The WINNER and CHAMPION of the WEEK 2 WEST SUBURBAN SUMMER SCHOOL FLASH FICTION CONTEST...

IS...

# 3 "A DESPERATE CRIMINAL"

by

BE!!!!!

FLASH FICTION CONTEST #9

Maybe it was the lack of sleep or Funnels dire need for a cup of coffee, but he broke out in a near manic laughter as he looked at the black silhouette of his new species. 

It was a masterpiece.

With its shiny red abdomen the shape of a spider and extra pairs of legs it was only just Funnel named this a Spiderclaw dragon, and it was finally alive. All Funnel had to do was open up the incubator and free his creation.

(FIVE WEEKS LATER)

Funnel paced around the Spiderclaws cage, casting questionable glances at the dragon and taking observational notes every now and then.

looks to be bored, he etched down, muttering under his breath, not too active. stares at me, alot. What's up with it? maybe annoyed..

"Stop calling me 'it'!" The dragon said,her voice full of protest, "I'm not just your experiment to--,"

"SILENCE." Funnel said, the clouds on his scruff turning dark grey as his eyes flashed bright white like a thunderstorm. (Funnel is a Cloudclaw, meaning he is a cloud dragon with powers similar to that of a storm cloud.)

The spiderwings mouth snapped shut and bowed her head, her wings quivering nervously.

How strange... thought Funnel, tipping his snout down as he looked at the dragon, her green eyes piercing through his soul. Her emotions are subtle yet so complex at the same time. She appears to be angry, saddened, and nervous all at once. wait, and how did she know i was calling her 'it'?

"You." Funnel said, "how did you know I was calling you 'it'?" he asked. could this dragon have some sorts of telepathic powers?

"I'm more observant than you think." She answered, "I actually care about dragons and their feelings, something I think you need to work on."

Funnel stayed silent for a moment, but suddenly began to scowl, "what do you know about being a dragon?!" Then he exploded, "DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH I WENT THROUGH TO MAKE YOU?"

Suddenly, thunder crashed through the building,loud and clear. it ripped across Funnel's laboratory, and the spiderwing shrieked in fear,covering her head with her wing as everything rattled from the sheer force.

moments later Funnel proceeded to thoroughly check the area, making sure nothing had been set aflame, taking deep breaths to cool down. Then he noticed the shaking figure of the Spiderclaw.

for the first time..funnel felt something unidentifiable. sorrow? guilt? he couldn't tell yet.

"You better get to bed."he said after a moment, "this day has been...frustrating, to say the least."

He was too torn to say anything else. on one talon, he should be mad at Spiderclaw for being so...so ungrateful! On the other, he was almost..guilty for scaring her. But why should he care? He made her after all, she should be grateful he takes the time to consider her as a dragon and not just some experiment.
but does he really?

Soon after waiting for a response, Funnel turned the lights off and headed to his old house. not wanting to sleep the night in here with so many confusing feelings.

later that night the Spiderclaws' words circled through his head, over and over and over.

"I actually care about other dragons and their feelings, something you need to work on."

It basically haunted him. Maybe he should have been nicer, or at least apologize for scaring her. Funnel had been so caught up with the idea of this new species that he forgot it was a dragon with wants, needs and feelings. it wasn't some lab rat to be treated poorly of. that settled it.tomorrow, funnel was gonna be as genuine as possible and state his guilt and how sorry he was.

It was early next morning, the sun rising above the peaks as Funnel made his way to the laboratory, something he hadn't done in a while. Truth be told, Funnel had not returned to his house in a while.

"Hey, there." Funnel said, flicking the lights on, "Listen, I've been a..not so good dragon lately..I just.." Funnel sighed. Why did apologies have to be so hard?

"I'm sorry, ok?"

"I don't forgive you,"said the dragon, " I can't stay here any longer."

"Wait--" Funnel said, "How did you get outside of the cage??"

there was the Spiderclaw, standing on top of her cage, her wings spread out wide. for the first time Funnel realized her beautiful, bright rubellite red.

"Goodbye, Funnel." Spiderclaw said, ignoring his question. her head tilted towards the sealing.

The dragon took off, flying fast. Without a moment to waist she b-lined out of the 

laboratory, flying through the window.

"Please!." he said, "..don't go!!."

she cast one last look at him as she flew away, and then dived towards the ground.
Funnel gulped,deciding not to chase after her. Instead, he sat down and watched her silhouette as she went up and down,and all around.

