Flash Fictions: Survivors


Unbeknownst to Bran, Mankle had spoken the spell that had turned him into a halfling. The wizard entered the bar to see his lament.

Instead, he saw the barbarian with a good attitude and arm around an amorous halfling woman.

Unbeknownst to Mankle, Bran liked short women.

Wheels on the Bus

I see kids’ eyes full of fear and sorrow. The faculty surrounds us, guns drawn.

On a bus of twenty children with superhuman potential, only one has it awakened.

She summons fire to her fingers. “What’s the word, bus driver man?”

I hit the gas. “Hold on!”


“I am Lon, satyr archer and poet.”

Hekus greeted the young man warmly, then eyed the goat beside him. “Is he your pet?”

“He is my brother, Smo.”



Hekus’ expression betrayed an unfathomable discord.

“His mom is a goat,” Lon sighed.

One Good Reason

She dies covered in viral tumors. He leaves her bedside.

He unbars the door. Steps outside. Kneels in mud and snow. Weeps in insurmountable loss.

Starved dogs bay.

“Come and eat me.”

A child cries.

He rises, no longer a lone survivor.

Someone needs him.


They chased her into the redemption center. “You ain’t normal, freak!”

She was cornered between bags of empty cans.

“Got an ingenious plan now?” they taunted, ready to punch.

Cans leapt and combined into an aluminum knight.

“Yes, I do,” she said.



Copyright © 2020 by Jason H. Abbott, All Rights Reserved.

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