Happy Friday everyone! Here’s a little story I wrote, hope you enjoy!

Space Walk by Adam Wright

Transmission begins

Empty. Vast. Infinite. It’s everything I have ever imagined it would be. The universe expands beyond the line of my sight and off into the black eternity of forever. The quiet here is perfection. The only sound is my breathing, in and out. The exhalations of my lungs, automatic and repetitive, keep going. There is nothing else. Not all the bright stars I can see, not all the planets who have died out eons ago but are still shining to my eyes. The only thing that matters now is the breath of my lungs. 

I see the space ship floating away from me. Rather, I float away from it but I can’t tell the difference. The hose of my tether is leaking oxygen as it hangs off the side of the ship, flopping like a sprinkler gone mad. I hope Molly remembers me. I’ll never know.

Communications are lost, visual is sketchy at best. I dreamed of being up here since I was six years old, wanting to understand how I am part of this vast universe and what an insignificant creature like me could possibly hope to do with that knowledge. I’m ultimately about to become a part of what we all will be someday, so much cosmic dust and debris. I don’t mind. It’s enough for me to know I was here and I saw it. I only wish I could document it. This recording may reach someone someday. I have no way of knowing if they will be able to understand it or if they will have any idea of who I was. I suppose it doesn’t matter.

I may go peacefully, the last of my oxygen cutting out and with a bit of mercy, I will become unconscious before the end. The other possibility is I will be ripped apart violently by something floating out here with me. A cosmic missile, that might crack my face shield or tear open my suit, or if I am unlucky, gouge right through me. I hope the end comes quickly and there is enough blood loss for me to pass out before I feel the impact. Or perhaps the vacuum of space will do its violence to me and choke me to death in mere seconds.

Molly never wanted me to leave. How could I tell her what it means to be out here? How could I say to her that as much as she means to me, I still have to see this, to experience this? One person can’t compete with the vastness of the cosmos. I’m living proof of that right now. Well, living for the moment at any rate.

There are unexplainable sights, there are stars beyond the beauty of humanity out here. There is a vast and deep universe. It’s secrets will never be completely unlocked. I don’t mind. I get to be a part of it now. To all those who ever knew me or loved me, goodbye. Molly, I hope you hear this but even if you don’t, I was thinking of you at the end. Go out and explore. 

Transmission ends.

Enjoy my Flash Fiction Fridays? Consider supporting independent authors by purchasing one of these collections for only $4.99 Flahbang! Volume 1, Flashbang! Volume II, Flashbang Volume III.

Happy Friday internet folks! Here’s a little story I wrote, hope you enjoy!

Invasion by Adam Wright

It was early morning when the sirens blared. The skies went dark and there was a smell of sulfur in the air. We ran out into the streets clutching our ears against the noise. Despite the darkness, glaring lights broke through. I had to shield my eyes from the intense pain of it. Most of us clutched our ears against the din. The sirens sounded loud and long, rescue vehicles making their way to pick up whatever wreckage they could. The low hum wouldn’t stop. The constant noise drove some of us mad.

I watched as people jumped from windows, making the sign of their faith as they fell to their death on the concrete below. Had I known what was in store, I would have envied them their foresight. Walking past the rubble and the wreckage it was too surreal to understand. 

There had been no warning, nothing to alert us. In my mind, when I remember those moments, I still imagine the ships as flat saucers. The screen footage shows the reality of gigantic structures, larger than mountains, all in slick lines and angles, like arrows fired from an ancient bow. Yet, I see the saucers. I guess it’s what I expected them to look like. Little green men, you know?

I had been on my way to work like most of us. I grabbed a little pick me up beverage, part of my morning routine, and was close to the building. Seconds later I ducked for cover and wondered what could possibly come next. 

The news feeds picked it up quickly. If I had access to a screen at the time, I would have gathered more information. As it was, I was concerned with surviving the moment and getting to Sara. I had to know she was alright.

The school was near me and I felt my legs pumping before I realized what I was doing. I traveled past the rescue vehicles, past fires already burning. I covered my ears. I don’t know when I realized I dropped everything I needed for work. All the documents and plans for the day were irrelevant. Forgotten detritus in a sea of debris that no longer mattered. Everything we knew, everything we understood changed forever in a matter of minutes. There was no turning back from it and no escape. 

I arrived at the school and rushed past the gates, into the building. Sara was covering her head, cowering in the corner with a few others. I picked her up and ran outside. She clutched my side and clung to my clothing. I had no idea where to go. It was too big for me to understand. How could anyone understand this?

