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About Literature / Student Core Member Damon L. WakesMale/United Kingdom Recent Activity
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I most enjoy interactive fiction that... 

13 deviants said ...lets me explore every possible option/ending, even without replaying the whole thing.
7 deviants said ...allows replays, but makes it difficult/impractical to undo individual choices.
1 deviant said ...prevents replays, and makes my choices impossible to undo.


Damon L. Wakes
Artist | Student | Literature
United Kingdom
Damon L. Wakes writes just about anything that springs to mind, producing both novels and short stories. As well as promoting his own books, he makes an effort to share the work of those who are under-read, under-appreciated, or just plain awesome.

Author of OCR is Not the Only Font, Red Herring, Bionic Punchline and Face of Glass.

He can also be found at:
Here it is! The official list of participants for Flash Fiction Day 2016. From midnight to midnight on June 22nd (in their respective time zones) these fine writers will be attempting to produce as many flash fiction pieces as possible (from 1 to 1,000 words in length) in just 24 hours. If you haven't signed up already, that link above will take you to the journal where you can do that: I'll be accepting new participants right up until the end of the event, so it's still not too late to jump in!

Here are the rules once again:
  1. The event begins at the very start of June 22nd, your local time. You can start writing any time after that.
  2. Write your first piece of flash fiction. Maximum 1,000 words, minimum 1 word. (I have read every conceivable 0 word story and am now bored of the genre.)
  3. Submit a deviation titled "Flash Fiction Day Submissions" (or something more imaginative) containing that story.
  4. Post a link to your deviation on this journal. I'll add a thumbnail next to your name as quickly as possible, but until then people can at least find it in the comments.
  5. Write more stories! Add those new stories to your FFD deviation (possibly with a note to say what time you started/finished them). You might consider ticking the "Notify your watchers" box to let people know you've added a new story, but if you find you're adding new ones very frequently, you might consider not notifying everybody every time. ;-) (Wink)
  6. That's it! All your stories for the day are available right here so readers can easily find them.
  7. When June 22nd ends, so does the event. Of course, you're free to stop writing earlier if you like.
And here are the participants:

FFD: Second LifeThe old man stared at her for quite a while as she sat propped up by my shabby old box spring near the dumpster.
My beach cruiser had been quite the ride in her day, with her mat black finish, white flames, and cardinal pin striping. The old girl hadn't been quite the same since the move to Austin though. Between the weather and the humidity, she was quickly relegated to our patio. In sun and sleet, she stood sentinel in what passed for our yard, collecting dirt and grime year after year. After seven long years of scorching weather, she was consigned to rust, and once it came time to leave Austin for Colorado, there wasn't enough of her former glory left to keep her.
Still, it pained me to leave a once treasured friend among garbage. Though, if I’m being honest, the honeycomb of wasps I found under her seat when I went to move her helped to wash away any lingering guilt I had over saying goodbye.
Walking back to the house, I wondered what other treasures I planned to unceremoniou

Flash Fiction Day 20161~3:00 pm
    "Quick! What's a six-lettered word of 'horned beasts?'"
    "Really, Gerome? We're kind of in the middle of something here..." Wyatt let out an exasperated sigh.
    Oliver spoke up from around the corner, "It could be a moose."
    Gerome shook his head, "Moose have antlers, there's a difference."
    "Now's not the time," Wyatt pinched the bridge of his nose, "Ollie, if you've got nothing better to do, at least help me with the TV."
    The orange-haired teen helped him hoist the television off the mantle, "...What about an elephant?"
    "Six letters, I said six letters!" Gerome tapped the newspaper with the end of a pencil he'd found laying around. ", no...Agh! I know this! What's it called!?"
    "Would you stop worrying about that stupid puzzle and help us?" Wyatt gritted his teeth as he and Oliver struggled to get the large TV out of the room. "Be useful and gr

Flash Fiction Day 201600:00
“Gnome-slave!” The White Witch clapped her hands.
     The witch rolled her eyes. “Gnome-slave, I am the malevolent ruler of an enchanted land, and you are the trusted servant who sits at my right hand. When I summon you, it is a thing of great import. Do not simply say 'yeah' in response.”
     “Sorry,” said the gnome, hurriedly. “I mean: 'Yeah, yer maj?'”
    The witch rolled her eyes again. It wasn't perfect, but it would have to do: on this day her minion's sloppy throneroom etiquette was the least of her concerns. “Gnome-slave, I have received word that certain Sons of Adam and Daughters of Eve have chanced upon my realm, transported through the ensorcelled wardrobe of the tales of old.”
     “Yeah?” said the gnome, again. Then he spotted the witch's expression.

