#5MinuteFiction Week 62

What is 5MinuteFiction, you say? It’s an adrenaline-fueled, instant-gratification sort of writing contest. Sound fun? Great! Get in there and get dirty!

The Rules

* You get five minutes to write a piece of prose or poetry in any style or genre

* You must directly reference today’s prompt: time

(Note: The prompt is the word. The picture is for decoration/inspiration.)

 
 * Post your entry as a comment to this post.

I’ll close the contest at 1:45. That gives you 5 minutes to write and ten to accommodate the vagaries of relative time, technology, and the fickle internets. If you are confused or just want to whine, feel free to email me.

At the close of the contest, this week’s guest judge, Pavarti K Tyler, @PavartiKTyler  will nominate five finalists.

Special Programing Note: There’s prizes this week! 🙂 Our judge has offered the winner’s choice of a bound copy of her story, Fragrant Taste of Rain, an itunes gift card, or a collection of awesome Pavarti Swag! Check her blog for more details.

I’ll put the nominees in a poll, and at 9:00 EDT tomorrow I’ll close the poll and declare the winner.

For updates, you can subscribe to my RSS Feed, “like” my Facebook Page, or follow me on twitter.

What’s the prize? Well, nothing, obviously. But we’ll all agree to tweet and/or blog about the winner of today’s contest so their fame and fortune will be assured.

A Few Notes:

* In the interest of time and formatting, it’s best to type straight into the comment box or notepad. It’s also smart to do a quick highlight and copy before you hit “post” just in case the internets decide to eat your entry. If your entry doesn’t appear right away, email me sometimes comments go into the suspected spam folder and I have to dig them out.

* I reserve the right to remove hate speech or similar but I’m not too picky about the other stuff.

* This is all for fun and self-promotion. So be sure to put your twitter handle at the end of your post and a link to your blog if you have one.

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27 Responses to #5MinuteFiction Week 62

  1. Time was definitely not on her side.

    Why was it taking so long for the conversation to vanish? She’d hit “delete” three times already, and it was still up there on the screen — the delicious, flirtatious chat she’d had with her online friend… male friend… did friends talk to each other this way? Usually not. What should she call him then?

    Her mind was spinning. Panic started to rise in her throat. She hit “delete” again and stared at the screen, silently imploring with the Internet gods to hurry up and erase the evidence.

    She could hear her husband walking around downstairs.
    He’d gotten home half an hour earlier than usual.

    “Honey?” he called up from the bottom of the stairs. “Whatcha doing?”

    Her stomach flipped over. “Um, just shutting down the computer. Be right there.” She stared at the screen. The chat was still there. The little spinning circle was spinning, but nothing was happening. She was afraid to just turn off the computer — would the chat be right there when it was turned on again? What if her husband turned it on, not her? Why the fuck wasn’t it working?!?

    She heard her husband’s footstep ascending the staircase and her breath caught, stuck in her throat. Praying fervently, silently, she reached over and turned off the monitor just as he got to the door.

    @jennifergracen
    Jennifer Gracen recently posted..HomeMy Profile

  2. Your hair was red as the sunset and your eyes like the moonlit sky. You watched me and waited, and I didn’t answer you. Pools of water washed the stars from your eyes. But I said nothing. You said, “Please, Jonathan. Please.” And, that time, I walked away.

    Your hair was red as the clay matted in it and your eyes dark and empty as midnight when they found your body by the shores of the river.
    Leah Petersen recently posted..#5MinuteFiction Week 61 WINNER!My Profile

  3. DL Thurston says:

    It was finished, and it was beautiful. While most might design a prototype just to work, he designed his to also be a work of art, inspired in all ways by The Time Machine. His own machine wasn’t the construct of brass and oak described in the book, his was glass and steel, every bit a piece of modern machinery, planned and plotted to be a time capsule of early 21st century industrial design.

    Because, in a way, isn’t that exactly what it would automatically become?

