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: Your main character is given a very nice, and completely harmless, gift by the antagonist.
(Note: The prompt is above. The picture is for decoration/inspiration.)
* Post your entry as a comment to this post.
I’ll close the contest at 12:45. 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, Tracey M. Hansen, @THansenWrites will nominate five finalists.
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. Or follow us on twitter with the #5MinuteFiction hashtag.
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.
She looked at the package with suspicion. There was nothing to indicate that she should worry, but she did.
“Why in the world would he have sent this today of all days?” she said aloud.
Walking around the table upon which it sat, she examined the wrapping paper. Nothing. She examined the bow. Nothing. She paused.
After a moment’s thought she picked up the package and shook it. Nothing. Not a sound. In fact, the entire package seemed to weigh almost nothing as if it were empty.
Interesting, she thought.
Sheila picked up the package, went to the window, opened the window, and through the package out. She watched as it sailed fourteen stories, the wind blowing it sharply to one side, and smashed on the sidewalk.
Part of her still itched to know what, if anything was in the package.
“Better safe than sorry,” she said to herself.
@redshirt6
It had to be a trick. I stared at the thing on the table, standing probably too close, in case it exploded. But surely it wouldn’t have made it into the emperor’s rooms if there was any chance of that.
Still, it was from Blaine. It had to explode or something. There was no way he’d give me a birthday present.
“It’s got to be for you,” I said to Pete.
He made a wry face. “Oh come on, I already got one from him, and it’s got your name on it.”
“So whatever servant he sent out to get the presents got confused and put my name on one, then.”
I sighed with relief. There was a logical explanation beyond Blaine being nice to me, which wasn’t logical at all.
“You should wear it, it looks nice,” Pete said. “Matches your eyes.”
I rolled my eyes at him. “You have got to be kidding.” I stepped closer to the scarf, picking it up between two fingers and holding it at arms length. “I wouldn’t be caught dead wearing something from him. I still don’t believe he’d give me any–”
And that’s when I saw it. Very small, like a logo embroidered on the bottom corner. And I knew exactly why he’d sent me this.
“Love, K.”
I screamed in fury as I threw it out the window.
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She poked and prodded at the small, perfectly wrapped present that appeared on her desk.
“You’re going to have to open it some time,” a voice from her PA floated in. “He’s going to ask if you got it and I’m not going to lie for you. Not this time, Sweets.”
“You’re a true friend!” she called sarcastically, earning a laugh from her fabulous assistant.
And she did mean fabulous. Rhinestone encrusted cats eye glasses fabulous.
“What is it for?” she called.
“Secret Santa shit or something,” came the reply. “Management gets all sorts of warm and fuzzy when the weather drops.”
“And a gift card to Barnes and Noble would be out of the question?” She looked at the package as if the ribbon might suddenly turn into a cobra and strike.
To be honest, she really hated presents of any sort. Gifts made her uncomfortable. Birthdays made her nauseous and don’t even think about what Christmas did to her.
That was a therapy session unto itself.
“Just open it for godssake,” he nipped, appearing lazily at the door.
With a hesitant hand, she took the package and carefully popped open the sides.
“You know, it will be Valentines before you’re done at that rate,” he muttered.
With her tongue stuck out oh-so-maturely, she ripped into the paper, tossing it into her trashcan next to her desk.
“So what is it?”
“Nothing.” She held up the empty box for him to see. “Fucker didn’t put anything in it. Just a card that reads, ‘What you deserve.'”
“Fucker.”
@dejeansmith
Your main character is given a very nice, and completely harmless, gift by the antagonist.
Peter looked at the box suspiciously.
It was from Stark, or, as she was better known, Stark Raving Mad.
The fact that they were engaged to be married did not make it any less suspicious.
It wasn’t so much that Stark was dangerous, or evil…
Well, she could be evil.
She simply loved to mess with people’s minds.
Psychiatrists weren’t supposed to do that.
Apparently Stark was either unaware or indifferent to the rule.
Deciding it was best to get things over with, Peter dove in, carefully laying aside tissue paper to see what was inside.
Pomegranites.
Peter smiled.
Evil indeed.
@US_Nessie on twitter
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Shelly looked at the package sitting on her front porch unsure what to do with it. She lifts her eyes to Colby’s, looking to him for help.
“It’s not from me.” Colby states.