Divine Ink

Flash Fiction Day SubmissionsWhile you were sleeping
Word count: 887

I throw on my backpack and leave the commons room through the northwest door. I watch everyone else from my team leave through the other doors. I hold the green slip of paper in my hands. It’s supposed to tell me what my individual challenge is as well as where to meet back up with my group for the group challenge. Only issue, it doesn’t tell me what to do for my individual challenge. All it says is: ‘leave northwest, head down the stairs, leave through the glass doors’. What kind of challenge is that?
I shove the green paper in my backpack and sling the bag onto my bag. I quickly run down the stairs. I can see the glass doors about 20 feet in front of me. It’s a challenge, I remind myself. I have to be fast. I start running toward the glass doors.
A create pops up in front of me a scares the living hell out of me. I scream. The thing resembles a human, but it clearly is not. It is missing teet

Flash Fiction Day 2016 - Diary of a RivuletFire. Fire everywhere, brutal and punishing. Destroying everything around her that she knows in its touch.
Run! The only thing she thinks of as the flames are in hot pursuit. She runs, and runs, and runs, with all her might away from the tortured screams and clashes of metal, melted remains of what used to be her home, away from the wall of flame in hot pursuit. The flame then takes on a shape – a form that appears more human, but is just as deadly.
It’s a woman – a figure young and beautiful, but fierce as the fire itself. The one responsible for all this fire, all the destruction, the leader of the tribe that she used to belong. Not anymore. No, not after what they’ve done…after what she’s done. And now the woman will burn her too, with the white hot blade she brings out against her. Its razor edge is lifted up, thrown down upon her, and she braces for it –
It never comes. Why? The same reason it never does every night - her brother. Shieldin

Flash Fiction Day (2016)1.
Once there was a man without eyes.
Those who saw him pitied him: for he could see no light and so, they thought, no beauty.
He always wondered why they could see no beauty in darkness.
10:02, STR
Once there was a man without eyes.
Those who saw him pitied him: for he could see no light and so, they thought, no beauty.
For himself, he felt no sadness: for he had never known what beauty was, and thus he could not miss it.
10:06, STR
Once there was a man without eyes.
Those who saw him pitied him: for he could see no light and thus, they thought, no beauty. But the man never saw their pity.
10:08, STR
Once there was a man without eyes.
Those who saw him pitied him: for he could see no light and thus, they thought, no beauty.
He never understood how they could be so blind.
10:10, STR
Once there was a man without eyes.
Those who saw him raged with envy: for he could see neither malice nor hatred, neither doubt nor

Flash Fiction Day 2016**Edit: Just to let everyone know, I started at midnight Central Standard Time.**
Shifting from one foot to another, Lucy stared down the long, narrow hallway. At the end, there was a door, begging to be opened. She turned to Sebastian and asked, "What does the map say?"
Sebastian snapped up from checking the ground for edible plants. He unfurled the map with a flourish, and checked. "It says that there's a swarm of very strong monsters behind that door. I'd advise that we avoid that area and just head back to town. Our bags are all full, and we're almost out of healing salves. And I'm pretty sure Debby can't heal in her condition." He looked over at Debby unconscious in Quincy's arms.
Debby woke up and gave a weak thumbs up. She moaned "I'm PERFECTLY fiiiiiineee..." and then collasped back into Quincy's arms.
Lucy toyed with her wand a bit. "So I guess that means I should use my return bell and then--"
She was cut off as Tina, the party's hotheaded swordswo

Flash Fiction Day Submissions - 2016#1 - 11:00 - 1 word
A Comprehensive Study into the Thought Process of the Majority of 20 Somethings who have Recently Graduated College/University and have been Released into the Real World

#2 - 17:50 - 47 words

For hope, they said. For honour, they said. For the King, they said.
You’re as fast as lightning, they told me. You’re as strong as a hurricane, they told me. Kill them, they told me.
Champion, they called me. Hero, they called me. Martyr, they called me. 
#3 - 21:10 - 381 words

It had been years since he had seen her; nearly a decade but he hadn’t forgotten the promise he had made. They’d fought tooth and nail to bring her back; to drag her away from world she’d been lost to but the woman in front of him wasn’t the girl he remembered.
Her green eyes had turned as black as shadows and her mousey hair had shifted to an unnatural red but it was the criss cross of scars over her face that

Tea for Three (Flash Fiction Day 2016)I.
The two cups of tea on the table are growing cold. The girl stirs and stirs though the sugar has dissolved. Beating her spoon against the porcelain, she says:
“I'm sorry.”
“Don't bother,” says the boy.
“No, listen. I am so sorry. I shouldn't have done it.”
“Done what?”
“Hurt . . . you.”
“Do you even understand what you’re saying? Do you understand what you’ve done?”
“No, I know. I shouldn’t have done it. I understand. I do. And I . . . I am a changed woman.”
A changed woman? Listen to yourself.”
“Baby, I am. I promise you I’ll change. This won’t happen ever again. This phase of my life is done—”
“Tell that to them. God, what should I do with you? What am I doing here? Where did I go wrong?”
“Oh baby. It’s not you, it’s me.”



