Category: Visual

Flash: Tumbling Tumbleweeds

Erin Penn

Image from FreeDigitalPhotos.net

“Here on the range I belong, drifting along with the tumbling tumbleweeds.”

“Daphrous, you have your mike open. Repeat your mike is open.”

“Of course it is, that regulations right? (hmm, hmming, a-hmm)”

“Daphrous, I am not being paid enough to have you serenade me about some Earth-forsaken prairie weeds.”

“TetherKeeper, don’t be silly, I’m serenading the rocks. Telling them how pretty they are.”

“Is this another human thing?”

“Yes, it is another human thing. A whistle why you work thing.”

“Daphrous, please do not start whistling.”

“Nah, the rocks don’t like that song. It was about a bunch of miners. They much prefer to hear how beautiful then are and how lucky I am to be among these tumbling tumbleweeds.”

“The asteroids are not alive.”

“Sure they are. As alive as you and me. Especially this beauty right her. Hey, Rocco, wanna come over the TetherKeeper, he has cookies.”

“Daphrous, I am not alive. Rocco is not alive. And I do not have cookies.”

“Shh, I’m working here. Be a good wingman. Come on Rocco, it’s a party in the cargo hull. TK has everything you want. See them tumbling down. Drifting along… TetherKeeper start the retrieval, Rocco is a party animal, he has the best shit …with the tumbling tumbleweed.”

“I would hate you if I could experience that emotion.”

“Except I have a 20% higher efficiency rating than any other claim jumper you have ever worked with.”

“Affirmative. Item for inquiry queue: Recalculation efficiency including impact of singing on team functioning and morale.”

“I could start singing to you to.”

“Please do not do that Daphrous.”

“Are you sure? Because I got dozens of songs about beautiful ships and robots.”

“I am sure. Mineral analysis done. Expected value on Gamma-C future’s market is 15-ZedMuff credits.”

“That is good, right?”

“It increases your lifetime efficiency rating by 3%.” The ship’s AI paused before adding. “You may continue singing to the rocks.”

(words 323; first published 11/24/2023)

Flash: Last Time Together for Best Friends Forever

Erin Penn

Image from Kenny Eliason on Unsplash

“Surprise!” my boyfriend shouted as he leap out of his hiding spot in the Haunted House. He had shown me the ridiculous pumpkin-head latex mask he would be wearing when he first took the job. And we had had a good laugh about it. Admittedly in the purple and blue lights of the House it looked better.

I gave a squeak and ran under his long arms into the mirror room. The floor moved under mine and Gretchen feet as we made the way to the blood room where her boyfriend worked through the fun house mirrors. Like good cheerleaders, we have been coming every day after school to support our guys. Today will be the last day.

Then it will be their turn to support us with the Cheer Squad Thanksgiving food bank drive. After that will be Christmas and the Christmas dance put on by the student body, and the world will be continuing its avalanche to Senior graduation.

Covered in blood, Jamal lurched toward us with a cleaver in his hand.

Side note, Jamal actually is really good with a cleaver, having worked in the butcher department at the big store in town over the summer. He can hack out a chicken into parts in minutes. We are all a little jealous of him turning 18 in June, meaning he could do adult level work during the summer where the rest of us were stuck stocking shelves and working the cash registers.

Jamal and Gretchen have a game to see if he could get some of the blood on her. In the last two weeks, he only managed it once because of where he is allowed to be at any time. Today he gave me ten bucks to get her a little closer to his restricted area.

Oops, I tripped.

He gets her good, a long smear down the arm. I grin at him, pulling her away. “See you when you’re done.” I wave as we move to the next area.

(words 334; first published 11/23/2023)

Flash: Living Scents

Erin Penn

Photo by Thalia Ruiz on Unsplash

“Gods, I love pumpkin spice coffee.”

“And people run so much faster during October after all their summer exercise.” Jerri, the other ghost haunting the park passed me some of the pumpkin cookies and snickerdoodles she was scarfing down, still laughing about the people we chased off. “They forget how quickly it gets full dark after all those months of sun.”

Cinnamon has the best memories, with nutmeg is a close second. Coffee though, that is life. Permeating every part of my heart-attack destined existence. I felt nearly solid at our jump-scare bounty.

(words 93; first published September 12, 2022 – from a picture prompt for a Facebook writing group. Aim is about 50 words)

Flash: Coverage

Erin Penn

Image from Unsplash (I think – sorry, lost track of this one)

“Hello, anyone out there?” Mike’s voice echoed through the fog hunting below the branches of the old woods.

“Shh.” Gregory hissed. “Will you be quiet?”

“Come out, come out, wherever you are!” The blond moved ahead of the other two males. “We’re friendly.”

“Will you shut it!” Gregory jerked Mike’s arm, then lowered his voice to a whisper quickly absorbed into the heavy fog like vile secrets. “What are you going to do if something answers?”

“Where is your sense of adventure?” Mike asked, yanking his arm out of the taller man’s grip.

“Where is your sense of self-preservation?” Gregory eye’s explored the hostile trees around them.

