This is a short fiction I wrote for a Uni subject I completed a while back. Enjoy! Cheers Steve 🙂 Divides. By Stephen Thompson. My mother is dusting. The feather duster she uses swishes lightly over the mementoes and photo frames on the shelf, cautiously tracing a path through our family history like a shipContinue reading “Divides. A flash fiction.”
Tag Archives: flash fiction
I like to mess around in Adobe Photoshop and other photo apps. Here’s a collage of my various site headers I made for Instagram. Just because. Cheers Steve 🙂
Anvil. Part 20.
The Anvil stares down at Johnston, who unflinchingly returns the look. “You have a problem?” says Johnston. “Why am I not with Violet?” says the Anvil. “You’re too close to her. Might impede your judgement in combat.” Johnston raises his flechette carbine. “Now you better back off, friend. I like my personal space.” Olsin stepsContinue reading “Anvil. Part 20.”
Anvil. Part 19.
Shi-Cho smiles grimly as Flotsam station appears in the transteel cockpit window. At this distance it is little more than a tiny spinning tin can, a shining diamond against the charcoal disk of the planet below. Captain Hansen, seated in the pilot’s chair in front of Shi-Cho, gestures to a nearby monitor. “We’re being hailedContinue reading “Anvil. Part 19.”
Anvil. Part 18.
Alfred Bester is a tall man, well over six foot and waif thin. He has a full head of brown hair with a prominent widow’s peak, greying somewhat but less than one would expect for someone in such a powerful position. Bester is supremely confident—a man doesn’t get to his level without being so. WhenContinue reading “Anvil. Part 18.”
Anvil. Part 17.
Kanji sprawls in her hovering portachair, its suspensors struggling under her weight. Her spiked durasteel right arm dwarfs the other, whose musculature is networked with ridged veins. “So, boss”, she says. “How long until Chao gets here?” Johnston stands at the transteel viewport, arms folded, staring out into space. The dark planet below passes inContinue reading “Anvil. Part 17.”
Anvil. Part 16.
Like the new logo? I put a fair bit of work into it – Steve 🙂 Hansen’s airborne troop carrier hovers at the entrance to the ruined hangar. Shi-Cho taps his foot impatiently on some rubble as the side hatch slides open and he and his troops clamber inside. He makes his way to theContinue reading “Anvil. Part 16.”
Anvil. Part 15.
The distant sound of automatic gunfire and plasma rounds echo from within the skeletal remains of the Chao Triad building. In the interceptor, Olsin’s finger pauses over the tether recall button. She notes two murky shapes in the dirty haze behind Granny Chun. “I think you had better rethink your options,” says Lady Chao asContinue reading “Anvil. Part 15.”
Anvil. Part 14.
“Get to the interceptor,” says the Anvil, gritting her teeth. As Chun, Jimmy and Olsin exit stage left, she flexes her fingers and tenses. Autonomic sensors and variable defence pattern assessments are whirling around her brain. Her HUD is flashing multiple warnings, red, red, red. She’s outclassed by the hulking armature before her. Shi-Cho isContinue reading “Anvil. Part 14.”
The Not-So-Burning Bush. A short tale.
I haven’t written a flash fiction for a while. Here’s my poor attempt at romantic fiction. Cheers Steve 😊 I was ensconced in the bush, its leaves and branches irritating and scratching my face. Completely hidden, I craned my neck to hear what was said, while trying to maintain some sort of focus on Jenny.Continue reading “The Not-So-Burning Bush. A short tale.”
Anvil. Part 13.
Olsin leads the motley crew of escapees through gleaming corridors towards one of the many tower hangars. As they approach a corner she places a hand on the Anvil’s groin and whispers “Wait, sugar.” Her hand lingers for an uncomfortably long time, then waves them onwards. Olsin’s carbine is at her shoulder, eye to sight,Continue reading “Anvil. Part 13.”
Anvil. Part 12.
Granny Chun is led sedately to a cell opposite the Anvil’s. She catches a glimpse of the big male skull behind the tiny transteel window as she is pushed gently into her cell by two armoured guards. Prison guard Olsin smiles at the Anvil as she palms the door closed and waves the escort away.Continue reading “Anvil. Part 12.”
Anvil. Part 11.
The Anvil struggles groggily to her feet. The room is silent. “What did I miss?” she says. Lady Chao and Granny Chun are still kissing. “Somebody want to fill me in on this development?” says the Anvil. Violet runs over to her and grabs her leg protectively. Sarain’s EMPG is at the Anvil’s head again.Continue reading “Anvil. Part 11.”
Anvil. Part 10.
Lady Chao’s headquarters is just as ruinous as the other buildings surrounding it. Rusted metal supports play peek-a-boo through holey concrete walls. The lower levels are salt-sutured steel and raggedy plate glass. Only the top four levels are decently attired: various rooftop antennas, dishes and hangars; multiple gun emplacement bubbles poking through garish red panelling;Continue reading “Anvil. Part 10.”
Anvil. Part 9.
A sonic boom cracks the sky beneath the floating city. Tossing to and fro in the wild surf below, the little inflatable raft seems little more than a speck on the ocean’s roiling back. The aging interceptor slows and pulls up twenty metres above it, hovering unsteadily in the wind and rain. Big Jimmy eyesContinue reading “Anvil. Part 9.”
