A few days ago, I posted flash fiction challenge #3 on my Facebook Author Page. Authors were encourage to create a short flash fiction story using the supplied image as a story prompt.
There were only two main rules:
- Make your piece less than 150 words.
- Give your piece a title.
Each of these stories came from the same image, but they all took different paths. That’s the part I find interesting. Same starting point. Different instincts.
As you read through them, I encourage you to follow the authors on Facebook. If a piece worked for you, chances are their other work will too.
A big thanks to all who participated:
Below is the image that kicked things off, followed by the stories. Note: I originally posted this image on my Deviant Art page back in 2023.
Likes: 3
Words: 151 (WHAT?)
He pushed the bubbling Germanic stein towards me. “Drink.”
My heart thudded. My fingers fidgeted. All I could think of was Snapdragon—the Halloween game my grandmother played with us. The dragon outlined in flame, and the bowl a golden fire, the chant echoing in my ears: Snap! Snap! Dragon! Take care you don’t get burned.
“I’m here for the job. Not a drink.”
“The jobs for a ghostwriter, you aren’t a ghost yet.”
I gulped and looked out the window. The castle’s sharp profile cut into the night sky.
I turned away, uneasy. A silvery mirror reflected the bubbling brew, but not him. I swiveled around. His pointed eye teeth rested over his red lips. He has no reflection.
"I should go."
His vice-like hand clamped mine. “It’s too late for that.”
He pushed the mug closer.
I shoved it hard across the table and ran out the door.
by Roger Faubush II "Author page"
Likes: 2
Words: 142
The iron tankard hissed between them, steam curling like phantoms. A dragon in mid-flight coiled across its blackened surface, while the handle—skeletal wings intertwined—cast shadows across Juno's scarred knuckles.
"Why us?" Mila's voice scraped like rust. She stared into the Dragonstein, something ancient and bitter.
Juno watched crimson swirl in the depths. "We're cursed to remember."
Outside, Agabon's field lay thick with the fallen. Bodies twisted in final agonies, pride's monument built from broken flesh. The fireball strikes had painted the earth black. Their brothers rotted under carrion birds.
"They believed," Mila whispered. "Believed it mattered."
"It didn't."
She lifted the tankard by its wing-bones, metal singing against wood. "Then we drink to forget."
But Juno knew—survivors never forget. They're condemned to carry the weight until it crushes them.
The Dragonstein scalded going down. It changed nothing.
Likes: 2
Words: 146
I clanged as my battered armor pinched my worn limbs. To the throne of gold, I sat, looking out at the knights that once stood with me on the battlefield.
Steam billowed from the grand doors. The beast of volcanic rage snarled, its scales crackled as it shifted.
“You attempted to steal from me,” the beast said with a deep throated growl. “You shall choose to perish, or your kingdom will become ash as you watch it burn.” A stein of iron embellishments with a dragon dancing upon it contained red bubbles and flaming steam. A knight trembled as he brought it before me.
“Drink it.”
My hand of metal gripped it. I looked out, wishing my knights would decree they would fight. None did. I had committed the sin of greed. The stein touched my lips. It burned as the magma slid down my throat.
by K A Nerney
Likes: 2
Words: 143
The friends sat at the bar, looking bewildered to the tarkard in front if them, it's froth bubbling high and oozing over the side, the flame sizzling on the top. "What do you suppose it'll do?" Demion murmered.
"I don't know, but I'm not trying it till the flames gone out. I ain't burning me mouth," Kaver retorted.
"Why did you accept the dare?" Demion said.
"You know me better than that Dem, Ave I ever turned down a dare?"
"No, but... the flame brew Kav?"
Kaver raised his eyebrows and just looked at Demion, who under Kav's gaze shrunk further into his coat.
Kav took hold of the tankard, took a deep breath, and proceeded to gulp down the foaming brew. Nothing happened for several minutes, then Kav began to sweat, and tremble, he turned orange and slid unconscious to the floor.
Likes: 2
Words: 150
"Barkeep! Your finest house ale!" The stranger was clearly from out of town, perhaps out of time.
The slinger of mead slid a curious stein before the stranger, its froth flaming about, promising unseen worlds and untold secrets. The smell of winter mint and garden herbs emitted from the slosh. Was this elixir a thirst quencher, a soupy broth, or some sort of potion?
Haunting whispers goaded him on. "Drink. Drink! Drink!!!" Captivated and curious, the traveler raised the stein to his lips. With a mix of dread and excitement, he imbibed.
His vision sharpened. Power rushed to his very essence, revealing visions of ancient times and distant futures. Knowledge unfurled.
As he transformed, realization formed. In his pursuit of power, he had become entwined with the curse of the stein. His soul intermingled with those who drank before him. He was one with the cold, hard metal.
"Who's next?"
When Colton Travers was just four months old, a runaway horse on Bent Oak Road cause a car wreck that left his mother dead. His father survived, then vanished. Raised on family stories and faded photographs, he never questioned the past . . . until a worn shoe box of old clippings surfaced with hints of a darker truth. Now, drawn into a fifty-year-old unsolved case, Colton must chase a trail gone cold, where memory holds the clues, time keeps the truth, and justice demands satisfaction.
Stargazing at the June Bug Ranch
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