Ficly about a flash-flood. Inspired by another story on ficly.
The original work by Elizabeth Gallenberg: “Flash Flood”
The jingle sounds off from the little speaker on the phone. Flash of red on the screen. It takes forever. Pete is in a daze, the shard of glass in his leg keeping him somewhere between conscious and comatose.
There’s a sloshing noise, massive. Water licks at my feet. Mandy’s right shoe swims off. The car lurches off under a surge of murky sewage, I scramble away, imagining myself tied to the steering wheel.
The house is going to come down. We can all see it happening before it even starts. A ton of mud migrates into the highway-gone-river and exposes the foundation of the house. Creaking. Something snaps, a block of concrete the size of my bedroom breaks off. The rest follows.
Mandy’s mouth slips open loosely. I wonder if this would be less frightening with cinematic letterbox bars on top and bottom of my vision.
I turn back to my phone in just enough time to remember why it was off to begin with. The battery icon blinks, blinks, blinks, and dies. I wipe the blood from the screen and swallow.
Originally on Ficly: http://ficly.com/stories/17921
Still working on that short story, that website, that book, that comic, and that other comic… Keep an eye out for all my stuff.
HAHAAAAAAAAA! So I DID write a Ficly today. Found the time. Boom. Enjoy. It’s fantastic.
When we looked at the ashen earth where the house had been, there was a dull silence that fell over us. Everyone had made it out safely, so there was no real reason to cry, but tears welled in my father’s eyes anyway.
The fire department gave us a slew of possible reasons for it to have started, but it didn’t really matter why so long as there was no one to blame.
Running out from the back door as the roof took, I could feel the heat at my back. Across the street, I turned to watch, knowing that my things were in there.
Violated. That’s what it was. I felt violated. I had done nothing to deserve the destruction of my home.
That was a week ago. This is now. They’ve cleared the rubble, the remains of a kitchen, a television, a fireplace that burned almost to dust, and too much glass. The sound the bulldozer made was deafening. All that’s left is a gray square on the earth where my life used to be.
Originally on Ficly: http://ficly.com/stories/17330
This Ficly is part of a short that I have not written yet called “On the Moon” and will be an interlude in my upcoming book.
Something within me has activated my Goodbye Protocol. Maybe it’s because I know that it’s over.
There’s a woman here on the Moon. She may be the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.
Cold solar wind blows so gently across me, I wonder if it’s even there. The distance is almost infinite between us. Her figure on the horizon is in stark contrast to the blackness beyond. She is so graceful and I am so old. I can barely move through the thick dead silt. Even the pillows of dust have more life in them than I have in me.
My vision flickers. They said there was nothing they could do to save the Earth. They evacuated as many as they could.
I fall on my back, incapable of motion.
They said the planet would shatter, and that the shock wave would kill everyone instantly. I stare up at humanity’s first haven. The woman draws closer and kneels by my head.
Mezzanine to the world. The woman smiles at me as I lay paralyzed and tilts her head up to stare at all that green and blue as it finally happens.
Originally on Ficly: http://ficly.com/stories/15897