I imagined we would have to look to our leaders to sort this out, if it could be sorted out. In moments giant view screens appeared in front of us. It seemed they materialized out of nowhere. I still don’t know how they accomplished that. Then we saw the gruesome faces, shades of many colors, tiny eyes and mouths, snarling, speaking in languages we could not possibly know.

It took months for us to fight back. Months to gather resources, plan strategies, and attack without a word of warning, just as they did to us. Every day during that time, I had one goal. Keep Sara alive. I’m not a perfect parent but I did my job. I sacrificed as much as anyone else to do it but I have no regrets.

After it was all over, after we beat them back and they left us alone, Sara had aged more than I could have imagined. I’d done my part, fought alongside the others. It was just luck I was in the battalion that destroyed their main ship. But it was satisfying seeing those aggressive and angular structures split apart in a burst of fire and flames.

After all the heroes’ welcomes and accolades I received, I think there is only one relevant question. Of course, Sara was the one to ask it. I wish I had an answer for her then or now when she said, “Where is Earth and why do they want to destroy us?”

I fear there is no answer I can give her. I only pray they never decide to come back.

Happy Friday everyone! Here’s a little story I wrote, hope you like it. And remember, always buy the cookie!

Twenty Years of Walking Away by Adam Wright

“Is that it then?” She bit her lower lip.

“That’s it. Nothing more to say. See you around, Sara,” Francesco wrapped his scarf around his neck.

She blew on her hands and shoved them into the pockets of her pea coat. Her steel blue eyes met his. They lingered on him. It was a searching look, one filled with despair and the slightest hint of hope.

His eyes turned away. He turned and walked away. He felt the pinch of his toes inside his loafers as he walked. He passed stores full of winter coats, people laughing as they walked past him, and he could smell the scent of chocolate chip cookies wafting  from a cart near the corner. 

Sometimes he felt the walk never ended. Twenty years of Francesco walking away from her. He’d convinced himself it was the right thing to do. When there were no words left, when you had gone through everything, and you knew there was no more to it, you walked away. That’s what you did. 

But if walking away was the right thing, why did he always return to the memory? Why was he still walking? The same corner, the same winter, the same day, every year.

The first year, he hoped he would spot her. He thought maybe he could admit he was wrong and they would hold gloved hands, buy a cookie from the cart and split it down the middle. The second year, he held out hope, noticing subtle changes in the winter coats that adorned the store windows. The third year, he spotted a woman in a pea coat. He ran to tap her on the shoulder but when he got close enough, he saw the woman had her hair tied up in a bun with a silver bobby pin. It wasn’t Sara. He brushed past the woman with slight embarrassment, hoping she wouldn’t think too much of it. The fourth year, he almost gave up. He had a cold anyway but he thought of how much he missed her. He wandered, coughing into his elbow for hours. She wasn’t there. The fifth year, the cart was gone but there was a truck with an expanded menu of cookies. Francesco only smelled chocolate chip coming from it. 

He tried to reach out to her. Her phone number was changed. Someone new lived in her apartment. Her email bounced back to him with the message “unable to send messages.” They stared at him like accusations. He had relationships, mostly short, with the occasional glimmer of commitment. They never quite stuck. He didn’t remember walking away from those women, only from Sara.

The sixth year, he brought flowers with him. He thought if he had them, he could give them to her if he saw her, and if not, he could give them to a little girl and make her day. He saw a six year old girl in a red coat, clutching a chocolate chip cookie in one hand, holding her mother’s in the other. The girl was thrilled to have flowers and a cookie on the same day. The seventh year, he walked to the corner from the other side. Maybe it was direction that made the difference. He wasn’t sure why he kept doing it. The eighth year, his sister was visiting the city. In a pretense of showing her the sights, Francesco made sure to walk by the corner on the same day. His sister asked him if he wanted a cookie. He declined and waited for her to come back. She gave Francesco one anyway. He didn’t eat it. The ninth year, it was snowing. He bought a new pea coat and went back to the corner. He pretended he was a tourist, acting as if he was lost in the big city. It didn’t help and it didn’t stop the memory from returning. The tenth year, the truck was gone and there was a bakery there in its place. Francesco didn’t go inside. Sara wasn’t there. It still smelled like chocolate chip cookies.

Gray invaded his hair. His job prospects became better as time went on. He had so much but no Sara. He was tired of looking for her but something in him made him return to the corner. The kiss she planted on him the first time they went on a date, light like a feather, her head moving in like a bird. It was the sweetest kiss he ever received. 