    He nestled down next to the controls, and wondered where to go first. Prehistoric times to photograph a dinosaur? Meet DaVinci? Perhaps even travel forward to see what future lauds he would receive for finally cracking the nut, finally being the man who proved time travel possible.

    No. There would be time for those later. He chuckled at the pun. There’d be time for everything later, that was the point of his little invention. Start things easy. Next Tuesday.

    He flipped his fingers over the touch screens and felt his heart speed with anticipation as he engaged the rotors that would keep him rooted in space as time soared past. He eased up on the time break, engaged the engine, and watched as the world shot away from him as he stayed rooted in space.

    @DL_Thurston
    DL Thurston recently posted..#flashathon Early DetailsMy Profile

  4. Nicole says:

    Time slowed to the crawl of a drunken snail snotting across a frozen landscape, my scream floating over the tundra of my horror. “Yoooooooooooooouuuuuuuu what?”

    “I’m becoming a nun.” My daughter wore a face of sincerity, so different from what I was used to – the snarky smirk of a sixteen year old.

    Reality snapped like an overstretched rubber band, smacking me in the forehead. Everything returned to its normal speed. “Uh, okay.” Calm, calm, I demanded. “When did you decide this?”

    “This morning. Right after I saw Gino Morelli kissing that skank from our calculus class.”

    “You do realize we’re Jewish, right?”

    Her brow wrinkled. “So? What does that have to do with anything? There aren’t Jewish nuns?”

    The corner of my mouth twitched in time to the heavy beating of my heart, calming now. For a second I thought she’d been serious. “Does the Catholic church on the corner employ a nun named Sister Ziva?”

    “What?”

    “You’ll make a very nice shiksa,” I said, grinning. “Welcome to the convent.”

    @nicolewolverton
    Nicole recently posted..Men Are From MarsMy Profile

  5. Brian Cortijo says:

    Jamie sat there, whistling, as the words of the chorus rolled through her head.

    ‘Tiiiiiiiiiiime, is on my side….’

    “Yes it is,” she intoned, well off key, and started whistling again.

    Of course, it wasn’t.

    That damned paper was due in all of an hour, and she was on page three.

    Of ten.

    She always wrote in line-and-a-half spacing, rather than double. That would get her a whole three-quarters of a page, tops.

    Oh! She could write that damned Bibliography page. It would only take a couple of minutes. There! All done. Four pages finished. Yipee.

    Fifty-four minutes left.

    Maybe she could sing her way through them.

    “Tiiiiiiiiime…,” she rasped, her throat suddenly dry.

    Whose side was all this time on, anyway?

    twitter: @briancortijo

  6. Sarah checked the clock above the front door. She paced around the living room. One more minute. He had one more minute. She started to chew at her fingernails. Her heart raced, she thought about what might happen if he was late, or didn’t show at all.

    Suddenly her thoughts were interrupted when the doorbell rang. Her arm hair stood at attention. It couldn’t be him…

    She slowly opened the door, it made a long loud creeking noise as she peered out into the night.

    “I have your pizza ma’am, that will be $14.95.” The freckled faced teen said with a smile.

    “God Damn it!” Sarah shouted “Thirty more seconds and this would have been free!”

    @THansenWrites

  7. MMMReader says:

    Seven am on the morning of her twenty-sixth birthday, Shelly stared at the ceiling fan over the bed in her mother’s guestroom. How did she get here? She was in debt up to her eyeballs and after years working toward her degrees she still had no job, no boyfriend and very little hope. As a tear streaked down her cheek she vowed this year would be different.
    “Shelly” her mother called from down stairs. Could her mother have gotten her a birthday surprise this year. She usually forgot.
    Her mother usually left for work, at seven so Shelly knew she had to hurry to see what the surprise was.
    Once they made eye contact Shelly knew her mom wasn’t thinking about Shelly’s birthday. “I backed into your car on my way out the driveway. Take if for an estimate and I’ll pay for the damages.” Her mom said and then ran out the door.
    Yep, this year was going to be a great one.

