Flash Fiction – Page 16 – Hugh's Views & News

Where Unicorns Come From #flashfiction

Published on Apr 30, 2019Dec 29, 2025 by Hugh W. Roberts44 Comments

“Come on, I’ll show you where unicorns come from,” said a convincing, eight-year-old, Tracy.

“Is it very far?” asked her best friend, Allison.

“No, just a few minutes’ walk, over to that small wood,” Tracy pointed out. “The grown-ups won’t miss us. We’ll only be gone for a few minutes.”

As the two young girls walked away, their parents enjoyed a picnic that included several bottles of sparkling, English, white wine. Helped by the warm sunshine of a late summers’ day, the laughter and merriment that filled the meadow made the slow disappearance of the girls go unnoticed.

“This is the place,” Tracy decided, as she peered towards a leafy, green glade, at the centre of which was an old, moss-covered stone trough.

“But where are the unicorns?” asked Allison. “I can’t see them.”

“In there,” responded Tracy, as she pointed towards the old, moss-covered stone trough. “Go on, have a look,” she smiled, as she gently pushed the girl who was one month younger than her towards the trough.

Taking a few quick steps towards the moss-covered stone relic, a slightly chilly breeze blew through the red ribbon that sat on top of golden curls that always bobbed up and down whenever Allison accelerated from a gentle walking pace. With goosebumps populating her bare arms, she peered down into the shallow trough.

“I can’t see any unicorns, only green stuff and a few yellow leaves,” sighed Allison.

“You’re not looking closely enough,” laughed Tracy, as she walked towards Allison. “Can’t you see the rainbow coloured horn of the baby unicorn poking through?”

Placing her hands on her knees, Allison bent forward to take a closer look, but couldn’t see any evidence of a rainbow coloured horn.

“No,” replied, Allison. “All I can see is green stuff and a few fallen leaves.”

“Oh, you won’t find the unicorns in there,” came a voice that startled both girls. “I’ve moved them all to a safe place. It’s unsafe for them in there.”

Turning around, both girls raised their hands to protect their eyes from the glare of the sun that occasionally flashed through the branches of the trees that surrounded the old trough.

“I’m the Unicorn Keeper,” declared the figure with a long grey beard, and who Tracy thought looked like a wizard. “The unicorns are all safe. I can take you to them in my magical vehicle if you like? It’s just over the hill on the other side of the meadow. Come on, take my hands and I’ll take you to them,” he said, as he turned to walk away in a direction that would take the girls out-of-sight of their parents.

Several minutes later, as the two unicorn-loving girls walked hand in hand with the stranger who seemed like a very nice wizard, he told them stories of a magical place he was taking them to, where nice things were about to happen, and where there would be unlimited ice-cream.

Written in response to the #writephoto challenge hosted by Sue Vincent at Sue Vincent’s Daily Echo.

The Porthole

Published on Mar 20, 2019Dec 29, 2025 by Hugh W. Roberts74 Comments

Everybody has a chance, but it does depend on where you are at the time it appears. I only say that because I am sure I have seen some of the faces here, before. Like, for example, your face.

Now, as we watch the young child take her chance to join us, I will do all I can to make sure she makes it in time, but I need your help too.

What I have created now looms in front of her. If this had been happening a few years ago, I would have had full control over how long the porthole on our spaceship would remain open. Now, however, my power over my creation seems to be weakening.

Even though I know life has been cruel to this child, you’re not so sure, are you?

From what I have witnessed, this child will be a credit to both of us. And, as our world is dying, we need all the souls we can get to build our army.

“Run, child, run,” I shout, as she nears the opening. But you remain silent. Why?

We need her to help save our world. Don’t you see that?

My heart drops when I see the porthole begin to close. I can hear my followers behind me screaming, yet you remain silent. I hope the child makes it through in time.

With a mighty leap, she makes it through before it closes.

“Daddy,” she whispers, as she wraps her arms around my waist. I could tell she now felt safe.