“Well, no shit Sherlock. It says on the box that it is from Ellis.” She shook her head at him. “I just don’t know if I should open it.”
“Of course not! With how much that man hates you for everything you have done to him, who knows what it is.” Cobly moved himself between Shelly and the box as it started making noise. “It’s probably a bomb of some sort. I think we should leave. Now!” Pushing her down the walk toward the car.
Shelly tried to look around Colby. She wanted to see what the package would do. Was it the type of bomb that would ruin her house, or was it a bio-terrorist bomb? Would the neighborhood turn in to walking zombies? Shelly shook her head at the last thought. I’ve been watching Resident Evil too much.
After 5 minutes, nothing happened with the box. But the noise got louder. Shelly shoved Colby out of her way and walked up to the porch, determined to figure out what was in the box. She kneeled down and pulled the top off.
Much to her surprise there were two tiny kittens in the box. Laughing, she picked one up.
“Shelly, put that thing down! It could be dangerous!” Colby yelled as he ran up the walk.
“It’s a kitten. What is going to do? Purr me to death?” Shelly held the small ball of black fuzz to her chest, glaring at Colby. “I’m keeping them.”
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“Open it,” Zatiel said, leaning casually against a charred tree.
Leteh eyed him warily. He felt certain that the minute he looked away from him, Zatiel would take the opportunity to fry him. The younger demon with fiery, possessed eyes just shook his head.
“I called a pause in the action,” he said, “and I’m a demon of my word.”
Leteh couldn’t stop himself from snorting. “Yeah … and I’m not wanted dead by everyone and their brother. What are you playing at, Zatiel?”
“Open the fucking box and see, will you?”
With a shake of his head, Leteh pulled at the crude strings surrounding the box. Lifting the lid, Leteh saw a litter of debris in the box. It was most definitely harmless, at least superficially. The effect that the contents had on Leteh however, was both immediate and powerful.
Inside the plain brown box was a charred branch of a tree and three black raven’s feathers burned nearly to their quills.
“You see what this means, don’t you?” Zatiel asked, smiling smarmily at Leteh as he walked closer to the older demon. “You, better than anyone, can see the significance of these feathers. She’s gone, Leteh. And with her death, your reason for fighting dies as well.”
Zatiel, good to his word, dissolved into the underworld, leaving Leteh alone with the innocuous box. Perhaps Zatiel was telling the truth and Selena had been killed. But he was wrong, nonetheless. Leteh’s resolve was even stronger than before. He crushed the box in his hands, feathers fluttering to the ground in his wake as he strode back to camp.
@JenD_Author
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Title: The End is the Beginning
Alana stared at what Cabal had put into her hands. Surely this was a joke. The man who she had regarded with so much fear for so long had, for some reason, given her this.
“What is this?” she asked, her voice full of suspicion as she held the small box as far from her as possible.
“Open it,” Cabal replied, his deep voice reminiscent of gravel across a chalkboard.
She looked at him in disbelief. “Do you really blame me for being a little hesitant?”
Cabal scratched his black hair and shrugged. “Yes, we do have a bit of a dark past, but I’m trying to be a better man now. This is me making amends.”
“You can’t make amends for killing my parents,” she replied shortly.
Cabal hung his head, his shoulders slouching in defeat. “No, I really can’t, but I can try to make the next steps I make better.”
Alana gazed at him a few minutes, trying to decipher if there was any malice or ulterior motives to his gesture. Finding none, she held her breath and opened the top of the small box.
Inside was a chain with a small, worn pendant. It was simple and very tarnished, making Alana think it was very old.
“What is this?”
“It is the First.”
“The first?”
“It is the pendant worn by the First Creator. It was located about a month ago once things had started to return to normal.
Completely stunned, Alana gingerly touched the pendant, the silver spiral dark with age and frail. “Th-thank you.”
@MLGammella
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Earl was trying hard not to laugh. He was floating outside the people concourse, holding the gift box in his hands. He had to remember to flap his arms a little to get some proper air circulation.
What would possess Brian to give HIM a gift? Didn’t Brian already steal his mate? Didn’t Brian already sabotage every attempt at promotion to outside?
It wasn’t his birthday. It wasn’t SHIP’s birthday. No anniversaries of any kind he could think of.
“So, like, what is this all about, Brian? I thought you didn’t have anything to say to me anymore. Carla actually spit in my face. I sleep myself in the unattached orb these days.” Earl said, starting to get a little angrier with every word.