Flash Fiction Day | The Graveyardentry one: houses remember | 483 words | 6-22-16 | Eastern Time, 12:07 - 12:30 AM
The kettle is well past whistling. It’s not screaming anymore; the water dried up. The air smells burnt and disgusting as the bottom of the kettle melts on the eye. No one is in the room to care. If someone were to walk the house, they would see the mixture of care and decay, painted in mildewed corners and polished hardwood. They would see the jump ropes and tambourines, the little pieces of life that gave joy to the living.
They would see the scratches, the stained patches, the iron and rust echoes of pain, jars of nails and fingernails and jawbones hanging like a mobile for the baby, above an empty crib.      
But no one is left to see any of it. The banister is broken and the ceiling hangs down in disgraced tatters; the garden is raped, plants torn up and roots eaten. Lining the walls are rounded portraits, sepia done in little photo shops, family members in period costumes

Flash Fiction Day Submissions: The French DisasterHe had navigated the doors of other worlds to find a version of Paris that wasn't grungy or grimy, or suffering from an infestation of idiots. His boss had helped by providing unsavory details of her childhood in the city, so that he could filter it.
"You don't have to do this," Rani protested.
"I know," he said cheerfully. "But I want to."
He had saved up a few thousand from his baking job; it helped that in a year or so his trust fund could be used, once he turned eighteen. And as he had told Rani, he owed her about five years' worth in birthday gifts. If they needed more, he could transmute metal into gold bars.
This version of Paris had constant sunshine. The buildings shone and sparkled, and people walked with cheer. Rani had dressed in a blue knee-length coat and a bright yellow sundress with leggings. Schulz wore a clean red shirt and jeans.
"We can go anywhere you want,” Schulz said.
"I want to visit some designer stores," she sai

Flash Fiction Day SubmissionWONDERFUL WONDERLAND
Alice walked down the street, battle axe in hand, dress torn, and a look of pure determination. She took quick steps up the long flight of stairs. Many were broken, or decaying. She kept her head held high. She stepped through gore and viscera, each step meaningful and with purpose. Alice was almost there. Just a few more long steps until she made it to the palace. The palace of Ozz.
The Wizard was waiting for her, a giant projector was displayed with his face upon it. He asked her why, why she was doing this. Why she was resorting to violence without a cause. She didn't answer.
Ripping back the curtains, she came face to face with the man himself. He screamed, yelling for mercy. She didn't even flinch when she sliced him in half.
[12:08 AM]
A massacre was upon them. The city flooded with those crying, screaming for help. The monsters didn't stop with their shredding. Head after head, life after life, people were being lost by the second. Ale


Lynn Love
   (National Flash Fiction Day)

Eyes As FlameShe sneaks into the chapel just after the sun has cast its last ray through the one stained glass window. It’s dark and musty, a thin layer of dust coating the pews, and her raincoat spills droplets behind her as she tracks oilslick in on her boots.
“You came,” a soft voice chimes wonderingly, and she stops in her tracks, looks up. It’s dark in here, it’s too dark for there to be a luminescing being just floating up there in the vault of the ceiling.
She does not scream, but clenches her fingers into fists. “What are you doing here?” she asks, muting her hoarse voice both for the sake of her dry throat and the custodian who sleeps neither lightly nor heavily.

“Waiting for you, of course,” says this golden glow in a white dress, and suddenly everything is bright and this being is standing right in front of her. “I wasn’t sure if you’d come, but it was worth a try.”
“What do

Megan   (Flash Fiction Day)

Flash Fiction Day 201612:56
Boris Johnson bounded up to the podium, grin splitting his face.  He’d won.  He’d actually won.  Just went to show, a nice clean suit and a jolly good campaign and you could win the people over.  Applause washed over him as he stepped up to the microphone, waving both hands over his head.
            ‘Good evening, Great Britain!’  His voice was amplified a thousand times, cutting through the applause.  He beamed down at the hundreds of faces, and then beamed up at the cluster of cameras, through which thousands more people watched him on their televisions.  He gave them all a huge thumbs-up.  ‘We are an independent nation again!’
            The applause, which had just about been dying down, started up again.  People screamed, stamping their feet, and a low chan

KaleidoscopeFoul Shot - 00:43
    I took a breath as I slowly dribbled the basketball a couple times.  My feet rooted in place at the top of the paint, all of the others lined up on the sides, I tuned out the boisterous noise of the crowd, becoming one with the ball.  We were down by one.  I didn’t want to blow this.
    Letting out the deep breath I had been holding onto, I gave the ball one last bounce before taking it up in my hands.  In one smooth motion, I bent my knees as I raised my arms above my head, then sprung up, transferring my energy to the ball as I let it arc through the air toward the basket.  The simple swoosh as the ball cleanly passed through the net of the hoop echoed through my ears.  I barely registered the couple of my teammates that reached over and slapped my hands in congratulatory fashion for sinking the foul shot.  I took my place again on the edge of the paint as the referee passed the ball to me a se

Opalflame    (2016 Flash Fiction Day [FFD])