“Now go, child, go do all the bad things you really meant to do when you were on that world. No more being good and trying to make yourself acceptable because of what others told you. The world you have just left was too cruel to you.”

As she looks up at me and smiles, I know she will not fail me.

“Thank you, Father. I always wanted to meet the Devil and come to Hell.”

***

Written in response to the Monthly Speculative Fiction Writing Prompt, from Diana, at Myths of the Mirror. Click here for full details.

The Battle

Published on Feb 14, 2019Dec 29, 2025 by Hugh W. Roberts66 Comments

With the dead bodies of her two best friends close by, eleven-year-old Miranda carefully raised one of the window slats with her finger and peered out into the garden.

She watched as the massive creature, known as a Nellyphant, pushed its trunk against the tree house looking for its next meal. Although it was snowing, she could also make out the smaller creatures, known as Mickice, on the roof of the treehouse. They, too, had grown a liking for human flesh.

Miranda’s trap, of leaving her dolls in the treehouse, had worked. The creatures thought they had their next meal, but Miranda knew it wouldn’t be long before they worked out that they had been tricked.

While sliding her hand slowly between the window slats, the door behind Miranda creaked. She froze to the spot, terrified of what was coming into the room. However, she had her weapon ready in her other hand, so she knew she had a good chance of spinning around, taking aim, and killing with one shot whatever was coming through the door.

As she quietly counted down from five, she heard whatever it was, slowly approach her. The wheezing sound it made as it took short, sharp, intakes of breath, made the tiny hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.

Just before her countdown ended, Miranda gripped her weapon firmly, span around, took aim, and faced what was behind her.

“Take this,” she yelled, as she fired her weapon at the biggest Nellyphant she’d seen.

Then the real world appeared.

“OK, young lady, that’s enough,” coughed Miranda’s Mother, while removing the PlayStation virtual reality headset from Miranda’s head. “You’re too young to be playing this violent videogame,” she voiced while holding the box of the game in front of Miranda’s face. “Go play with your dolls instead.”

As Miranda climbed the stairs in protest, her mother blew her nose before slipping on the virtual reality set. Maybe playing a video game would take her mind off the head cold she had.

***

Written in response to the Monthly Speculative Fiction Writing Prompt, from Diana, at Myths of the Mirror. Click here for full details.

The Riddle of Twelfth Night

Published on Jan 29, 2019Dec 29, 2025 by Hugh W. Roberts68 Comments

While trudging through the thick snow with her team, Judy Morrison’s mind was in overdrive. For years, she’d been trying to solve the puzzle of the thirteenth day of Christmas, something mankind had mistakenly taken for granted, and was now almost on the verge of solving the riddle.

Everybody thought that Christmas had twelve days, yet why did the twelfth night of Christmas fall on the thirteenth day?

Jonathan, Judy’s boyfriend, had given her twelve gifts: one on each day of the twelve days of Christmas. On the night he gave her gift number eleven, the night of January 4^th, Judy had visions that the team were being watched by a mysterious force. As the clock struck midnight, and the twelfth day of Christmas arrived, Judy woke screaming from a terrible nightmare.

“What’s wrong,” asked Jonathan, rubbing his eyes, as the cold winds battered their tent.

“We’re all going to die on the sixth day of January,” cried Judy.

“What? Don’t be silly. Go back to sleep. It was just a nightmare.”

Several minutes later, Judy found herself counting backwards to December 25^th, the first day of Christmas. It still didn’t add up why ‘Twelfth Night’ was on the night of the 6^th of January, still over a day away.

The following evening, Jonathan gave Judy the last of his gifts, an engagement ring. Tomorrow, they would celebrate with the rest of their group when they arrived at their final destination, the mysterious village of ‘Twelfth Night,’ alleged to only appeared on January 6th.

