All in Flash Fiction

Jakara was out on the rocks amidst the tidepools, the high tide lapping hungrily at the stones. He had a pail half-full of fat crabs, clicking away angrily at him, when he heard the cries for help. Carefully, sure-footed, he clambered over the rocks and peered into the briny cave high above the kelp that bounded the upper limit of the waves.

We rolled down the hill together, hands clasped tight. The sky flashed past in bursts, now blue, now white, blue, blue, white until the ground ate it in hungry gulps and everything was green. We smelled like grass and crumpled flowers. Mouths stained with berry juice, knees with grass, we laughed through the summer and rolled down the hill.

People like to talk about love at first sight a lot. Meeting someone’s eyes across the cafeteria, that frisson of tension, that spark when two souls connect for just a moment. Or that barest of touches when returning a dropped book, skin against feverish skin. I’d had one or two such moments, in my time. But there are other moments of connection, ones that are often overlooked.

The rain washed out the streetlights and blurred the city streets as they passed by. Everything was muted, tinted blue and grey, made to shimmer as though the rain had filled the streets and now they drove through wide, empty ocean caverns, once-houses forming the rock walls.

The lights in the underground parking lot flickered on one by one, each band of yellowy light illuminating the darkness, pushing it back to reveal the dim shapes of cars and concrete pillars. They weren’t very bright, but Illya was more concerned by the way they lit a straight path deeper into the darkness. The concrete stretched on it seemed forever, until the lights became mere pinpricks and then were swallowed up by the dark.

In the towering city on the shore, where the obsidian streets swallowed the light and the steel sea dashed ships upon the rocks, the great lighthouse was known to all. Its light cut through fog and shadow with ease, a warning to all who dared the coast. Do not come here.

Finals confrontation

This was it. My breath steamed in the remnants of the early morning chill, mixing with the dew that was rapidly burning off what grass remained on the field. Metal and boots had churned the damp grass to a muddy slurry; everyone looked the same from the knees down. But on our torsos, the colours were still visible. And they mattered.