Flash Fiction Day 2016Isa
In a one-room cabin bound by snow, a woman sat before a great rolltop desk, a pen in her hand and a cough frozen in her lungs. The remains of a fire smoldered in the grate, untended and struggling against the cold that crept down the chimney and through the cracks, but the woman paid it no mind, intent on the letters she scratched one by one into the loose-bound book before her.
She reached the end of a sentence, paused, and loosened the ice in her chest. The cough itched and clawed up her throat, rising into a string of explosions that shook her frail body. She fumbled in a pocket of her dress for a crumpled handkerchief and pressed it to her mouth. When the hacking settled back to a mere itch, she pulled it away, and the cloth was dotted red.
A faint trill drew her attention down to the silver-furred cat winding around her ankles. It trilled again, pale blue eyes admonishing.
“I know I shouldn’t,” the woman said, “but I--”
The itch grew claws


Flash Fiction Day 201612:01
Their brother sat cross legged before the fire place, logs cackling in the hushed room. The flames cast an eerie glow against the back wall. A fire poker in his hand, Bobby leaned forward ever so slightly. He prodded one of the logs.
It tumbled downward, and sparks scorched the stone hearth.  Elroy sucked in his breath. Waiting. Their father leaned forward, his hand balled into a fist, and struck Bobby on the back of the head.
“Dammit, Bobby.” He swore.
Why would you go and do a thing like that? Their mother’s eyes seemed to plead with her eldest son. Bobby didn’t move.
“Sorry, Papa.” His voice sounded small, childlike, and Elroy let out an involuntary shudder.
What was wrong with his eyes? They were narrowed into slits and, from a distance, looked as if they were entirely black. Elroy watched the shadows of the fire dance across his brother’s face.
“Sorry.” He said again, even more softly this time, so that Elroy thought


Desert Drabble, A Flash Fic Day 2016 SubmissionDesert Drabble
When the sun drops in the desert, so does the mercury. Your skin prickles with the plunge as the evening breeze sweeps up your sweat, carrying it eastward into tomorrow. Ninety-nine degrees at eight at night seems so pleasing after the hundred and sixteen of three pm.
One foot on third, you eye the base coach and she passes you the signal. Your husband's at home, lining up the bunt that will turn this tie into a win. Your throat aches, anhydrous and leather-tongued, but this pitch'll make it all worthwhile.
The roll; the hit; the sprint; the score:

Sonya   (Flash Fiction Day 2016: One Day, 12 Stories)

Flash Fiction Day 201607:40 – Prompt: ‘Break Away’ - 714 words
   Raff stopped struggling. His captor’s grip was too strong; cunning and timing was what mattered now, and Raff was good at those. He had to be to survive as he did.
   The burly town guard glanced down at him and smiled.
   “That’s better lad. You stay nice and still and we might even get to stay here and catch a glimpse of the new king when he rides through. I’d rather not miss that because I’ve got to drag some gutter scum to the lockup, and I think you’d rather not have to entertain me if that had to happen.”
   Raff grimaced and looked away. The whole reason he’d been caught was through trying to see the king – though watching the show with this bruiser for company had not been in his plans at any point.
   The guardsman walked over to the window, the bruises developing on Raff’s arm leaving him no option b

Flash fic day 2016
done :
well thats it , it's midnight , I wanted to get more done but only got 5 :<

Flash Fiction Day 2016 Submissions10:18
    You can only walk in the southern woods for so long before you lose your mind, at least that's what everyone says. Personally I believe that to be a whole lot of nonsense. I haven't been in these particular woods very often, but I'd say I've been here enough to feel comfortable being in them.
    The first time I came here was the result of a dare, and like everyone else, I honestly thought I'd become instantly lost and shortly thereafter lose my mind, but of course that didn't happen. I actually discovered what a tranquil place the southern woods are, and while I didn't appreciate it so much at the time, the tranquility stuck with me, and I would return here maybe once every three years or so when I needed somewhere to go away from everything.
    Now, in my old age, I am immeasurably grateful for this place. Progress has turned the village I live in into a bustling city, and there's constantly noise and even foul smells, and I can't find any re

Flash Fiction Day 201618:15
"I am not your darling."
And in that moment, finally, it was true. You didn't have me wrapped around your fingers anymore, desperate for and fearful of your attention. I wasn't going to do anything you said ever again, not get your paper, not make you dinner, not watch as you took what was precious from everyone you met. You were never going to hurt me again.
I pulled the trigger.
You were never going to hurt anyone else again, either.
They say there's a cave up on the mountaintop that you cannot find unless you know where it is. What they don't say is that if you listen closely, it will tell you itself. The journey isn't easy, but if you pay attention, you will not fail.
But tread carefully. This is not a quest for the uncommitted, as those who undertake it are agreeing to irrevocably alter their lives upon completion. But who would expect less when they seek a partnership with dragons?

