Blah, here's a one-shot Flash Fiction

[Waytfm]

So, instead of working on any of my actual stories on here, I went and did a flash fiction. Priorities man, priorities. I tried to keep it under 300 words, but didn't quite manage it, and I don't feel like editing right now. It's a small scene from Mathilde Aschner's childhood. She was a much darker then than she would be now (At least in my head).

I think I tried to fit a bit too much in it, but try to enjoy it anyways. Critiques, as always, are welcome.

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“Mathilde! Wo bist du?!” I feel a smirk break on my face at the words, peering down on my mom through the leaves. Up here, at the tip top of the tree, she’d never see me. The old hag keeps on looking though. How dare she try and ground me!? School and grades were both rubbish. Why should I care about them? Why should she care about them? This’ll show her.

Even from my perch up above, I can hear her frustrated groan. I can see the worry in her body motions. The wind picks up, the branches shake, and my smirk grows. She hadn’t seen an inch of me in hours.

“Mathilde!” She calls out again. A small giggle to myself is my only response. It’s not like she can hear me anyways. She wanders around the yard, still searching. The more she looks, the more desperation creeps into her voice. She checks behind the small plastic playground that sat near the fence, it’s colors worn and faded from years of sunlight. I’m not there silly. Keep looking. She ducks down, and peers into the crawlspace underneath the house. Nope. I’m not there either. I guess you’d better continue the hunt. She goes next to check behind the hedges that line our house, thick and neatly trimmed. In doing so, she walks out of my sight, now blocked from my view by the leaves that conceal me. My smirk turns into a frown. It’s no fun if I can’t see her.

I shift my body ever so slightly to catch sight of her again… and the wind gusts again. The shifting braches catch me off balance, and I plunge down. Limbs strike me as I fall, knocking the wind from me. I flail desperately, but I still tumble down. I hit the ground with a sickening thud and pop, and pain radiates up my arm. I black out, with the Father’s words about “Honor thy mother” echoing in my head.

[Ravenous]

This is on par with that one death by werewolf girl scene that was posted a while back. Except the werewolf one was WAY more gorey.

It is cohesive but its like the fall was very sudden and deliberately used to end the little sketch. To hyperbolize, its like spending a few minutes on every wrung of the ladder and then hit the floor, the end.

[Waytfm]

Yeah. I'm not very used to flash fiction. It's a tricky thing. It's something I'll really have to work on.

[TheCynic]

I don't think I really like flash fictions much.

It was descriptive and flowing, waytfm; nice job there.


But i somehow can't stop feeling it lacked direction? Or, a proper halt in the flow? The ending was sort of rash.
That being said, i don't think I could do much better. But I do want to try fan-fic-ing on Mathilde.