Anvil. Part 8.
The tall old woman is angry. She throws her cup of shoujiu across the room where it shatters against the wall. “They took my interceptor?” Her eyes are narrow slits, her crow’s feet now a delta fanning both sides of her face. The armoured men kneel before her, heads bowed to the floor. One watchesContinue reading “Anvil. Part 8.”
Anvil. Part 7.
It’s six hours out and Granny Chun vomits into the bucket for the seventh time. She groans and spits bile into the foul, bitter broth meandering at the bottom of the pail. Violet is out of her capsule, sleeping restfully, strapped into a seat next to the Anvil. The boat heaves and sways in theContinue reading “Anvil. Part 7.”
Anvil. Part 6.
They tramp down five flights in faulty glowglobe dimness, skirting sleeping derelicts and the occasional Verso dealer. They are given wide berth by the occupants; Granny Chun’s pumpgun speaks volumes without ever needing to bark. Eventually they reach a level just above the thrashing surf—dockside. Parts of the floor are gone (collapsed or removed, whoContinue reading “Anvil. Part 6.”
Anvil. Part 5.
The Anvil stares blankly at Granny Chun—not much different from most of her male body’s expressions. “I think you better fill me in. From the beginning.” Chun grins. “Of course. But we need to get out of here.” She points to the far side of the floor, about a hundred metres across the other sideContinue reading “Anvil. Part 5.”
Anvil. Part 4.
Shi-Cho has worked spec ops for many years. His body has been wounded, trashed and rebuilt so many times he almost forgets which parts are human and which are cybernetic. His left eye is biosynthetic, but his right is original. He prefers the artificial one. After this job he will have the human eye replaced—aContinue reading “Anvil. Part 4.”
Anvil. Part 3.
The little girl flinches, stepping back and hugging the teddy bear and Granny Chun’s leg. “Well what did you expect?” says the old woman. “You come here looking like some badass, muscle-head man and expect your daughter to recognise you?” The Anvil steps back, shakes her head. Chun is right. What prompted her to makeContinue reading “Anvil. Part 3.”
Sucker Punch. A short tale, revisited.
Here’s a flash fiction I wrote a while back. It wasn’t seen by many at the time, so I’ve decided to re-blog it in the hope that more may get the chance to read it. https://stevestillstanding.com/2017/06/24/sucker-punch-a-short-tale/ Hope you like it. Cheers Steve 🙂
Coriolis. A short tale.
He stared at the mirror, at the composite he had become. It held a reflection capturing his bitterest Hyde and Jekyll moments. He placed his hand firmly on the vanity, turned on the tap and watched the water spiral down the drain. “You f$&@ing, arrogant, conceited prick,” he said. In the mirror his other selfContinue reading “Coriolis. A short tale.”
Chuck. A character study.
I created Chuck for one of my short stories, written for uni. Following is a character study I wrote for him. If you’re not familiar with a character study, it’s used to develop a character’s background and personality traits. From these elements the character’s mannerisms and dialogue come to life. Some character studies are complex,Continue reading “Chuck. A character study.”
The Wait. A short tale.
She waited as he wasted away. She watched and pined. He watched as well; sometimes TV, sometimes her. She fed him hand-to-mouth. Eventually he refused to eat. As he grew thinner, the drip in his arm pulsed like a marathon runner, sucking exhausted breaths as it neared the finish line. He smiled painfully. She did,Continue reading “The Wait. A short tale.”
The Sale. Part 13.
As Aisha and I ran down the underground corridor, squinting in the dim light, we heard a voice crackling from an old wooden speaker box on the wall. It was Silas. “You can’t escape you know.” We darted to the passage’s end. A blank wall. Backtracked to an intersection. Ran right. “I had the tunnelsContinue reading “The Sale. Part 13.”
The Real News. A short tale.
Here’s a post I did for a recent uni course. The course is over so I can post it now. The idea was to take a news story and extrapolate what it was about. A man attacked a woman in a Victorian Shopping Centre. Although the news story was light on details, it wasContinue reading “The Real News. A short tale.”
The Sale. Part 12.
My hands were in the air and so was the rock-solid Maglite flashlight. Silas was watching the Mexican standoff in the store room where crazy woman Junifer had confronted Aisha. I threw the torch as hard as I could. It was a crappy throw. The flashlight hit Silas in the side, surprising him more thanContinue reading “The Sale. Part 12.”
The Sale. Part 11. A short series.
Aisha froze and dropped her phone. The screen cracked on the concrete floor as it bounced at her feet. Across the large, concrete-walled room was Silas, the aged and insensitively tall butler. He was no longer dressed in his servant togs, having changed to a white lab coat and matching trousers, and accessorising with a .38Continue reading “The Sale. Part 11. A short series.”
The Sale. Part 10. A short series.
Climbing down the ladder we came to the ground floor, with the passage leading to the pantry. “Should we stop here?” said Aisha, taking the iPhone out of her mouth and shining the torch light up the dingy corridor. “I really think we need to check out the basement.” I tapped my foot impatiently onContinue reading “The Sale. Part 10. A short series.”