500 Club (12/2)

It’s Thursday, and that means it’s time to get back in the saddle with the 500 Club. Freshly squeezed flash fiction. Microbursts of inspiration. That’s what it’s all about.

A quicky rules recap below:

  1. Choose a prompt (Or try to incorporate both, if you’re feeling feisty).
  2. Write a 500 word flash fiction based on the prompt.
  3. Post the story to your blog.
  4. Copy and paste the first line(s) or your story and a URL to read more to the comments below, so we can all enjoy your writing.

-OR-

If you don’t have a blog, copy and paste your story into the boxy widget guy to the right, and show us what you got. –>

Prompt bombs away!

1. No matter the weather, she always wore gloves.

-OR-

2. I don’t give a damn about my bad reputation.

….As my nearly-two-year-old would say while running laps around the loft, “GO GO GO!”

About Amy McLane

As Amy Beth Forbes, her work has appeared in divers locations, such as Flytrap, Kiss Machine, Realms of Fantasy, and LCRW. She is currently slaving away at a multi-book epic fantasy, and often forgets to post at personal blog smolderingink.com. Elusive and quixotic, she likes pie, but wouldn’t say no to cake.
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3 Responses to 500 Club (12/2)

  1. Jessica says:

    Sally Sugarhorn was a force to be reckoned with. No matter the weather, she always wore gloves. She never ate pizza without jalapeños and she turned her nose up to tea that was too hot. She only wore red on Tuesdays and refused to speak on Thursdays. On Fridays, she would only respond to “Queen Nillykins”. Some say she was a vampire, others claim they caught a glimpse of talons under those ever-present gloves.

    Read more: http://goshjessy.wordpress.com/2010/12/03/the-unauthorized-biography-of-sally-sugarhorn/

  2. Pingback: Hanging Up The Gloves « The Write Mood

  3. inkgwen says:

    HANGING UP THE GLOVES

    No matter the weather, she always wore gloves. Her gloves always perfectly matched whatever she was wearing. Today, she wore her old black leather gloves. These were her favorite. Outside it was 72 degrees, and raining. She pulled up to the cleaners in her silver SUV. All Maria could see were the gloves on the steering wheel. “Ms. Rubio is here,” Maria told Ilana, retrieving her clothes.

    Read more: http://inkgwen.wordpress.com/2010/12/09/hanging-up-the-gloves/

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