"Goodbye, Spiderclaw." he whispered, "I'll always remember you."

Funnel let regret burn in his heart. He stared out the window for a moment, wishing the Spiderclaw well.

FLASH FICTION #6

Ring Ring! The kids rush into the school, trying to avoid getting bullied.

But there was one kid who ran faster than the other kids, his name was Venkat Singh.

His flimsy arms & his naturally small genes made him an easy target for bullies.

He was about to get into his homeroom when he heard it, the laugh: "Ha Ha Ha!" It was Bill! He was really strong and tall, so technically the opposite of Venkat. 

Bill was bullying a 1st grader, so Venkat for the first time ever, he tried standing up for the 1st grader! But things didn’t go the way he planned, when he said, “You don't have the right to bully him!”

Bill just replied “ Stay out of this loser!” Venkat tried asking Bill why he was doing this, but Bill said “None of your business.” 

 Finally Venkat shouted, “STOP BULLYING HIM!!!"

Bill coolly said, “ You want to fight, I'll give you one, meet me at lunch.”

It was finally the dreaded lunchtime, Venkat and Bill made eye contact with each other, and then it started an explosion of punches and kicks, Venkat was about to land a punch when Bill grabbed Venkat by the collar and was about to punch him when the bell rang! 

“Saved by the bell Venkat, you won't be so lucky next time.” Bill said

“ Next time?” Venkat said

It was finally winter break, and Venkat’s family was going to India for a trip, but Venkat hates India, he says there is “nothing to do” but his family was already there. Since there was nothing to do, he laid down on the bed and stared to infinity, but that all stopped when he heard this, "Venkataaaa! Oh no, his grandma was going to tell him to do some work. Boring!

“Venkitty go play, make some friends.”

“ Fine.” Venkat said

While he was walking his shoe got stuck in something! He got his shoe out and he dug out something. It was an old box that said: History of the Singhs.

He opened the box and he found a large piece of paper that read: 

"Belt Buckle aka Soup-erman saves the day from Noodleman!!! Soup & Noodles go well together… but not this time!!! He read all about Soup-erman’s adventures & victories against Noodleman! He came across a page that said, "Venkat Singh will have fire power!"

Venkat’s eyes grew wide and he jumped at least 5 feet in the air! He tried using his powers but no fire came out. He tried and tried but nothing. Just then the ghost of Soup-erman appeared out of nowhere and said, “You must find your inner calm, then and only then you will be able to use your powers.”

And just as quickly as he appeared he disappeared. Venkat thought hard about what this meant, then he got it! He meditated every morning and every night and he trained hard. By the end of his trip he mastered the power of fire!

After a long time of not being able to bully anybody, Bill challenged Venkat to a fight as soon as he saw him! Venkat accepted because he'd mastered the power of fire. They once again made eye contact and the battle began.

Bill made the first attack with water and caught Venkat by surprise. During this, Bill admitted that he was the great-great-grandson of Noodleman!

Venkat now knew that he had to send Bill crying to his mommy, he wouldn’t let Soup-erman down! Bill stopped the first few attacks of fire, but he wasn’t so lucky on the third one. The fire burned Bill’s hand, so he said “Owie mommy, Venkat hurt meeeeeee!”

Never again did anyone mess with Venkat. He moved on to become a bully patrol officer! This is only one of Venkat Singh’s great stories, there will be more to come. I assure you!

FLASH FICTION CONTEST #5

One week after the murderer of Henry Woodlaan, the Duke of England- people of the village of Vintzanberry grew more and more restless every day.

The parents of the town were now very careful not to let their own children wander about, the children could not play anywhere without having a watchful eye upon them. The Duchess was the most upset and spent most of her time in her bedroom, hiding her sorrow from the village people. Vintzenberry was no longer the care-free town with townsfolk humming as they hung up clothes to dry or where children gleefully played tag throughout the town square. Now it was all silent and quiet with the frequent sound of doors closing.--- On Tuesday, March 17th, Lizzie Jenise woke up to the smell of coffee, she got dressed, and went downstairs, finding her mother drinking a cup of coffee. “ Ah, Lizzie, good morning, I'm going over to the Duchess and bringing her tea since she's feeling ill, the babysitter will be over in a minute.” Lizzie reluctantly nodded, Lizzie's mother hugged her and went out the door.

“Christine! The Duchess is in her room, thank you for coming.”