Silent climbed into the upper branches to hide, the only noise their crunching footsteps. A slight breeze, unfelt by the hikers, twirled the last determined leaves in their singularity, holding on to branches for dear life. Undergrowth drew back in the passing, huddling between trees, hoping to survive the coming winter by staying low to the ground.

Perkinson closed on the others, holding out his black rectangle, casting a ghoulish green light on his face. “Still no signal. One of you guys should try, my battery is running low.”

“No, you have the best chance, your company has the most coverage in the area. Once your battery is dead, then I’ll turn on mine.” Gregory tapped his back pocket. “We got to save batteries as much as possible and bringing them up and down chews energy.”

“What do we do when we all run out of battery?” Perkinson dropped his hand, the light fading after a beep of protest.

“We keep walking, there has to be an end.”

“Why, why do you think that?”

“Don’t give up on me now.” Gregory gripped Perkinson’s shoulders. “We will get through this.”

“With the help of whoever is out there!” Mike shouted to the surroundings.

“Shut.UP.”

“Here is the thing, I was thinking of going back to the car to recharge the battery,” Perkinson rushed his words, stumbling over them like they were roots breaking the ground of this god-forsaken forest, “but then…but then…”

“That might be a good fallback position.”

“No, you don’t understand.” Perkinson pulled on the tall man’s sweater. “I don’t remember there being a car.”

“What?” Gregory’s eyebrows clashed together.

Perkinson whispered the words like he was afraid the fog would overhear. “I don’t remember a car. I don’t remember getting here. I can’t even remember the last thing I remember. I can only remember being here in the woods with you two.”

(words 421; first published 11/22/2023)

Flash: Blue Jeans Guy

Erin Penn

Image from freedigitalphotos.net

Rating: Mature

Hmm. This virtual reality just got better. I wasn’t sure what I was getting when I picked up “Blue Jeans Guy” from the romance section. I mean, everyone KNOWS what they are getting from that portion of the romance section, but you never know if the AI … REALLY … understands your preferences when moving things into your recommended queue. “Red Hat Man” had been a disaster.

But Blue Jeans Guy, just what the doctor ordered, though I don’t think the Psych Doc shares memory storage with the Entertainment AI.

I guess they would, healthy mind starts with a happy mind and entertainment makes you happy.

Is he just going to stand there, fists ready to unsnap his jeans, a set of abs I want to climb like the Rockies?

(By the way, if you haven’t tried the Rockies Sim, and you like hiking and rock climbing, highly recommend – five stars. I don’t know if those towering monsters are real, but boy are they beautiful.)

As beautiful as this boy.

“Hey, do you want to take those off, or put on a shirt?” I ask the virtual.

Whatever you want sweetheart. It says back, the voice sounding distant.

Oh, crap. I’m still thinking too much. I haven’t fully immersed.

What can I say, it had been a rough day.

Reaching up in the VR suite, I tell it to drop some critical thinking blocker into the IV so I can better experience things. Can’t be too on my toes if I want to enjoy having them sucked.

(Quick check, no, Blue Jeans Guy is not set up for foot fetish. Drat.)

“I would like them off big guy.” I lean back on … I look around … a bed covered in pillows. Soft as a dream. Literally.

The author programmed the pillows for a pretty good mix of colors…oooo, nice colors, the fabric just went from soft to exquisite.

I look over at the man in the bedroom with me.

“Hey hon.” I crawl to the edge of the bed. “Come here.”

He approaches, kicking off his shoes and pulling off his socks.

Good, I love a man in bare feet.

I spend too much time in clothes and shoes … and I don’t need to be thinking about that with … “Hey hon, you got a name,” I say, gripping his shoulders as I kneel tall on the mattress to start tasting his neck.

“What sort of name do you like?”

Ah, hell no. I hate it when someone is lazy programming and doesn’t bother supplying a name.

“Whatever you want hon.” I draw his face over for a quick kiss. “Be imaginative. I need something real today.”

The virtual freeze, his eyes glazing over. Well, on a normal human the eyes stopping tracking and the face not moving would be considered a glaze over, here it just means processing. Basic writing should be able to search for a name with the parameters I just gave, if the writer had any skill.

One time a blue circle appeared, replacing the face. I exited that VR so fast, electrons burned. I told the algorithm never to send me anything by that author again.

“Randy.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Really?” I say dryly.

“Randall.”

“Better, I can work with that.”

I reach for his pants and unsnap them.

“I rather you work with this.” He takes my hand inside his pants.

“Don’t worry. I’m going to work with everything you got.” I start falling backwards on the sheets, pulling Randall the Blue Jeans Guy with me. “Tell me you love me.”

“I love you Officer Bahn.”

“Sh, sh.” I press my finger against his generous lips. “In the bedroom, I’m K.B., think you can handle that?”

“Yes.” He cups my breast, his mouth covers my nipple, causing me to arch into the sensation.

It seems I’m already naked. Okay then.

(words 650; first published 11/22/2023 – created during two ten-minute writing sprints (then a proofing pass) – total actual time about an hour including upload)