Monday One-Word Writing: Slipup

Today is the third week of my Monday One-Word Writing. In case you missed the first two (which you can find here and here), each Monday, I take one word and write some flash fiction about it. I’ve been using a random word generator, but I’d love to start using your ideas, so if you have a word, make sure to leave it in a comment below! Today’s word comes from an online generator, and the word is slipup. Without further adieu, enjoy!

“You won’t get a thing from me.”

“On the contrary, Mr. Walker, we have gotten everything we need from you. Everything except for one thing.” The man emerged from the shadows, and for the first time in the three days Agent Walker had been trapped here, his captor’s face was fully revealed. The man had all the typical features of a Chinese man, which was to be expected when captured while spying on the Chinese. But his captor’s skin was darker than the average man of Shanghai, hinting at a mixed lineage reacently. Under normal circumstances, Walker would have pondered this for some form of leverage. But these were not normal circumstances.

“And what exactly have you gotten from me?” Walker spat from the chair he was handcuffed to, trying to sound intimidating.

“You spies think you’re clever, finding information without divulging any of it. But you do divulge it, and Mr. Walker, you have divulged enough.”

“Enough?”

His captor grinned. “Enough for us to find out all about you,” he said. “And your girlfriend.” He waved, and a man came in holding a tablet with pictuires and documents on Walker’s girlfriend back in the U.S.

“You wouldn’t dare,” Walker growled.

“Oh, we would, Mr. Walker,” the man said. “And we could. It does not take much to make a murder look like an accident. Surely, you must know that.” His captor grinned again.

Walker was outraged. “You can’t touch her! I won’t let you!”

The man leaned in close. “Then tell us what you know.”

“Making me choose between the plans and her! You…”

“Plans.” The man stood straight and wiped Walker’s spittle off his face. “That sounds promising. That will be all for today, Mr. Walker. Please, enjoy the finest luxury China has to offer you.” The captor left the room, and the second man placed the tablet on the floor in front of Walker, leaving the images of his girlfriend displayed.

Well, there it is! If you liked this, please leave a comment below, and don’t forget to include in that comment a word for me to use next week!

Monday One-Word Writing: Monkfish

This week’s Monday blog post is about a rather unusual word. I went to a random word generator and got, well, the word monkfish. I had no idea what a monkfish is (in case you don’t know either, click here). After a bit of reading about the monkfish, I came up with this. Please, enjoy!

 

It’s always so dark down here. Why do I have to live down here? Oh yes, the food, I remember as something brushes against my lure. Just a little closer. I can feel it stir in front of my mouth.

I lunge out and catch the thing in my mouth. Ugh, shrimp. Again. The darned things had little armor plating that made them impossible to eat without hurting some part of the mouth. What I wouldn’t give for a soft little fish. When was the last time I had one of those? It felt like so long, but time meant nothing to me. There was no way to gauge it without light. Every once in a while a spear of light would come down from above, and I would swim towards it to explore what sights it brought, along with many other inhabitants of this little world.

But wait! I feel another stirring in front of me. Maybe I’m going to get another soft little fish. Oh happy day! I twitch my lure closer to my mouth…

And the thing lights up! Light, real light, like I’ve never seen before! So bright it blinds me, and I swim away. But I come back to explore the thing again, this time with my eyes closed. I feel the currents the thing makes. It feels like… a dying fish? I had only ever experienced that once before, and that fish hadn’t lit up when it died. But this thing seems just like that dying fish in every other way, it’s sporadic movements and the way the current flowed around it.

The light’s going to attract others here. I should eat this before they come. Eat this? I stop myself. Should I really eat this thing, when I have no idea what it is? My head doesn’t say yes, but my stomach growls in protest of a pure shrimp diet. I give in to the urge and lunge out to eat it.

I bite into a mass of something that definitely is not meat. I pull once, but I can’t break free, and I feel a sharp jab into my upper jaw. Suddenly, I’m whisked upwards at high speed by this mysterious thing. Light starts to appear from above, and I close my eyes against it. I feel a difference in my surrounding, and with a start realize that I am not surrounded by water. No water? What is this strange substances I am suspended in? I remember nothing more than the vibration through this strange substance of some large creatures pulling me towards them.

 

Hope you like it! If you have a word for next week’s One-Word Writing, please leave it in a comment. I’ll choose one to use for next week, which means you could be the inspiration for the story next week. So what are you waiting for? Leave a comment below!

Monday One Word Writing: Ventilating

For my Monday morning blog posts, I believe I’ve come up with a great idea. I’m calling it One Word Writing – basically, I take one word and try to make an entire short story out of it. This week, since it’s the first week, I used a random word generator to come up with my word. My hope is to have you guys comment below with a word for me to write about next week, and I will choose one and write the story about that.

In case you couldn’t tell from the post’s title, this week’s word is “ventilating”. Take a look below for the story!

Ventilating

Peter woke groggily. The room was dark. Where am I? he thought. Think, Peter, think. What happened to me?

Peter remembered leaving the bar after one too many drinks. Things were getting hazy, and this guy had offered him a ride home. Peter wasn’t stupid – he wasn’t going to drive himself after that last Guinness. The last thing he remembered, he was looking out the window as they drove down the interstate.

Man, did I pass out in his car? That’s embarrassing. Peter got up from the floor and immediately felt warmer. Concrete he realised. I was laying on a concrete floor. I don’t have any concrete floors in my house.

“Hey!” Peter yelled. “Hey, where am I?” His voice echoed loudly in the confines of the small room. He walked to the wall and found it was corrugated steel. What the hell? he thought. “Where am I?” he yelled again. He felt his way around the room. It wasn’t much bigger than a closet, and the walls were all corrugated steel. There wasn’t a door, as far as he could tell.

Now he vocalized his emotions. “What the hell?!” he yelled with all his might. The only answer he received was his angered echo. But as his eyes grew used to the dark, he saw a small source of light in the ceiling.

“What’s this?” Upon closer inspection, he found it was an air vent. “Well at least I have you, little guy,” he said. “That’s kind of whoever put me in here.”

The vent closed with a loud metallic snap, and the container fell into total darkness.