Flash Fiction Day 201620:42 - 21:08 - 100 words

She held the rock in her hand and practiced her right hook, pouring all her concentration into pummeling the opponent she pictured facing her beneath the rusting swing-set.
Her mouth still hurt from the last bloody lip she’d received, and the bruise across her ribs hadn’t yet faded, but every twinge of pain just made her more determined.
She was supposed to be the one beating other kids up. She was the one they were all supposed to fear, and she’d be damned if she let a bunch of little girls steal her reputation from her without a fight.
21:23 - 21:45 - 273 words
Midnight Children

Jack pressed his back against the sloping concrete of the overpass and stared out over the city. It was bright up here, the air saturated with electricity, the roads coming together to form a lattice of light over the black ground. Despite the darkness the night was still sticky with heat, and the concrete felt cool where

Flash Fiction Day SubmissionsSubmission #1
From the Journals of a Wizard's Apprentice: Golems
I stepped back and looked at my work.  Making a golem is not hard work; it is merely a matter of making sure the soul array is properly engraved into the material.  In this case, the material in question being a mixture of river rocks, mud, and clay.  Once I was satisfied with what I had, I muttered the activation incantation and immediately, the material began to move and shift.  The mud and clay pulsed with the life granted to it by the soul array and the rocks sank and rose from inside of it.  What was once a mound of stone and soil eventually shaped into a more humanoid form.  All the while, the array remained intact, proving the strength of the spell.
--Journals of Athanasios the Old
I’ve discovered that every time I try to weasel out of the life of a wizard’s apprentice, good fortune s

TheRedSephaos (Flash Fiction Day 2016)

Janitor vs Egyptian God"Jim, you're needed at the African exhibit."
One look over his coffee at Claire's drenched form told him he wanted nothing to do with the African exhibit. "Looks like you've got this covered."
"Come on, Jim. You've got the best track record with this sort of thing."
"I'm on break."
She took Jim's coffee mug and pointed to the door. "People are going to get eaten."
Jim stumped over to the coffee machine for another mug. "No way. I still have nerve damage from the thunderbirds. Get Mary on it. She's got some crazy fighting skills."
Claire let out a frustrated groan and plopped down into a chair at Jim's table. She sipped at the stolen coffee. "What's it going to take to get you out there?"
Jim smiled and stated his terms.
It was raining in the African exhibit, which wouldn't have been strange, except that it was only raining in the African exhibit. And it was raining hard enough to flood the area if it kept on much longer.
Security had done a good job of clearing out the guests, so h

Flash Fiction Day 2016 Submission       It was a cold Sunday afternoon when Arthur went to court for jumping down instead of up. His case? He’s new to town, and the laws were different in Oklahoma. What, he’ll say, do you expect me to read through all this town’s laws? That’s not normal. That’s his case, anyway.
       But upon arrival, his lawyer wasn’t there. Only the prosecutor, the judge, and the jury.
       “Oh, no,” he thought, “don’t make me play my own lawyer like in all those cliché movies where the defender-lawyer defending-whatever-he’s-called doesn’t show up.” That is probably what he thought.
       But of course, that cliché would be played out, in a very cliché manner. Wait, “cliché” can be a noun or an adjective? Oh my god that’s so cool.
       Here would probably be a good place to stop

Spites and Snippetsi.
Sometimes, the best thing to say is nothing.
This is something Giovanni reminds him. "Be a good little pet, Silence." and "It's best not to be heard." Silence, however his namesake, is not very good at remembering this. Sure, he could remain quiet, without breaking the sanctity of the dead in the most sacred of places. Instead, pages are leafed through, and the gate keys on his belt make a steady clink, clink, clink as he makes his way across the ground.
Wisteria waves in his direction, despite the wind, and Silence bows his head to the beings hiding beneath it. Roundleaf Ragwort, grown up and crowding tombstones, part ways for him as if, somehow, it were an ocean. Silence has no illusions, and instead averts his gaze.
"Aviana," He welcomes, with a slight turn of head. "Welcome."
It starts with a kiss.
Justice was assured. The fledgling angels in his age group were different, with experinces Justice couldn't ever hope to experience, let alo


Flash Fiction Day 2016#1 Perspective 16:55 - 17:25 (239 words)
That one looks like a rabbit!
And that one looks like a statue of a bust!
Uh, I don't see it. It looks more like a shovel to me.
No not that one, the one to the left of the shovel.
Oh, ok. Yeah, I see it now. What a massive schnoz!
There goes the mouse cloud in to the snake cloud.
Isn't that the wrong end?
I can't tell anymore. Look at all that blue behind the clouds. So beautiful it's almost surreal.
Yes, that shade sure is pretty. It makes me think of peace.
That's ironic. We really shouldn't be thinking about such things, especially considering what we came here to do.
* sigh * Yes, I suppose you're right. You're always right.
No, the Ultimate One is always right. I'm going to press the button now.
* sigh * Ok.
The two beings took one last look at the clouds swirling around the planet of Earth. The sapphire blue oceans began to roil, and within seconds the sphere was gone.
Their ship zoomed off and it was a while before they spoke a
   vigour-mortis / inconsistentsea