    @MMMReader

  8. Ack! Twitter handle at end! @jennifergracen
    Jennifer Gracen recently posted..HomeMy Profile

  9. Beatboxing had always been one of Micah’s superpowers. True, most in the outside world would argue that his powers of mind-control and walking through walls deserved higher mention, but Micah preferred beatboxing. And beatboxing was what he was up to at the moment that Kronos, the evil god of time appeared in front of him, determined to finally beat his 8 year old nemesis.

    “Can you come back later?” Micah asked, annoyed. “I’m practicing right now.”

    “This is later,” Kronos sighed exasperatedly. “You told me later to come back earlier, so this is later for me and earlier for you. I’m the god of time; don’t argue with me about ‘later.'”

    “No.” Micah stared penetratingly at Kronos, deciding that now was as good a time as ever to make use of his mind control abilities. “You want to come back later so I can defeat you then.”

    “Oh. Okay,” said Kronos, and disappeared.

    Micah finished his beatboxing, and then cleared his throat. When Kronos didn’t immediately appear, he realized it was because clearing his throat sounded too much like his present activity. So he tried again,saying,

    “You can come back now. I’m ready to defeat you.”

    Kronos appeared immediately. “Jeez, that took forever,” he complained.

    “Who’s the 8 year old here?” Micah asked. “Learn some patience.”

    “Fine,” said Kronos. “And now! You will meet your evil end, Super-Micah!”

    “Or so you wish!” cried Micah. “I will never again allow you to manipulate time and ruin the timestream continuum, or interrupt my favorite past time!” He grabbed Kronos and started walking through the nearest wall.

    “Owwww!” yelled Kronos. “Owwwww!”

    Micah ran off, leaving Kronos stuck partway through the wall.

    “Try controlling time now!” he chortled. “Once again, Super-Micah is victorious!”

    And with that, Micah returned to his beatboxing.

    @Rachel_Emily

  10. Kathleen says:

    @Kathleen_Doyle

    Time stopped. Every clock read half past three, but the sun touched the horizon. Amanda sat in her chair, looking out the window at the sun set. She couldn’t bring herself to turn on the television or the radio. The blanket did nothing to warm her as she pulled it tighter around her.

    “I warned you,” she said to the empty room.

    Dreams came to her weeks ago. Dreams about this very day.

    “Crack-pot.”

    “Nutter.”

    “Whack-job.”

    The names others called her still reverberated through her mind. Anger no longer welled within her at the thought.

    Tears trickled down her cheeks, unwanted but unavoidable.

    Time stopped, but only for the people in the world. The sun would still fall behind the earth and the world would still turn. Time would go on, but it had stopped for life.

    All life but Amanda’s.

    The cold metal of the barrel didn’t phase her. Neither did the ease with which she pulled back the hammer. She looked out at the horizon as she put the gun to her temple.

    “I warned you. And I was left alone. If you had believed me, you could have been saved too.”

    No one heard the sound of the gun going off. No one cared, for they were all gone before.

    Time stopped. Every clock read three thirty one…

  11. oh, and my twitter is @Rachel_Emily 🙂
    Emily Rae Robles recently posted..Book Review: The Immortal Life of Henrietta LacksMy Profile

  12. Time.

    Such an innocuous little word. Non-threatening unless you don’t have it. Annoying if you have too much of it.

    Rachel thought she had plenty of time, but now that she was forty and had her first mammogram, she realized the error of her ways.

    Everything was wonderful until the doctor found a lump, told her it was probably nothing but to bring her husband to her next appointment.

    It wasn’t until after the biopsy and the surgery that time took on a new meaning.

    “You don’t have much time,” the doctor said.

    “Get your affairs in order,” her lawyer said.

    “Make you peace with God,” her minster said.

    But as she prepared to jump out the door of the plane and pull the rip cord, she knew she wasn’t going to waste her time doing those things.

  13. Amber Skye says:

    There wasn’t time. The seconds ticked down and Laura knew this was it. Her heart raced faster, and her body undulated of its own accord, understanding the urgency. A sigh, a moan. He clutched her, his fingers cutting into her flesh.

