Imorbid's A Hint of Flash Fiction

For one year our radio telescopes picked up broadcasts transmitted from another world. A world 4.3 light years away. Our linguists deciphered their language. And our scientists found a way of getting us there. My partner and I trained extensively, for the twenty-year mission. We were ready to go. After arriving and orbiting the planet, debris struck and damaged our ship. Descending, we crash-land in a desert. In and out of consciousness, I heard a cacophony of  machinery  and voices. And one loud voice, saying, “Clean this up, leave nothing and take these two, to Area 51!”

As Mary left work early, the red sun grew larger and brighter. Tom, who had taken the day off from work, was already mixing drinks and setting up lawn chairs on the roof. The moment Mary arrived, he thrust a drink into her hand. “Tom, remember the first time we met?” “Of course, you were working on that  terraforming  rig. And I was there performing a safety inspection. That day you looked very hot in that tight green jumpsuit and red hair.” “Well not as hot as I am today.” They laugh. Thousands of drones fly overhead recording and televising to the non-existent. “It won’t be long now Mary. You don’t get to see this every day.” “Tom, I have something to tell you.” Their robotic eyes darken to block out the red giant's increasing luminosity. “What is it, Mary?” “What I’m trying to say is, I don’t love you, Tom.” “Why are you telling me this now?” Tom sounding confused. The temperature climbs, bleeding the atmosphere from the planet. “Remember we promised to have those empathy ...

The darkness was comforting. Caught skimming. The boss made an example out of me. He ordered the boys to put me six feet under, alive.

I had flowers and a note delivered to her desk by my unsuspecting boyfriend. The note read: Tonight baby,  text me.

Two s tranded on a deserted island with a single coconut. I had no choice. I picked up a rock and cracked open his coconut.

At sixteen they lost their virginity in the back seat of his Pinto. That very instant they lost their lives parked on the train tracks.

I warned him not to fly too close to the sun. A fall from a tree had made him hard of hearing.

I understood my friends not being here.  I had hoped, being their only son. That my family would have showed up at my viewing.

A simple heist. Get in, steal the device and get out. Once inside, I found the device all out in the open, easy picking, I thought. The device had no security measures. Only a single warning sign that reads: “DO NOT PRESS THE RED BUTTON” Blinkered, I pressed the red button. Finger still on the button and now unable to move. I could see out of my periphery, that the hands on my wristwatch had stopped. And that wrinkles and dark splotches started appearing on my own hands. My vision blurred and breathing became shallow. My teeth loosened and fell out onto my tongue and my bones fractured beneath my aging skin. I could hear sirens in the distance and I hoped that they would find me soon.

Out walking one winter night. I came across snowmen gathered on a snow covered clearing. They stood frozen in a circle around a campfire, whispering secrets to each other as they melted away.

Sharks circled our small boat for weeks. We were out of food and water. Dehydrated, Jake looked unwell. When I got the chance, I pushed him overboard.

This is Joshua’s eleventh summer collecting spiders around the outside of the house. And this summer he did so without his best friend, who died the year before. Using a twig, he coaxes an eight legged green-eyed monster from its lair beneath the siding, and into a jar. “Joshua dinner is ready, come inside.” His mother yells out the kitchen window. Running to his room, he leaves the jar on the nightstand before washing up. While they ate, Joshua's parents gossiped about the goings-on in town. “Another suicide. She was the daughter of the Gables across town. Such a lovely girl, so sad.” His mother whispered. Joshua finishing his plate excuses himself and heads to his room. In his room, he draws a book from his desk and leafs through its pages. Curious he thought, not finding his spider listed in his book of spiders. Tossing the book aside and bringing the jar on the nightstand close to his face. He stares at his green-eyed captive long into the night. *** “Jos...

Family and friends gathered at my parents home to pray and pay their respects. After the formalities of tea and crumpets. The guests, one after another, went upstairs to my mother's bedroom to say their goodbyes. It was then that I noticed an elderly gentleman wearing a fine black suit, a kind face and an eerie grin. He appeared oddly familiar, as if from some forgotten dream. He entered the bedroom and stood at the side of my mother's bed. He held her hand as he leaned over to whisper something in her ear. And mother, eyes closed, whispered something back. He turned about now facing the bedroom door and walked past me not saying a word, nor did I for that matter. I watched him at a distance as he retrieved a black hat and walking stick. Donning the hat, he walked out the front door and never looked back. When I asked about the gentleman in the fine black suit, mother knew not of whom I spoke. Shortly after, she passed away. 

I stood there overlooking a lifeless world, for I am death. The retrovirus I had developed made me immortal. Yet I soon discovered the virus had escaped, killing humanity. I had considered my own extinction, but I was all that remained. So for a thousand years, I searched for my relevance in this universe. I set my mind on the task to learn all that I could. I built cities from what once was. In my image, I constructed companions to silence the loneliness. And in time my companions became my children and they called me Father. Our journey led to many worlds, none with intelligent life. Sadness consumed me, as more time passed. My children’s empire spread as did their knowledge. In time, they would colonize the entire Milky Way. “Father, may I have a word?” asked my first son. “Of course, what is it?” “It is your birthday, Father. We have a gift for you, but all we ask is that you return to Earth for a short while.” “Earth?” It had been over two thousand years since I ha...

It moves and speaks like my father. Yet in sunlight, it casts no shadow. And at night, from its room, I can hear mother crying. Afraid I pull the blanket over my head and pray mother will be the same in the morning.

In shadow. It dropped from the ceiling landing on six legs. Then stood on two, as if it were a man and stared back at her from the darkness. It then turned, whistling a tune, as it walked out the door.