The eleventh year, was a work meeting. He scheduled it at the restaurant near the corner. His partners wanted to go to the bakery across the way for dessert. Jim had a slice of cake at the restaurant instead. The twelfth year, Francesco stood on the corner for almost an hour. No one noticed he was there. He noticed Sara wasn’t. The thirteenth year, he nearly gave up. He brought a picture with him, just in case she changed her hair or her face had rounded out in all that time. Francesco’s had. The fourteenth year, the bakery had repainted the exterior. There was a chocolate chip cookie with little hands and feet and googly eyes. The chips were arranged in a smile. Francesco didn’t stay long. He stopped hoping for Sara and started coming back from habit. The fifteenth year, he wanted to buy a coat but the coat shop had become a video game store. Sara still was not there.

He stopped questioning why he kept doing it. He started to think of it as his annual tradition, one held for himself and no one else. Like a sad Christmas card to send himself, just for kicks. He didn’t stop doing it though.

The sixteenth year he heard a joke that made him laugh, but he forgot it almost instantly. The seventeenth year pea coats were back in style and twice he thought he saw her. He was wrong both times. The eighteenth year he realized how old he felt. His legs ached in the cold now. He wrapped a scarf around his face for warmth. He could smell the cookies through the scarf. The nineteenth year, Francesco was on a date. He booked a table for two at the same restaurant from years before, the one that looked out on the corner. He hated himself for doing it. The twentieth year he was single again. When he got to the corner he stood. He thought about her eyes. They were steel blue and they held a hint of hope in them. 

This was going to be the last year he did this. No more regrets. He couldn’t change the past. He’d done all he could to find her. It was time to move on. He went to the bakery to buy a cookie.

Sara was behind the counter. She wore a pink apron, her hair was tied in a bun with a silver bobby pin holding it in place.

Francesco closed his eyes and reopened them. It was Sara. Her hair had a streak of gray cutting into the blonde but her eyes were steel blue. Instead of a hint of hope, they held happiness.

“Francesco?”

He nodded.

“It’s been so long. I’ve got so much to tell you,” she said.

She told him how after he left, she followed him for a minute but decided to go to the cookie cart to make herself feel better. The man selling cookies at the cart was named Jordan. That’s what she named their first son. The business was good, growing each year. Soon they had enough for a truck, then a bakery. They’d remodeled it once. Francesco remembered.

Francesco couldn’t think of much to say so he told her how his business had grown as well.

“You know, I have a view of the corner from here. It’s funny but I think I’ve seen you standing out there,” she said.

“I do. Sometimes.” He blew on his hands and put them in his pea coat. 

“I wanted to come out and talk to you but it was always so busy here. And you told me there was nothing more to say. I hope you’ll come back,” she said.

She handed him a cookie. It was chocolate chip. When Francesco tried to pay she wouldn’t let him. He took his cookie and walked away. He never ate it. He just kept walking. 

Happy Friday those of you out in cyberland! For my first Flash Fiction Friday of the year, I thought I would give you a story about New Year resolutions. Hope you enjoy!

Resolutions by Adam wright

Resolutions

1. Reduce the number of alien strongholds on the planet
2. Depower the CPU controlling all of the death robots
3. Clear the zombie fields
4. Finally patch up that garden and grow my own tomatoes
5. Utilize the high powered syringe rifles to cure the vampire hoard
6. Steal the codes from the megacorporation and transfer currency to the populace
7. Stop that knife wielding lunatic who keeps offing teenagers at that lake
8. Refresh the uploads on my cybernetic implants
9. Ensure the slumbering creature at the bottom of the ocean does not wake this year
10. Develop a more utilitarian saddle for riding the land worms

Affirmations

1. I can and will achieve my goals this year
2. I am the best me I can be
3. When the mind is set to win, the world is mine to win
4. If you imagine the impossible, you make the impossible, possible
5. If I fail at my goals I need to forgive myself
6. The world is laughing with me, not at me
7. Don’t carry the burdens of the world on your own shoulders
8. Taking time to clear my head is not selfish
9. I am strong, I am attractive, I am wise
10. There is not a death trap, tractor beam, minefield, laser grid or negative attitude I cannot survive

Annual goal setting mission statement

This year I will bring my best self to all that I do. I will be present in the moment and appreciate the life I have. I will not be envious of others who have more than me but will be grateful for what I do have. If I follow my plans I will be able to achieve my goals. I simply need to focus and I can perform better than I ever have. The cursed doll running amuck in the attic is not my fault but I will do my best to deal with it this year.