    Then he came. He stopped breathing, and his face turned red. Finally, he collapsed on top of her. No, she hadn’t made it in time. Again. She never did. Would she never have an orgasm?

    @a_skye
    Amber Skye recently posted..Let’s Talk About PornMy Profile

  14. Kaolin Fire says:

    Time stopped again. People froze in their tracks; not even the wind stirred. A giant eye looked in at it all, nudged a few things. The people moved again, and he sat back. Maybe this time it would work….

    @kaolinfire

  15. Jen DeSantis says:

    “It’s time,” I whispered, nudging my sleeping husband with my cold toes.

    He looked at me groggily, unable to see in the darkness. “Time for what?” he asked.

    “What do you think?” I asked, an edge of irritation hardening my words.

    I peeled the comforter off and threw my legs out of bed. Navigating the room during the night had become second nature to me over the past several months. It seemed I spent more time out of my bed at night than I did in it.

    “Right,” he grunted, fumbling for his glasses on the bedside table.

    “Hurry up then,” I called, lumbering through the door. “Can’t be late.”

    “Don’t see why we both need to be awake,” he grumbled, but I heard him moving in spite of his mumbling.

    It was only fair. I’d done the bulk of the work in preparation for this night. Online ballots, countless entry forms . . . it was only fair that he lose a little bit of sleep in the end. As I trudged down the stairs, my body tensing with anticipation, I hoped that we’d come away lucky in the end. It wasn’t every night that you could sneak an early peek into the wizarding world.

    @JenD_Author

  16. He looked down at his watch. He was running out of time.

    Pocketing the watch, he looked around the crowded London street and quickly found the place he was looking for. He dodged between the people and made it to one of the large red postal cylinders. He bumped against it as the crowd pushed against him. He grunted in pain. The package under his long coat pushed against his rib and inflamed the wound there.

    Sweating, he pulled out the package and stuffed it into the mail pillar. He looked around again, but still didn’t see them. Quickly, he ran off, down the street.

    Then he heard them. The screeching came first, followed by the flap of wings. He turned, and knew immediately that was a mistake. There were three of them, large, black, man like creatures with talons instead of fingers, leathery bat wings on their backs, and the most disturbing faces he had ever seen. They had no eyes, but a great, grinning mouth filled with an impossible number of sharp teeth.

    No one else even reacted to them. No one else ever did. Until you became their pray, they were invisible. He turned to run, and checked his watch once more. He was hoping there was still time.

    He hit the edge of the bridge running and flipped himself over the edge. A woman screamed, and people started crowding around him. No, this would not do.

    “Get away!” he screamed, but no one listened.

    And then he heard them screech. They were perched on a statue across the bridge, looking at him. Just looking at him. He smiled. He pulled out his watch. He had made it. The package would be delivered, and he had made it here in time.

    He flipped his watch closed and let go of the railing.

    @blanchardauthor

  17. DeJean Smith says:

    *TICK*
    Slowly, patiently, the man in orange walks down the hall.
    *TICK*
    His feet drag slightly, the rubber soles of his tennis shoes catching on the freshly waxed linoleum, nearly tripping him. His feet stutter before he catches himself. It’s hard to do when you cannot use your arms for balance.
    *TICK*
    A soft murmur hums next to him. A man in a suit, an open Bible in his hand, reciting words of comfort, words of healing; words that rattle on and on and mean absolutely nothing right now.
    *TICK*
    Two guards keep in step beside the slow strides of the man in orange. They do not touch him. They do not rush his pace. They are merely there to herd him toward the small dark room at the end of the hall.
    *TICK*
    A ragged breath is drawn as the door comes into focus. It’s a simple metal portal. One that separates life from death.
    *TICK*
    The pneumatic engages and the door slides open.
    *TICK*
    A heartbeat accelerates. Blood pumps fast and furious. The man feels lightheaded and stumbles once again but this time, he cannot blame the floor.
    *TICK*
    A chair. A seat. Velcro restraints; black atop an orange jumpsuit.
    *TICK*
    Silence
    *TICK*
    *TICK*
    *TICK*
    A phone rings.
    *TICK*

    @Dejeansmith

  18. Miranda says:

    “Ugh,” I groaned as I pushed away from my desk, watching the door across the office floor open ponderously.

