A Quickie

Here’s a quickie – or Flash if you will…
I took part earlier this year in a flash fiction challenge hosted by Leone Ross.

Here’s the final exercise where we had to start with a short story then half it and half it again. NOT edited so excuse any nonsense, I’m trying to bat it out to you as raw and uncensored as possible.

I wonder if they still hold their meaning. I quite liked the last one but then I wondered if it only made sense to me as I’d read the other two first… (apart from writing it!)

Anyway – what do you think?

By the way – Flash is FUN!!!

The Last Day (299
words)
The last day drips slowly covering
everything in it’s woozy hypnosis.
All I want is to race
outside and stretch my cramped toes into the grass. We’d made pinhole
cameras from oatmeal boxes, That’s the thing I’ll remember. I’d sat
cross legged around the wire holding up a telegraph pole and
positioned my camera between my feet aimed at my crotch. The picture
itches at me through the canvass of my bag. I want to see it again.
Want to see the perspective of the spooky almost Victorian image of
myself. The cable appearing like my own huge silvery cock mighty and
probing the sky high above my head. I love it. I love the picture of
me, so feminine with my cock penetrating the clouds.
Fuck yeah, I thought
when it slowly and magically appeared in the shallow solution. The
darkroom oppressive with the breath of Mr Paul at my shoulders trying
to hold my rigid arm and guide my perfectly capable hands in the
chemical bath.
How to politely shrug
him off in such a confined space?
Luckily, when the image
appeared, for the briefest of moments the appendage looked real. He
stepped back quickly, dropping my hand and clearing his throat.
The memory of this
moment only an hour or so before has me lifting my bag and peering
inside at the image. My face in the shadow of my long hair, I could
be anyone. Anyone. You can see my breasts through my shirt and my
huge huge cock between my skirt.
It is utter confusion
and utter perfection. I have just discovered a new part of my
existence and now I want to run through the grass in my bare feet.
Cock swinging.
The Last Day (143
words)
All I want is to race
outside and stretch my cramped toes into the grass.
We’d made pinhole
cameras from oatmeal boxes.
I’d sat cross legged
around the supporting wire up a telegraph pole with my camera between
my feet aimed at my crotch. The cable thrust high like an erect cock.
Fuck yeah, I thought
when it slowly and magically appeared in the shallow solution. The
darkroom oppressive with the breath of Mr Paul at my shoulders trying
to hold my rigid arm and guide my perfectly capable hands in the
chemical bath.
When the image cleared,
for the briefest of moments the appendage looked real. He stepped
back quickly, dropping my hand and clearing his throat.
I have just discovered
a new part of my existence and now I want to run through the grass in
my bare feet.
Cock swinging.
The Last Day (77 words)
The image burns into
the shiny paper, scaring off the advances of my teacher in the
darkroom. He recoils at the picture appearing of me with a cock
between my legs. My cock.
The pinhole camera had
been perfectly positioned – an optical illusion. Sitting cross
legged behind a cable shooting up to steady a telegraph pole.
Feminine transformed.
The bell ends the last
day.
I run to freedom
stretching my toes in the grass.
Cock swinging.

This is inspired by a true event – I did make this photo – sadly it is either lost, or worse languishing somewhere in the attic!

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