Flash Fiction Day 2016 Stories12:15 AM
Red was all she seen for days. Red rain; red sky; the red that her skin became when she huffed up another steep hill that painfully forced itself out of the earth. The range of spiked dirt created a spine that rose and twisted in uniform with hers. Something wanted to get out from beneath her feet.  She felt it move like an unborn baby as she strode in the day's heat, squirming and kicking its feet against the soil.  At night it felt more like a heartbeat; vibrations ran up her legs to her head, making her brain tremble and rock against the sides of her skull.  She watched the moon quiver in its far away bed when the thing beneath her threw stones into the air and black dust flying across her face. She moved faster, trying to tell herself she'd be long gone, tucked into her bed, when it arrived.
12:45 AM
9:50 AM
She stuck tacks into each door to remind her what it lead to.  Blue was safe; yellow was caution; red was danger and most certain death. She had

Flash Fiction Day, 22nd June 2016. My entries.1st one. Time: 00:25
They never did the right thing. They died.
2nd one. Time: 09.27
"One knows it's their birthday", she said.
"From what?" I asked.
"From that someone wakes you up with a happy birthday message and just when you have ended the conversation with then someone else texts you the same", she gave a laugh. "True story, bro!"
3rd one. Time: 10.15
It was a dark night as usual. But she loved going out to the meadow to see the stars. She did so every night when there weren't clouds. And nothing ever happened to her there.
So I wrote to the interviewer. The answer, the next question, came soon:
What happened that night, then? Was she killed by an animal?
"Killed by an animal". I snorted in front of my computer. Had this dumb amateur reporter not read about this case or did he write to those who had missed the headlines?
I let my fingers dash on the keyboard: Killed by an animal? No, no, no, that is too cliché, too usual. No. That night there was a meteor sh

Flash Fiction Day SubmissionsSTART: 12:00 AM
Beauty Sleep
  The cat groggily opened one eye and glared at the world.  From somewhere nearby, various but meaningless yowls echoed throughout the house.  She growled and shoved her head into her belly fur.  Stupid humans, always making a stupid racket all stupid day!  Don't they understand that I'm trying to sleep here?!
  A finger prodded her belly.  Already hissing, she jerked her head up to stare bloody murder into the face of a human she recognized as the dumbest.  Then again, being the dumbest human was like being the smallest housefly.  It spewed a long string of earsplitting sounds that inexplicably formed the specie's primitive language.  She had no clue how such painful syllables could tolerated by anyone, let alone how or why the humans used them so often.  This one went on and on in its garbage tongue, then reached out with a disgusting excuse for a paw and tried to stroke he

Flash Fiction 2016 Table of Contents:Edit: With the Six word and two sentence stories I did them in bulk so no individual times!
Six-word stories:  (8:16 - 8:21)

Batch#2 (10:16-10:18)
Two Sentence Horrors:(8:22-8:33)

FlashFictionDay June 22nd 2016 (All enteries)1. Portia
Time: 11:40-14:20 CEST Word count: 734
A dim light hovered at the outskirts of the forest, a torch held in the hand of a tall, slender man who with his bony build could conceal himself among the newly sprouted, thin trees. A dark long coat, tied at the waist with a thick belt seemed to further elongate his form and a wide-brimmed hat concealed his slate gray eyes that with their sharp gaze surveyed the region.
The monster crept through the forest with a light, inaudible step and it seemed to the paranoid hunter that it's small humanoid form was at every moment at the edge of the sphere of light the fire cast around him. He knew his mind was playing tricks on him, however he pursued every shadow he was sure he'd sensed sneaking through the darkness and as he approached an old, hollow tree the torch revealed a contorted body inside of it's stem.
Four slim arms hugged the creatures torso that was covered in delicate, dark hairs and of the eight round eyes set symme

If you participated (or simply watched in amusement) last year, you may notice that there are a fair few more participants this time around: over three times as many! It's great to see this kind of growth for such a new event, and I hope we'll get even more writers jumping in before the day is done. Remember: unless June 22nd is actually over, there's still time to get involved! Simply sign up here, then start linking to your stories in this very journal once you've written some.

I also feel as though this would be a good place to mention that FlashFlood is open for submissions right up until the end of the 22nd, so if you already have a flashfic of 500 words or less that you'd like to contribute, or find time to polish up one of your entries for Flash Fiction Day, I'm sure they'd be happy to have it. The timing is quite convenient, at the very least!

And if you're looking for somewhere to get in touch with people participating in the event, your best bet is the Flash Fiction Day 2016 chatroom right here on dA.

A Notice of the Utmost Importance!!!

If you're about to thank me for a llama badge, there's really no need!

I give out llamas as a less cluttery alternative to saying "Thanks for the +fav." Please don't thank me for thanking you! It could start some kind of gratitude feedback loop that's liable to destroy the universe itself!



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ShadowedAcolyte Featured By Owner 5 days ago
So I love your FFMs every year and I just found out that I wasn't watching you (when I couldn't yourname). No idea why not! For shame!