“It’s a gift. From us to you. Open it.” Brian started to spin a bit and wiggled to right himself so we were looking at each other in the eye.
“Look, its not that I’m not touched, or grateful, or don’t trust you… well, ok, I’m having a little trouble trusting you, that’s true.”
Brian grinned even larger, cuss him.
“But if you could give me a clue as to what this all about?”
“Shoot a plug, Earl, it’s a GIFT. open it.”
Carla nodded, too. Of course, she was upside down now and so the gesture was odd.
“Well, ok.” He started to unwrap the present. Of course, looking back, he should have paid more attention to Brian and Carla as they started to dogpeddle back towards the bulkhead.
“It’s a… a… what does this button..” Earl pushed the button. And then his view collapsed. Painfully, the hull came up to hit him in the side. It felt like he’d bruised a rib.
“what the…. what did you guys do to me?” Earl shouted.
At that point they were spinning around and around with laughter and it took a while for either of them to say something.
“Earl, Brian invented artificial gravity. You’re the first person to try it out. How does it feel?”
“It hurts like hell! you BASTARD!” He tried to wave his angry fist at Brian but it felt so very very heavy. He finally just stayed there, stuck to the hull like a squashed bug.
And there he stayed until Brian invented artificial anti-gravity. After his and Carla’s first child was born, and a year before they fell planetward and their seed ship landed.
Bastard.
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The day the box arrived in the mail, Cynthia had been reflecting on what a lovely day it had been – lunch with the ladies, a really great sweaty workout a the gym, sunny skies, a lovely new jacket bought on sale at the cute boutique down the road, and a full five years since she had any word from that patronizing bastard of an ex-husband. On the last day of their divorce trial, they’d parted ways without eye contact and with an agreement that money would be wired directly to her account each month, on time, without any additional contact.
When she pulled into the driveway, Cynthia noticed the box on the front stoop.
1-800-FLOWERS. How nice! Someone was thinking of her.
She got out of the car, gathered her mail, picked up the box and entered the house. There she opened the box and saw the note.
To Cynthia. I’m sorry. Love Always, Tad
Tad. Her ex. Flowers. Damn him.
Cynthia made her way to the liquor cabinet, mixed them all together and thus began her descent into one drunken month of anger and confusion.
@alanagarrigues
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“Why?” Edane squeezed the box to hide the tremble that worked its way down her arms to her fingers. Elves never gave gifts. Not without a price. Yet that was the stories. She’d eaten their food and wasn’t a prisoner for it. Not for that, anyway.
The Summer King waved a hand as if to dismiss her question. “You are an honored guest. You shall be presented to the court this evening adorned as one.”
She set the box down without opening it. She waved to the guards that followed her everywhere. Her “honor guard.” Once she had her forge, even they couldn’t keep her from “adorning” them all with iron.
“Fine,” she said. “I will wear whatever you choose me to wear.” She weighed her words before dropping them carefully into the fiery hearth the king always forced her to dance around. Hopefully, her quaint country ways were clever enough for the high court. “Someday, though, it would be a kindness for you to let me wear what is my due. I would walk as a true blacksmith among you.”
His eyes narrowed. “That is a greater honor than even I can provide.”
“Then I suppose you must do your best.”
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Jamal took a seat behind his desk, totally mortified. Nothing went quite the way he wanted it to. Sure, marrying Darci wasn’t what was supposed to happen. They should have never even seen each other while in Atlantic City. But, it happened. He thought it was the greatest stroke of luck to have her connected to him in some way. What with him loving her and all, he thought he’d take advantage of what she thought was a bad situation.
Seems she still didn’t get with the program. Now, she’s gone. And he couldn’t help but throw a pity party for himself.
“Mr. Mann?” his secretary paged him.
Sighing, he replied, “Yes, what is it?”
“You have a Miss. Jordan who’d like to see you.”
Jamal’s heart did the flutters. Miss. Jordan? Could it be Darci? Did she change her mind?
He straightened his tie. “Sure. Send her in.”
He stood, pacing slightly behind the desk, knowing he had about 15 seconds to find the perfect place to stand. He thought of leaning against the desk, sitting on the love seat, and finally just settled with standing in the middle of the room. When the door opened, he held his breath, anxious just for a glimpse f her…
“Hello, Jamal.”
