:The Vault:

[RapeMuffin]

This thread will be a collection of stories I wrote for the MWC9 Competitions, the stories I will write for future MWC Competitions and any stories in between.

I write for many reasons - the thrill of seeing a simple idea change and evolve as I mold it into a story, the challenge of interlacing plot twists, character development and literary themes, the relief of finally getting a pesky plotline down on paper.

But mostly, I write to entertain others.

So, with that being said - I hope you enjoy!

[RapeMuffin]

Flash Fiction Submission

As I said before, I write for many reasons.

When I first started out, my sole reason for writing was to see if I could do it. Prior to the December 2008 MWC, I had never written a Creative Writing Piece in my entire life, and was fairly certain I was just going to embarrass myself.

So I used an alt account: RapeMuffin.

Luckily, the contest was a simple theme: Flash Fiction

The rules for this contest, as laid out by GumOnShoe, are as follows:

Flash fiction is defined (for this competition) as fiction between 300 and 600 words. You are not aloud to go : : : below or above these limits. Flash Fiction is notorious for being wacky, weird, and and quick to the point. For : examples google is wonderful. Search terms include, "flash fiction" and "sudden fiction".

So, taking my first leap into the literary world, I submitted the following piece. Enjoy!

The mist rolls in early this morning, curling around the old oaks lining our front yard and giving the morning air a crisp chill. Looking out the sliding glass doors on the porch I can just see the morning sun rising above the trees, turning the lake below into shimmering glass. All of this beauty is muted however, as I cradle my dead wife in my arms.

The horizon continues to hold my gaze as I search desperately for some understanding, some comprehension of what has happened. The sound of gunfire and shouting seems to come from another world, not the world of early morning fog banks and vivid sunrises. The splinters of wood and brick that bite at my face and hands come from bullets that are from another day, another time, in a world that is not my own.

Surely these intruders, these men in blue who are attempting to shatter my calm, quiet dawn; they must be a deception. Clearly some movie is being filmed out on my front lawn, one that involves actors and blanks, action heroes and cinema magic. This woman in my arms cannot be my wife; surely it is some prop - a lukewarm dummy leaking red dye all over my kitchen.

The shattering of the glass door breaks the muffled cocoon I've retreated into, drawing me back to reality. We both knew it would end like this, both understood that lives like ours always end in tragedy. Memories come flooding back; snapshots of daring escapes, bank vaults, a brazen lifestyle that won America's heart - I push it all aside. Sharing one last kiss with the woman who was my life, my love, I scuttle across the kitchen and down into my basement. I hear breaking glass, then the clink and hiss of tear gas canisters rolling around our linoleum floor. My linoleum floor. I close the basement door.

Finding the trap door and unlocking the dead bolt is easy - I've done it a million times before, always preparing for this day. On those days, those simpler days, I wondered if leaving all the money behind would be difficult. Now I know it was never the money - it was always just thrown down here, left to rot in the gloomy dark. It was her. It was the thrill of being with her. My partner in crimes more numerous to count. My love.

I crawl through the dark, my gasps echoing off the dirt walls.
Three hundred meters to go
Can't see behind me.
Doesn't matter.
Keep moving forward.
Down to the lake.
Two hundred meters to go
Four minute run to the boathouse.
Two passports waiting in the lock box.
One for me.
Light ahead.
One hundred meters to go
Forth-five minutes to Canada.
Keep moving after that.
Always moving.
Fifty meters to go
Keep moving forward.
Always moving forward.

My reward for placing in this competition was a recording of my story by our fellow user, Fyndir:

• 
  RapeMuffin's Story. by Fyndir

  Click to listen.

  Score

  3.91 / 5.00

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