The last postcard-sized flash fiction writing challenge was such a hill of fun that I thought we’d do it again.
The rules are the same: write short fiction about this photograph*, and make sure the complete piece is 100 words or less. Then, post it in the comments section. You have until noon tomorrow. Ready? Set? Go!
*This photograph, by the by, was taken by yours truly and not doctored up in the least. It seems that a certain city (cough, cough) has road construction signs which are (cough, cough) insanely easy to hack and customize. I’m not even kidding. Just sayin’.
No wonder they died.
They knew with enough time to put up a sign, and yet, all they did was put up a sign.
Zombies are no different in death as they were in life.
They
No memory of what transpired, I took a step into the burning city. I needed to get my bearings, and fast. No telling what kind of tragedy had transpired.
My first priority was to get back home, it seemed I was several miles north. All of a sudden I remembered. Amy. I was having lunch with Amy.
I crossed street after street wondering where Amy went. Where anyone was. Slowly my memory was returning, and as I turned onto another street, I realized what happened. I saw something.
A road construction sign with the words
Ohhh... writing the blogess into the flash fiction! Quite a tactic, Mr. Garcia.
She is last name-less... though you may find out who she is (possible its you) and where she is, in a future postcard fiction...
Hilarious! Why do I suddenly see a rash of construction-sign-hacking pranks ahead?
Driving along the coast of Los Angeles I was one with the highway, temporarily shaded from the confusion of the world.
Elvis alighted from his guitar-shaped leopard print clad flying saucer on the streets of Chicago. It had been years since he had returned to Earth. He had a hankering for some of Big Mama