    Every day, the same thing happened at the same time. The boss would walk out of his enclave looking like a king–or a tyrant as we usually called him—surveying his kingdom. He never actually came out on the floor, but stared from the threshold of his office door while all of his little workers scurrying away, toiling at their tasks, all for his gain.

    If one of us was privileged with his glance, he may crack a smile, all the while staring down his nose. Usually, all we got was a barely satisfied glower. I hoped for the glower. The smile made me fill like I was on his radar and I most certainly did not want to be a target.

    Mr. Masters, the boss/tyrant, did something unusual today. He actually stepped onto the office floor. He was actually blessing us with his presence. I was struck between the desire to hide from his gaze like I normally would, or watch to see what he would do next.

    @MLGammella

  19. It was standing room only in the small chapel on 53rd and Waco. Pastor Sciutto stood over the casket, a single tear traveling down his right cheek.

    “Friends and loved ones, we are gathered here on this occasion to commemorate the passing of James Fitzpatrick. His time has finally come.”

    With one enormous shout, the chapel erupted into applause. Formal black clothes were stripped to reveal colorful party wear underneath. Confetti fell from the ceiling. No fewer than seven attendees broke out into a rendition of “Ding Dong the Witch Is Dead.”

    Pastor Sciutto continued over the din of mirth and gladness, “This day will long be remembered long after we are all gone. School children will stay at home, banks will be closed, Kohl’s will have a special twenty percent off all designer jeans weekend, in memory of this great and glorious day when James Fitzpatrick’s time finally ran out!”

    The front door to the chapel burst open, and there stood James Fitzpatrick. The joyous celebration ceased immediately.

    “What is going on?” James said.

    “Nothing,” Pastor Sciutto said, quickly jumping off the casket he had been riverdancing on just second before, “Just practicing.”

    @pyritedreamer
    http://briefconceits.com
    Eric Hamilton recently posted..Economy FixedMy Profile

  20. Chris Vola says:

    Clocks Made The Wars Work Harder

    Our immigrant grandfather sipped the bones of two shorelines, kneaded their bloody splinters into a timepiece built on a freak of nature.

    My immigrant brother saw the desert helicopter’s ugly bubble cockpit, checked his Casio and knew that within certain decades, the Moon is as imitated as a soldier.

    My immigrant fingers hide behind a swelling glass pendulum and next week’s podcast, unable to touch Manhattan through an astronaut’s suit.

    @chrisvola

  21. B.C. Young says:

    “Quick, what time is it?” Stan said.

    “10:33,” Rick answered.

    “Shoot. We’ll have to try something different. Grab that block, and smash it on my head.”

    “It’ll kill you if I do that.”

    “Doesn’t matter. It might be the only way out of this.”

    Rick picked up the large cinder block, while Stan rested his head on the table. He raised it up high in the air, and then brought it down with enough force to crush his skull. Blood splattered some. Then everything reversed again.

    “Quick, what time is it?” Stan said.

    “10:33,” Rick answered.

    “Shoot. We’ll have to try something different. Grab that block, and smash it on my head.”

    Twitter: @byoung210

  22. Monocle says:

    Eight years.

    The magnitude of it only began to weigh on Tanya days after the last of the injured were finally stabilized and in cryosleep. She’d given her berth, the last undamaged chamber to her almost-dead First Officer.

    Eight years alone, holding the injured colony-ship together until planet-fall in Felix system.

    Well, almost alone. The ship’s AI was still on-line. Mostly. It had been damaged in the meteor strike as well, and a third of its cybernetic pathways looked to be be fried. Including the language pattern generators.

    She was going to have to teach her computer to speak, and _then_ determine how badly it had been lobotomized. And just how much it would be able to help her repair the systems that continued to fail.