The housekeeper said when she answered the door “thank you” Lizzie's mother, Christine replied as she went to Marie Woodlaan’s room, finding her laying in bed

 “Thank you Christine, I’m feeling better already,” the Duchess said after Christine had given her the tea she made

“You are most welcome, your grace,” Christine replied “I’m very sorry for what happened to your late husband, I hope you get better soon.”

“Yes, thank you,” The Duchess said sadly at the mention of the Duke.

On the way down the steps of the Duchess’s mansion Christine found a small white letter lying on the last step and it was addressed to a man named Toby Grenalds, there was no envelope and it was from someone named Ella Tese. Curious, Christine unfolded the letter and to her surprise this is what it said: “ Dear Toby, thank you for your kind assistance, the plan succeeded and I must admit, I did not think it would, he did not expect anything of the sort and I have already signed the contract to withdraw the money, again I thank you for your most utmost work, I will see you soon, Sincerely Marie Woodlaan” according to the letter the duchess was Elle Tese and she and a man named Toby was clearly up to something, Christine was about to take it in the car with her when she noticed a small dried up stain on the down right corner of the letter which seemed to be a splatter of dried up blood, beneath it there were small letters that Christine could barely make out as “I left a small drop of his blood on this page, evidence he is dead, again, thank you.”

Christine did not know of any recent deaths except for Henry Woodlaan, suddenly the letter made sense, the Duchess had worked with Toby to kill somebody -- her husband.

2 days before Lizzie’s mother picked up the letter, a letter was accidentally delivered to Christine instead of the Duchess, this was because the mailman had simply read the address wrong, Christine had ripped off the envelope and what she saw was very strange indeed, “ Marie, I poisoned the pasta and now he is well dead, how? I mixed the sauce with a plant called “deadly nightshade". He was immediately poisoned. I expect the money in 3 days, thank you, from Toby”. 

Christine was now sure they were the ones who murdered Henry and these are the facts on what happened next.

Christine reported to the police about the letters, The Duchess and her assistant Toby were arrested and imprisoned. Their original plan was to split the Duke's will after he was dead, the Duchess grew very impatient for money. She merely killed her husband and was going to withdraw the money from his will and share it with Toby.

This is the end of the story.

FLASH FICTION CONTEST #4

He tried to remember what he was told. Bend your knees, tuck yourself in, and…
“What ya doing?” A girl said from behind him.

“Agh! Oh, Jeez, don’t do that, Amy.” He sighed, rolling his eyes at his friend’s antics. “To answer your question, I’m attempting to do a backflip.”

He jumps off the elevated platform and attempts to flip in the air, which ends with him falling on his arm.

“You suck at this, Arnold. Here, let me try.” She snickers. She then goes up to the same platform Arnold was on and prepares to jump. “Clear the way!”

She flies through the air, seemingly about to do the perfect backflip. She then promptly falls, face planting into the stuffed mat beneath the two.

“Ow…”

“I guess you aren’t very good at this either.” He grins a teasing grin.

She adjusts herself to sit up. “Oh, shut it!”

“Nope. Take the L.” He then scratches his chin. “But how do you do a backflip?”
Getting up, she takes her phone out. “Maybe we could search it up?” There’s a pause as she types on her phone. “Found the Wikihow on it. First, you should plant your feet shoulder width apart, and raise your arms up in the air.”

“Like this?” He asks, crouching.

“Nope, bend your knees only slightly. In a high squat.”

“Then do I… swing my arms back?”

“Yup! Stop just behind you when you’re ready to backflip. Next, the tuck. Just transform into the fetal position. Then you keep your knees bent as you stick the landing!”

“Sounds simple enough, I’ll try it.” He goes up to the platform, jumps…

…And then lands on his head.

“I don’t think Backflips are for me.”

FLASH FICTION CONTEST #3

Jamal knew he might not make it out of this next robbery alive, but he couldn't resist the stories of wealth and power locked inside. Last night, he told his family he was going out to find work. If Jamal died, his wife might think he ran away. Jamal was starting to regret leaving the way he did. So he needed to get the job done and go home, no matter the cost.

He took note of every small change and detail until he was finally ready to attempt the robbery. Jamal was experienced, but he knew how easily he could be foiled. While casually engaging in conversation with a guard, he had easily pinched a walkie-talkie out of the guard's back pocket. At 8:25 pm, an agile figure scaled an oak tree and removed a phone from his pocket. At 8:30 pm the next night all guards were called to gate #3 due to an emergency.

Jamal carefully jumped from the tree into the bank’s fenced courtyard. Once the guards left, Jamal smashed the security cameras and carefully climbed the electric fence with gloves and boots. He tapped in the security password that he had watched the guards type in earlier that day and paused to destroy more cameras. He pushed an inflatable dummy through trip wires and caused chaos in every way. His face wore a confident grin as he strolled through the passages spreading mayhem and fear.

But the challenges were getting harder to evade…. An arrow came so close to hitting him that its fletchings scraped his neck and the rooms became darker and darker. He tried to remember that his kids and his spouse needed money. Jamal was thankful he had brought a flashlight when all the lights suddenly went out.

The guards quickly realized that there was no emergency and police began to roam the passages. Jamal's hair stood on end and he started to make very slow progress. He froze at the slightest noises and his flashlight began to flicker. He started to pray that he would see his children again. He came to three doors when he heard voices behind him. He opened the first one and cold steel grazed his neck. Bleeding and frantic, Jamal peeked into the next door.

"Your fun is over now," said the armed guard behind the door.

Jamal's children never saw him again…

FLASH FICTION CONTEST #7

It was the president’s birthday in The White House. A cupcake recipe had been concocted a week in advance to perfectly fit the president’s favorite dessert qualities. It was a chocolate cupcake with rainbow sprinkles mixed in the batter and some strawberry drizzle on top.

Even though he was the president, he had wished to celebrate by himself with his favorite dessert. The president’s personal waiter, Samuel Kiff brought him the cupcake with a single lit candle on top. “Happy Birthday, Mr. President!,” said Samuel. “What’s your wish?” The president closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them he let out a deep sigh and blew out his candle. As he took the wrapper off his cupcake he said “I wish…to never eat again.” and took a bite. 

The president died and upon inspection his cupcake had been poisoned. The vice president was to become the new president tomorrow. Later that night, the president’s wife heard a scream and ran downstairs. The baker who had made the president’s cupcake was dead. Her wine had been poisoned. 

The president’s wife called the police and Samuel’s room was searched. The cops found a bottle of poison under some clothes in his closet. Samuel was immediately arrested. He begged and pleaded with the cops, claiming he was innocent. Nobody seemed to believe him. 

The president’s wife was told to stay in her room for the rest of the night, with her windows closed and her door locked. Extra security was put around her. The next day, the president’s wife moved out and the new president moved in. 

The new president had a good first day. He enjoyed perfectly seasoned scrambled eggs, mouth-watering rib-eye steak and a fresh tuna salad with delicious side-dishes and snacks. His wife decorated their bedroom and told the chefs about the president’s peanut allergy. The president had to get used to living in a giant house with people doing everything for you all the time. The next day he told his staff he had slept like a baby. They were pleased to hear this and asked him what he wanted for breakfast. He asked for an omelet and buttered toast. 

The president sat down at the table and waited for his wife. Shortly after she had sat down next to him, their food arrived. The president wolfed down his omelet. Halfway through her omelet, his wife said she had to go to the bathroom. 

When she came back, she found her husband dead, with a half eaten slice of toast next to his dangling hand. Just like the other two murders committed recently in The White House, he had been poisoned. Since Samuel Kiff was in jail and the president’s wife was in the bathroom, nobody knew who had done it.

So now, they have called upon a great detective to find the culprit. That detective is you. Who killed the president, vice president, and baker? What were their intentions? Was the waiter framed?

FLASH FICTION CONTEST #2

Far away from Earth, lightyears from our galaxy, the planet Soren thrives.

It is a bright place, one with unique life forms and surprising landmarks. Quiet and calm, Soren has much life. One of the creatures are bat-birds, which are four-legged birds with the wings of bats. For the bat-birds, things are peaceful. That is, for now..


The day the virus hit, Pebble was helping her mother collect water. The day was cool and cloudy. The well in the yard squeaked as Pebble pulled up the pail from the depths. She set it down on the dry grass and looked back at mother, who was bringing out more pails.

“Do you remember Maple? The neighbor?” Mother was asking. Pebble nodded.

“She died not long ago.” Mother said.

“How?”

“I think it is from that weird new virus thing,” she grabbed a pail.

Pebble wasn’t fazed. Everyone gets sick from time to time, right? She took her waterlogged bucket home. As the sun began to set, she went outside to get more water when she heard a violent coughing sound. Startled out of what she was doing, Pebble turned. Her bluish gray feathers ruffled as she followed the noise to the front yard.