DamonWakes Featured By Owner 4 days ago  Student Writer
It's easy to do that with FFM: the daily journals mean you don't necessarily have to be watching someone to follow their work. Still, thanks for the watch! I'm looking forward to this year's event: only a week to go!
BATTLEFAIRIES Featured By Owner 5 days ago
Llama right back at you hombre
Razgriz-3 Featured By Owner May 26, 2016  Student Writer
Looks like you're an up-and-comer too. Wouldn't mind chatting with you about how you go about the marketing-and-writing process.
DamonWakes Featured By Owner May 26, 2016  Student Writer
Likewise! :-) I actually just responded to your forum post: it just took a while as the reply was a bit of a long one.
Razgriz-3 Featured By Owner May 27, 2016  Student Writer
No worries, you're not under any obligation (and apparently nor am I, considering my even-slower one). I appreciate the input. 

I guess the go-to questions are good to start off with: How long have you been writing?
DamonWakes Featured By Owner May 27, 2016  Student Writer
I mentioned the time it took largely because you got around to commenting here between the point I started watching you and the time I finished writing in the forum. :XD: I didn't realise you were online at the time.

In answer to your question:

́I̧͖̗̬̥ͅ ͔̪̤̖̤h̛͙͉á̫̲̻̗v͚̠̝͚̭̬̯͡e̘ ̜̗͖̹͢b͈e̘̬̖̙̥̝͙e̖̱̫͘n̦̭̦̩̰̼ ̧ẁ̘̘̫̹̹r͈͉̻͓̺͈i̺̤͞ͅt̡͇̝̫̻͉̱í̝̗̤̺̻̩n̗̤̯̻g͔ ̴̫̭s̥̪̼͚͠i̶̘͈̘n̶͕͙c̵̫̟͓e̱̲̩͢ ̨̙͉̙̗̯̦̜b̢̩̗̗̺e̺͞ͅf͏̱̗̳̮or͍e̟̲̺̺̬̼̱͜ ̥̠͓̤̝̘̪t̛̺͓͚h̤e͚͎͎̙͉͔̫ ͎̦d̡̤͕̫̪̜ạ̸͚̯̳ͅw̡̩̰̻̲̺͓̜n̲ ̝o͉ͅf͔̹̻̭̬̬ ͞ṱ̢i͟m͈e͍̜̰̲̖ͅͅ,̛͉̯͎̠̗̰ ̷̠͖̙̫̻͚a͚͍͙͉ͅͅǹ̳̣̘̟̲̳d͎͇̗̥ ̘͓͈̤̺͝ͅͅy̖̹̤̪̜̕e̵t̮̲̞ ҉̬͍̝̼̟I̱̻͇͔ ̘̫͞fe̠̫̞͓͈̼e̳͜l̶͉͖͓͉ ̳͖̦̪̤͈ṋ̬͢o͢ ͇͞l͚̰͖͉̕ó͔̭̲v̵͚̞̪͖͖ẹ̙̮̭̯̗ ҉̞͇̺͚̙̯͇f͈̯̩̭̤̦̗́o͚͔̠̝͙͜ͅr ͈̖̳̠̦̯m̸̥̜̝̻y̯ͅ ̻c̢̤̠̩̬r̶̠a͚̦f͙͓̼̖͝t͉́.͓̠̱̪ͅ ̺͇͞I̛͖̟ ͙͙͈̹̭͢ͅa͖̣̤r̢̯͙̩r͚̹̝͎̲a̺̳͚̖ͅn͎͚̥̘͘g̻̞̭̘͡ͅẹ̻̜͚ ̲̗t̡̠̬h͍̯̮̥̝̹̺͝e҉ ͇w̮̺̯͔o̶͇̺̗̫͎̪ͅr̟̱̪d̙-҉͎͚̺̫̞͉͖s̰͙̞͙i̸ģ̜͚̥̦͙̜i͈̣͚l̹͈̼̭̥̞͘s̷̘̖̩̬͎͉ͅ ̨̟̠̻s͞o̻̘̮͖̮͎͟l̩̯̹̥̠̹̘e͏l͚͖̫y̺̖̗̹͝ ͚̘̲͉͕̜t̞̲͘o͍͓̠͖̭͠ ̝̝̱̳̲̠̲s͖̦̬̤͠p҉͇̣͙͍͔̳̪e҉̝l̤l̸ o͎̭̦̬̹͉ụ̲t̪͔̞̟̹̼̝ ̶t̺́h͍͈̹̠̬̙̺͜e̴̞̲̭̯̲͇ ͎c̶̹͙̻o̼̞̮̮m̝̳̫̖̲̝͙͘m͓̣̻̩͖̪͞a͍̜͍̹̲n͚̘̯̩ͅd͕͙̺̘̤̤s̛̬̩̤̻̮̗ ̗͖̦ṭ̹͎h̠̰͉̮͈̜a͙͜t͝ ̗̰̗̙̩ẁ̫̥̪̪̩i͏̙l͔ͅl̢ ̜̪̟ḍ̟͔̩͇̳̘r̫̖̦͕̦̦a̪͔̭̕w͏̰͖ͅ ͠t̲̦͍̪ǫ͓̘͍͉̼͙g̙̪͡e̡̲̬͎t̟͞h͓̳e͏͓̟̮r̝̲͘ ̠̖̬̯̩t͕h̯̣̻͎͇̟e͇̝̩̖̮͞ ̗̝͜e͈͔̼̼͙n̳̲̜͕̪l͖͖̞͇i̧͇͔̖͖̗gh͚̪̻͈̭͘t̴̥̙̣͓e̠ǹ͓̬eḏ͉͇͎͇̪͔ ̭͕̫̹̫̤̀le̸g̠̣̼̻͈͞i̘̻̘͓̕o͚͚͍̳̪͉ͅns̭̠͚̝̺̩ ̢th͇̟̩̝̬͖͈a̶̜̣̦̠t̸̟̲̪ͅ ̵̘͎̯̞̭̮s̺̬̯̫̥̀ͅh̞ͅa͏̦̩ll̸͚̘͉̲̟̫͓ ͏̺͕̞͙̝r̹͚ạ̷̜̫̫͙̲i̟̻̙̯͉̠̙s͙͍̬̦͍̱e̸̥̥ ̩m̼̮͘e̦͟ ̫͕̤̬̲̙̲t͎o͔͉͔͕̗̣͝ ̨͇̬t̝̞̥͉͖̗̹̀h͢e̹͕ ̮̦̥̖̣̬h̘̺͓̠̰̭e̡̙a̱v͏̞͎̘̱e͖͍͞n͈̗s͍, ͇̫̜t͔̪̭̭̹̻̕h͉̲̼͓̝̘̤͝a̬͇̬̣͕̱̜͠t͏̻̪̲̯̲͖̬ ̺̳͔I̹ ͉̤m͖̬͕̦̠a̲͕͠y̢ ͎̬͚̝̖̥b̛̬̖͎̥̪̬e͙̯̘͙̞͓̤c̛̲͎̙̜̤̪̪o̼m̷e̛̜͇̻̭̩͇̱ o͔̬̩͎n̖̫̖̝̰ͅę̼ ̯w͚̠í̺̙̭̖̲̬t̳̹͔͙͕͞ḥ͇͖ ̜̜t̲h̲ę ̱̪ͅd̕e̯͉̹͡v̖̠̞̤̩̟͚͘ǫ͕̥̭̺͙̙u͠ŕing̯̳͝ ̻̞̠͉̯̱̳v̗̥̘̯͖̝o͔̻̥̟̗ͅi̦d͈̟̠ ̤͖̮̺a̖͔͉̮̬͍̰ṇ̣̬̠͍̤d͏ ͇̥̠̹̱̩ͅb͏é͈̬͓̯̲ç͓̼o̱͎̹͙̣͔͍m̭̙̠̠͇̬e͓̦̗̮̩͘ ̨̣̟a̼͓͙̝̜̩̜ ̦̬͇̦̥̩̼̀ẖa̖̩ṛ̷b̠͇̯̲̗̜̹̀ị͙͎̭̟͡n̞̪̣͙̺̞͢g͍̠̗͔̗̟ȩ̻̞̞͙̼͍r̛̬͍̱͓͍͙̣ o͉̜͍f͖ ͜c̸̟͔̭͕h̟̮͈̜̙̜a͡ơ̜̹̝͖̼̹͔s̖̳̘ à͙̱͙̩m̧̭̞̙̜o̠͉̮̗n̨̗̘͔͓ǵͅ ̢͙̮̠̤t͔̕h̨e̙͚̜̦ ̭̟̩f͈̙̮͍͈̱ͅa̸̤̦͇͉̲ͅc̗̠͇̘̫ͅe͇͉̜l̦̝̭͍̖e̬͡s̴̼s̡ ̡̪̰s̗̱̦̳p̱̳̻̝̩h̬̟͈̦e͍̺͉͉̳͔r͕͙̯͕͠ͅe̩͇̗͕͈̖s.̖͔͈͞

...or at least, I've been writing for long enough that I've run out of ways to answer that question. In my experience, almost everyone who writes seriously started when they were pretty young, and it's mainly just the people who didn't start young who have a really interesting story about how they got into it. If you do have a neat story about that, I'd be interested to hear it, though I'm more curious about what drew you to WWI as a historical setting. It seems like a tough one to write: some people will be familiar enough with the period to spot mistakes easily, but it's far enough back now that it's not particularly easy to gather information in the first place. I imagine that's got to be doubly difficult when you're focusing on anything other than the trenches themselves, which seem to get the most attention in documentaries and such.
(1 Reply)
Animus325 Featured By Owner Feb 19, 2016  Hobbyist General Artist
Thanks for the llama! :)
ProfZamn Featured By Owner Jan 19, 2016  Student Interface Designer
Thx a lot for the fave brah TC :)
LuminescentRayne Featured By Owner Dec 5, 2015


Hey there! :giggle: You've been given a deviantART Compliment! :heart: :dummy:

Hope you have a wonderful day! :tighthug:
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