Obstacles

1. A negative mindset
2. An unwillingness to try new things
3. Language barriers between myself and the wolf creatures who keep growing to unusual size before devouring innocent bystanders
4. A year may seem like a long time but time is not on my side
5. Rat swarms
6. The possibility that the refrigeration units may have become sentient
7. I can be too hard on myself sometimes
8. Trusting innocent looking children who are capable of shapeshifting is not a good idea
9. I need to be more organized
10. Whatever that portal seems to be doing

Reality check on above resolutions

Who am I kidding? I do this to myself every single year. I should take that one off the list. I don’t know why I keep putting it there. I’m never going to garden. I don’t even like tomatoes!

Happy Friday internet people! It’s been a few weeks since I posted one of these. Hope you like it and let me know what you think in the comments!

Distracted Driving – By Adam Wright

Kevin’s pickup truck rattled down the highway. The black asphalt and white stripes on the road whizzed by in front of his eyes in a rhythmic pattern. He stretched his arm across the passenger seat and let out a yawn as he stretched.

He was singing along to some eighties song he’d heard a million times before. The name escaped him. Something about a movie he’d never watched. A glance at the clock told him it was near midnight. Another hour on the road would get him home. All he had to do was stay awake. 

A sip of coffee might be nice but then he’d need to pull over to pee. No way he’d be able to bring himself to keep driving after. Better to hold it.

His eyes were getting heavy when he saw a flash of white in front of his eyes. It was a barefoot woman in a white dress. She was beautiful with raven hair draped down her shoulders. She was in the middle of the road but when Kevin’s headlights shone at her they seemed to go through her, as if she wasn’t there at all.

Slowing the truck to a crawl, he wiped his eyes and opened them again. There was nothing there. Kevin convinced himself he was just seeing things when a voice rang out next to him.

“Jesus, Deep Blue Something? That band was old when I was still alive. Update your taste.” 

Kevin turned to see the woman from the road in his passenger seat. He yanked his arm back and opened his mouth. 

“Don’t scream. I’m so damn tired of screaming. Just get used to it. I don’t want to be here any more than you want me to.”

“You’re a…?”

“You’re driving late at night in an old truck on an open road. What did you expect? Yes, I’m a ghost. Happy now? Do you have a cell phone?”

Kevin tried to talk but a squeak came out.

“It’s not a complicated question. I know your truck looks like it’s from the 80’s but people don’t operate without cell phones anymore. I’m hoping to catch up on the news a little. Maybe watch some Tik-Tok videos. Where is it?”

Kevin pointed to the glove box.

“Can you take it out? I’m not solid anymore. Just start up whatever your favorite social media is. I’ll take anything. Hell, even if it’s NPR. Just hit play on something for me.”

“Uh… are you trying to haunt me? Did I do something to you?”

“Nope. Not trying to haunt anyone. Anytime one of these rickety old ass trucks show up out of nowhere, BOOM, I’m in it.”

Kevin jumped at the sound of the word BOOM.

“Don’t be so jumpy. I’m harmless, promise. I’m just bored as hell. The phone, can you?”

“Why are you here?” Kevin was twenty four years old but his voice cracked as he spoke as if he was fifteen.

“Do you want the long story or the short one? Short one’s easier.”

Kevin watched as a car drove towards his truck, the headlights flashing in his eyes for a brief moment.

“Uh.. short one?”

“I died, hoped to get revenge against my boyfriend. It didn’t work out. Now I’m here. Like, forever I guess.”

Kevin stared at the open road. He didn’t make a move toward the glove box.

“Fine, you want the long version. You’ve heard of the asphalt strangler? Yeah, turns out that asshole was my boyfriend. I had no idea. I found some gritty evidence in his truck one day and, well, you can guess what a dude called the asphalt strangler did to me. I swore with my dying breath I’d get revenge on him and next thing you know, I’m on this highway looking for trucks. Can’t help it.”

“But didn’t…”

“Yeah, that’s the part that didn’t work out. The asphalt strangler died of a goddamned heart attack. Can’t get revenge on a guy who is already dead and in hell can you? You’d think that would be the end for me but, oh no, here I am, night after night in random trucks with random dudes. Most of them are poor conversationalists too. Not like you though. I like you.”

“Thanks?”

“Seriously dude, the phone, like now.”

Kevin kept one eye on the road as he pulled the phone from the glove box. He looked away for the briefest of seconds. 

The world moved in slow motion as another truck slammed into the driver side door. Kevin felt himself tumbling, and saw his phone fly into the air.

“This is your fault, I’ll get you for this,” he spat the words at the woman in white.

The world went black.

Kevin opened his eyes. He was seated in a pickup truck, not unlike his own. There was a woman dressed in white next to him.

“What happened?”

“You wished for revenge. Welcome to the party.” The woman in white turned to the driver. “Do you have a cell phone?”