    She sighed and opened a new file. She was going to need more than a computer in the coming years. She was going to need a companion. Companions had names.

    “Hello Adam, I am Tanya Kimmer, Capatain of this ship, and, I’m… your friend.”

    A slow start, and an awkward one, she knew. But she knew she’d get it eventually. She had plenty of time.

    @_Monocle_

  23. “Bridge, Engine Room. We’re ready.”
    “Engine Room, Bridge. Acknowledge.”
    Captain Anderson walked from his chair to the view screen with his hands behind his back. The Sun was getting ever larger as the ship approached. Already the Aurora’s acceleration was increasing and kicking in the Tachyon drive would either push them straight into it’s heart, or through the times-pace rift and a new star system.
    “Engage.”
    The Aurora had no perceptible increase in speed, but he watched as the Sun grew impossibly big just as fast before disappearing with a blur and turning into a black star field.
    “Aft view,” he said with a relaxed tone that belied his emotions.
    The view, that of a receding white dwarf came up. They had done it.
    “Uh, sir?”
    “Yes Lieutenant?” Anderson answered with sudden relief.
    “The Star field sir, it’s, well…”
    Anderson suddenly felt a panic, “Yes Lieutenant…”
    “Well, that’s our Sun sir. We didn’t jump forward in Space. Just time. About a 7 billion years. Sir?”

    @D_PaulAngel
    D. Paul Angel recently posted..#FridayFlash Smooth TakeoverMy Profile

  24. Sarah Olson says:

    “Time for a drink,” she purred in my ear. I wound my arm around her waist, pulling her back down onto my lap, but she shrugged me off and glided toward the refrigerator. When she opened the door, I sat up to get a better look at the light reflecting off her graceful curves – her dimpled chin, the grand arc of her breast, the slight swell of her toned stomach.

    She turned to me and one eye glowed green, caught in the light it became a laser beaming into my heart. It burned.

    “I have just the thing,” she said as she grabbed a murky green bottle with no label. Once the door shut we were plunged back into darkness. I felt her hand cool against my cheek, and even cooler the frosted glass against my lips. I sipped slowly, feeling the burning spread from my heart to my throat, then it was swirling through my head.

    I gasped and coughed as the heat spread through my entire body, bathing me in fire. My heart raced as I struggled for a breath. I collapsed on the floor, convulsing, until I felt her hand stroking my back in slow circles and my body calmed but the heat remained.

    She kissed my cheek once and then she was gone, but before she left, she reminded me, “A phoenix bathes in fire only to be reborn again.”

    All my thoughts were consumed by fire. I begged for death, and it came for me. She promised rebirth, and she delivered on her promise. But I will never forget the fire.

    It burned. Oh how it burned.

    @saraheolson

  25. Time’s up, folks! See you at three with the finalists!

  26. MMMReader says:

    Seven am on the morning of her twenty-sixth birthday, Shelly stared at the ceiling fan over the bed in her mother’s guestroom. How did she get here? She was in debt up to her eyeballs and after years working toward her degrees she still had no job, no boyfriend and very little hope. As a tear streaked down her cheek she vowed this year would be different.
    “Shelly” her mother called from down stairs. Could her mother have gotten her a birthday surprise this year. She usually forgot.
    Her mother usually left for work, at seven so Shelly knew she had to hurry to see what the surprise was.
    Once they made eye contact Shelly knew her mom wasn’t thinking about Shelly’s birthday. “I backed into your car on my way out the driveway. Take if for an estimate and I’ll pay for the damages.” Her mom said and then ran out the door.
    Yep, this year was going to be a great one.

    @MMMReader
    MMMReader recently posted..On ReadingMy Profile

  27. Sheilagh Lee says:

    Tick ,tock goes the clock
    Where time goes
    No one really knows
    But time advances
    And wrinkles grow
    As nature plays it cruellest joke
    As we shake our heads
    And try to find out why
    And how to stop the clock
    But still it marches on
    Until we are dust

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