for the Night (Original Story)

#FFF97 - Cleansing of the Soul - Solace in Rain (Poem)

#FFF99 - Undiscovered Colors - A Vivid Display (Lines of A Script to Ignore Tale)

#FFF100 1 - A New Dawn - Early Check-In (Blasted Scorn Story)

#FFF100 3 - The Sweetest Blood - An Aggravating Issue (Original Story)

#FFF100 4 - Hidden Path - Not Known Track (Original Story)

#FFF100 5 - Stay With Me - The Expressive Tending (Black Lightning ficlet)

#FFF101 - Broken Scars - Bordered City (The Falcon and the Winter Soldier ficlet)

#FFF102 - Fairy Lights - The Soulful Ache (True Devotion that Remains Constant Tale)

#FFF103 - Burn It Down - Invisible Constrained Rage (Original Story)

#FFF104 - Stronger Together - Rigid Compromises (Blasted Scorn Story)

#FFF105 - Ruined and Destroyed - Brink of Destruction (Original Story)

#FFF108 - Starlight Paths - Across the Unknown (Original Story)

#FFF109 - Littered Souls - A Vital Job (Original Story)

#FFF110 - Moon Magic - Moonlight Charms (Poem)

#FFF112 - Sunny Delights - Sunlight Rapture (Poem)

#FFF113 - Hold Me Closer - Watch It Unfold (Lines of A Script to Ignore Tale)

#FFF120 - A Greater Horror - What’s Lurking From Far (Original Story)

#FFF125 - Think Twice - Trying to Pick (Original Story)

#FFF127 - Green with Envy - Warranted Ire (Original Story)

#FFF129 - Under the Moonlight - A Discreet Moment (Original Story)

#FFF130 - Drowned Thoughts - Locking Up Crushed Hopes (Original Story)

#FFF132 - A Taste of Blue - The Chilly Outlook (Original Story)

#FFF141 - Chaos Unfurling - Break-Out Brawls (Blasted Scorn Tale)

#FFF143 - As Good as There - Searching for a Muse (Poem)

#FFF144 - Foul Play - Inane Issues and Other Non-sense (Original Story)

#FFF147 - The Sound of Light - In A Passage (Original Story)

#FFF148 - The Big City - A New Start (Original Story)

#FFF155 - Out of Containment - Surrounded by Buffoons (Original Story)

#FFF159 - Pride Before the Fall - Price for Unwise Actions (Original Story)

#FFF160 - The Dazzling Screen - Delay in Pursuits (Lines of a Script to Ignore Tale)

#FFF161 - Storms and Thorns - Awakened Forces (Poem)

#FFF162 - The Letter - Heeding Wise Words (Original Story)

#FFF163 - Splash of Waves - The Fiery Temperature (Original Story)

#FFF164 - A False Confession - Feeble Diversion (Original Story)

#FFF166 - Count the Ways - Done with Pride (Original Story)

#FFF168 - Sleepless Nights - A Secret Retreat (Original Story)

#FFF170 - Eager for Details - An Upscale Composition - (Original Story)

#FFF172 - A Ghost from the Past - Dare to Examine (Poem)

#FFF173 - No Rest for the Wicked - Causing an Uproar (Original Story)

#FFF174 - Monster Mash - Crash a Bash (Original Story)

#FFF175 - Gloomy Daze - The Genuine Repose (True Devotion that Remains Constant Tale)

#FFF179 - Dance, Dance Revolution - On the Set (Original Story)

#FFF181 - Crystallized - Gain a Result (Original Story)

#FFF183 - Late Night Train - Getting a Transit (Original Story)

#FFF184 - Set the Stage - Behind the Curtains (Lines of a Script to Ignore Tale)

#FFF186 - Fine By Me - Bustling Tasks (Original Story)

#FFF190 - Trapped in the Dark - Confined in Nowhere (Poem)

#FFF192 - Sea and Sun - Near the Shore (Original Story)

#FFF195 - Filled with Clarity -  Refined Craft (True Devotion that Remains Constant Tale)

#FFF196 - Against the Flow - Altering a Tide (Original Story)

#FFF199 - Didn’t Mean It - Afflicted By Deciet (Original Story)

#FFF201 - Comedian’s Night - Intermission for Eluding (Original Story)

#FFF205 - Where the Flowers Grow - Spots of Growth (Poem)

#FFF206 - Sink or Swim - Those Rueful Woes (Original Story)

#FFF215 - Mall at Night - Ensuring an Outlook (Original Story)