His heart sank. Miss. Jordan. Of course, he forgot Darci has sisters. And it wasn’t even the sister he liked. “Hello, Regina. What a surprise.”
Definitely not a pleasant one.
Regina walked in purposefully, but with a hint of apprehension in her gaze. She nervously pushed a few loose strands of hair behind her ears. “So, how are you?”
Jamal shrugged, and gestured for her to have a seat in one of his arm chairs. “Could be better, though we both know you’re not hear for this.”
Regina nodded while grabbing a seat. He did the same.
“So, shouldn’t you get on with it?” he asked, slightly irritated because of who he wanted to see not being his mystery guest.
“Right. The point,” Regina focused her stare at him. “I’m going to do you a favor. I, more than anyone, hated the idea of you marrying my sister. As much as i hated it, I…I can’t help but admit that I’ve never seen my sister happier. Now, she’s completely depressed and won’t admit to missing you. When she kicked you to the curb, she hurt herself even more.”
Jamal was shocked from what he was hearing.
“Jamal, you gotta get her back. She misses you, even if she won’t admit it,” Regina sighed.
“She won’t speak to me. She’s done with me.”
“Go to her. Go back to her house and show her why you two belong together,” Regina shook her head and laughed to herself. “But, don’t you dare say I put you up to this.”
“She changed the locks.”
Jamal hung his head low after saying those words. His head snapped back up when he heard a jingling of keys.
“Well, look at this,” Regina smiled. “Guess I dropped these when I came by to tell you off, right? Bet if you take these keys to her house, you’ll get right in.”
Jamal slowly smiled, not wanting to question why Regina was being so helpful. Instead, he was thankful for this chance given to him.
“What is this?” She asked, always dubious of her so-called friend Ted. All he ever really wanted was to get in her pants.
“Open it, I just thought it was something you’d like.” He replied.
“I don’t trust you. The last thing you gave me was a vibrator.” She set the neatly wrapped box on her desk.
“Did you use it?” He asked.
“That’s not the point, it was not the kind of gift a friend gives another friend.” She replied.
“I had just thought you needed to release a bit of tension.” He smiled, “now open it.”
“No Ted, you thought that I would use it and think of you every time I did and would eventually…” She sighed.
“No, not at all, come on Nina, I was just looking out for you, you needed a little fornication in your life.” Ted looked at the box, then at her. “Are you going to open it?”
“I don’t want another fake penis.” She said.
“It’s not a fake penis, I’m sure that you’re quite content with the one you have, now just open the friggin’ box.” Ted picked it up and handed it to her again.
“I have access to a real penis now you know.” She said, “it’s… his name is Francis.”
“I know, and I’m happy for you, and him. Can you just open the present?” He was ready to open it for her.
“I don’t trust you Ted. I love you, but I don’t trust you.” She held the box dubiously.
“You love me?” He said in mock surprise.
“Yes, like a brother, an annoying little brother that tears the heads off my Barbies.”
“Ouch, that hurts.”
“What is it?” She asked again.
“Just open it for Christ’s sake, it’s nothing dirty, or inappropriate.” He promised.
“Since when aren’t you inappropriate?” She asked.
“Since today, now open it!”
She tentatively pulled the ribbon on the box. Secretly she actually wanted another dildo, hers was broken and she hadn’t had the courage to tell Ted that Francis and her were finished. She was coming around to Ted’s constant flirting and sexual innuendos.
“Take the lid off Nina.” He said.
She made a big show of being afraid. She pulled off the lid, inside was a…
@DRyanLeask
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That’s it, folks! See you at 2:00 with the finalists.
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Water flowed over the once worn but recently replaced wood floor that covered the dining room entrance. Bradby sat, drinking the only alcohol, a bottle of homemade that somehow slipped passed the party goers’ from, last night’s foray into bedlam.
Brady, a true prick, wound down your nerves with each conversation, and always left the inhabitants in the room drained of all energy and enthusiasm before departing, met my eyes as they tracked from the ruined floor to his.
“Bradby, what the hell happened here” I asked. The kitchen looks flooded and I’m more then mildly annoyed at your action, or should I say inaction at this mess.
Bradby, not one for hysterics, reached round his back to reveal a “Popeil Pocket Fisherman” which he handed to me with a wry smile saying – “Go fish… Bitch”