Her brother was there. He was the one coughing. His eyes were glazed and Pebble leapt back. She dropped the bucket clamped in her beak and it clanged against one of her forelegs. Quickly, she spun back around and sprinted inside. “Mother?” She called shakily. Her mother’s head poked out of her room. “Lark is really sick,” she said, “Can you go check?”

Mother turned and followed her daughter out the door. When she saw Lark, she told Pebble to stay home while she took him to the clinic. Pebble had a really bad feeling about what was happening..

A week or so had passed. More and more were getting sick, and more and more were dying. The news spread through the flock and Lark had been at the clinic for many days now.

Pebble was at home, quietly picking at her claws when mother stepped in. “Another one in this flock is dead,” she said. Pebble lifted her head sympathetically. How many more would die until the virus was over? It had only been a week, but it was already destructive enough.

Pebble awoke, feeling fuzzy and strange. Her claws searched for the glass of water near the bed, and when she drank, her throat burned. It was pitch-black outside and the moon glimmered softly outside.

“It can wait until tomorrow,” she said to herself, voice hoarse, and settled down once more. Pebble shifted, tossing and turning until she finally fell asleep. But not for long..

She awoke, gasping for breath. Breathing was suddenly difficult and she struggled to sit up. What was happening? She tried to prop herself up and she tried to slow her breathing before the coughing spells started. Was it the virus? She was sure it was.

She was in the clinic, swallowing bitter medicine and hoping to get better. The weird illness seemed to have slowed and the nurses told her it was because she got medication early on. Extremely grateful, Pebble only stayed there for a few days. When she returned, she had to stay away from mother in fear of not spreading any leftovers of the virus. Now stuck in her room, she stared out the window. What were once teeming, busy streets were now deserted and empty.

A few days later, finally allowed outside of her locked-down room, Pebble was reading and quietly glancing out of the window. It had been a few days since Lark had died and with each day, the sad reality of the “Bat-bird virus” was getting heavier. Was there any light to the stricken flock?

It had been a month. Then two. Things were starting to look up.

A strange new medicine had been made and it was said to help with the “bat-bird” virus and was being spread for testing. Mother fell ill but tried the medicine. The result was shocking.

In days, Pebble’s mother began to heal. Her eyes brightened and the coughing fits were wiped out in the first few hours. After less than a week, Mother was back to working around the house, cleaning, scolding her daughter and more. The large flock was slowly but surely returning to health.

Then, one day, Pebble stepped outside. A good half-year had passed. One of healing, hoping and hospitals. As the grayish blue bat-bird glanced around she saw a few young fledglings playing outside and at that moment she knew the state of things had changed.

A few weeks passed, and the flock was pretty much back to normal. The flock was recovering well and now Pebble had her story to share.

Pebble took out her notebook and opened it. She took her bottle of ink and set it down at the edge of the notebook. It was a beautiful day with warm sun and a cool wind. She began to think about what to write, and then froze. She had an idea.

Pebble dipped a claw into the ink and wrote, at the top of her paper,

THE VIRUS OF SOREN...

  

FLASH FICTION CONTEST #1

As the song finishes, we adjust our skirts and fix our bows. When the lights turn off, we skate out, the cold air on our skin. After one last practice, we were ready. With the first note of the music, we pull into our spin. Left, stop. Right, stop. Two feet, stop. Then move. Skating and clapping in synchronization.

As the first line finishes, I lead my group. In our line we do the dance. Left, right, stomp, stomp. Then glide. The first line goes out, executing perfect spirals before turning into our circle. Then my line. In our circle we pump our feet. Then it’s time for jumps. Crossover, crossover, crossover…waltz jump, waltz jump! Get in the line, and dance again. Left, right, stomp, stomp. Cross to the middle and split to the sides. Left, right, repeat.

Over and over, until nobody is left. In the middle we take hands and skate forward. One, two, three, dip! Now up again. Clap, clap, and we move to our spin spots. Each with our own move, sit spin, scratch spin, one foot, or two. Cross together and make our lines. Now for everyone’s favorite part. We go down the middle each with a unique trick.

I wait until my turn and skate out. I go into a spiral, and grab my blade behind me. Holding until I cross the ice, I slowly release and skate around. One last time, we do our dance. Left, right, stomp, stomp. Swizzle, swizzle, then move our arms and pose! As we wait for the lights to go off, I feel so many things. Happy, proud, but most of all, sad.