Flash Club April Flash Club Contest

[Anonymous]

She pushed the Pickled Onion Monster Munch crisp between her breasts and cupped them, provocatively. Then ate it... all the time giving Ted the look.

 

[Anonymous]

None of them realised GUCCI actually stood for: Generating Umbilical Cultivating Creatures Incredibly. Had they known, they'd NEVER have handed XXL pants to a dragon.

 

[Anonymous]

So, Ted mused, she's an unreliable narrator. It was time to activate The Defender. This was what he had been waiting for.

 

[Anonymous]

So, Ted mused, she's an unreliable narrator. It was time to activate The Defender. This was what he had been waiting for.

Sorry, this should be above the previous one.... aaah

 

[Anonymous]

Meanwhile, Katrina stared at her screen, appalled. 'The space-time narrative continuum is disrupted', she gasped. 'I need to fix it!'

 

[Anonymous]

There was a natural order to these things. Dragons wearing GUCCI... The Defender.. Everything had a time and place, but now they were intertwined.

 

[Anonymous]

Intertined like a continuum bag of crisps. Thin slices of potato baked into a seasoned twists like möbius strips.

 

[Anonymous]

"Pepper!! Achoo!!!" The Swedish GUCCI-wrapped dragon egg hatched.
"What the hell are you?" mama dragon asked, wooden spoon in hand.
"Ted. Who you?"
"Yo mama."

 

[Anonymous]

"I should have gone for the Versace – the pants with the pink lobster print," Ted said ruefully, as a sandpaper tongue licked his face clean.

 

[Anonymous]

‘So, The Defender worked.’ Ted examined his sticky, eggy surroundings. ‘Not sure why it transported me here, must be those underpants?’

 

[Anonymous]

The dragon frowned, suspicion mounting in its newborn-but-fiendishly-advanced brain that what it had thought to be mama looked much more like food.

 

[Anonymous]

"You," it said to Ted, "are ugly."
"Yea? Well you're not Snow White, yourself." Ted picked a half-dried glob of amniotic fluid off his elbow.

 

[Anonymous]

The dragon knew it couldn't yet breathe fire, so it settled for biting Ted's head off. Then it set about eating the rest of him.

 

[Anonymous]

That man, it mused, snapping one of the femurs between its molars, clearly never heard the true story of Snow White.

 

[Anonymous]

'Well,' thought Katrina. 'That's one darling killed. But that dragon's causing one hell of a plot hole.' How could she get things back on track?

 

[Anonymous]

Think social storytelling, she chided herself, not psychological. Think like Martin, like Hitchcock. A story can be bigger than its characters. What's this really about?

 

[Anonymous]

Yes! Hitchcock - that was the way to go. He killed off a main protagonist early on. She needed mirrors, a motive, and a disguise.

 

[Anonymous]

And she needed to return to the start, to a girl with a shopping list, a girl who was a character in a computer game.

 

[Anonymous]

Pressing delete, Katrina stared at the fresh blank page. The sun shifted across the room casting long shadows; the blank page still shockingly white.

 

[Anonymous]

Jared tapped the doorframe. "Hey, wanna grab a bite?" He glanced at her screen. "Christ, you haven't written anything yet?"

 

[Anonymous]

‘I have but it was all CRaaaaaap!’ Katrina’s chin wobbled. The phone rang. ‘Don’t answer it,’ she screamed. Too late. ‘It’s your editor,’ said Jared.

 

[Anonymous]

'You promised me Gucci underpants delivered by Ted,' the editor said. 'Oh, and my son's just bitten his head off.'

'What the-'

 

[Anonymous]

Katrina threw the phone; dashed into the bedroom and scoured her wardrobe for a disguise.
Jared’s voice penetrated the wall. ‘You coming or what?’

 

[Anonymous]

A man with handlebar whiskers walked out of the bedroom. 'Jeese,' Jared said. 'I thought . . . wait a minute, that's my moustache you're wearing Katrina.'

 

[Anonymous]

‘How the hell did you know it was me?! Shit! Who’s that at the door? Quick help me into this!’

 

[Anonymous]

'Hands up!' came the shout. 'Step away from the computer.'
Yikey yikes! It was the Fourth Wall Police.

 

[Anonymous]

"About time, too! Hardly Rapid Response."

"Who're you?" The police operative took in the young man's slightly singed look.

"Joss. Josh. Name doesn't matter."

 

[Anonymous]

'Now, about this fictional device you're trying to establish, and failing miserably, might I add,' the officer began, 'under code 7.6 section b, I suggest . . .

 

[Anonymous]

’ . . . you look toward that light. See that person there, the one sat at their computer, writing this, running the show.? I suggest . . .’

 

[Anonymous]

"Oh, pants to that!" Joss spat.
"What about the dragons? What about Ted? What about murder?"