As they waited patiently for ‘Twelfth Night’ to appear, Judy Morrison finally solved the riddle. As she turned to Jonathan to reveal the secret of Twelfth Night, the hand of a mysterious force that had been watching them since the first day of Christmas, froze the group in time.

Its secret was safe again from mankind, a species which, one day, it would conquer.

***

Written in response to the Monthly Speculative Fiction Writing Prompt, from Diana, at Myths of the Mirror. Click here for full details.

Visitors #flashfiction

Published on Apr 20, 2018Dec 29, 2025 by Hugh W. Roberts34 Comments

“We’re safe here in the forest until Marlon gets back. All of you, continue to rest and gain energy from bathing in the dappled light of the forest. Hopefully, we have found our new home.”

For 27 days and nights, they waited for Marlon to return. There was an anticipation of excitement in the air when he came back.

“Marlon, what have you found out? Can we live here?”

“I’m afraid not, your majesty.”

“What? Why not?”

“It’s some of the lifeforms of this world, Sir. They cut down the trees. Soon, nothing of this world will be left.”

Written in response to Charli Mill’s 99-word flash fiction challenge, with the theme of ‘Forest Bathing‘, over at the Carrot Ranch.

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Invisible Balloons

Published on Mar 13, 2018Dec 29, 2025 by Hugh W. Roberts75 Comments

You can’t see me, but I’m watching you. You people interest me. Why are some of you unfaithful to the ones you say you love? Why do some of you murder those of the same kind? Why do some of you allow ‘hate’ to rule your minds?

You don’t know it, but each of you has a balloon. Like me, they are invisible to you but surround each of you. When your balloon bursts, you die.

It won’t be long, now, before my balloon bursts and you will all die. This planet, you all so un-love, will be mine.

I have no idea where this piece of flash fiction came from. I didn’t even have to think about the prompt. The first (and only draft) was precise 99-words long. That’s never happened to me before.

Written in response to the 99-word flash fiction challenge with the theme of ‘Balloons‘ over at the Carrot Ranch.

Click here to follow my ‘Entertaining Stories’ magazine on Flipboard.

Black And White #flashfiction

Published on Feb 6, 2018Dec 29, 2025 by Hugh W. Roberts54 Comments

“Well, we’ll never see the blood properly if the movie is in black and white. It’ll be like watching Hitchcock’s ‘Psycho’ with all that chocolate sauce used in the shower scene,” nagged Margaret.

Not only did Colin, her husband, wish he’d never downloaded the movie illegally, but he wished his wife would just stop nagging him all the bloody time.

Twenty minutes later, as the figure with the knife jumped back into their television set, Margaret’s last sight was that of the real colour of blood from the stab wound to her stomach.

“You wanted colour?” smirked Colin.

***

Written in response to the 99-word flash fiction challenge with the theme of ‘black and white’ over at the Carrot Ranch.

Click here to follow my ‘Entertaining Stories’ magazine on Flipboard.

Five A Day #flashfiction

Published on Nov 27, 2017Dec 29, 2025 by Hugh W. Roberts35 Comments

It was getting harder and harder to get my five a day.

Why had I even come here? It was the worst place I’d ever visited, yet they kept me here because I couldn’t find them anywhere else.

However, time was now running out, and I’d soon have to find another place for my fix.

Maybe I should leave now? Yes, that was probably a good idea.

Then, just as I was about to leave and head for the stars, I heard the cry of the human baby. One last meal, and then I’d leave this almost inhospitable planet.

Written as part of the 99-word Flash Fiction Challenge with the theme of Five a Day, hosted by Charli Mills at the Carrot Ranch.

Comfort Food #flashfiction

Published on May 7, 2017Dec 8, 2025 by Hugh W. Roberts45 Comments

“Strawberry cheesecake ice cream? A family-sized fruit and nut chocolate bar? Iced-coconut sponge? What the heck is going on, Simon?”

“Comfort, you said, so I got you some of your favourite comfort foods. I thought the popcorn would bring back memories of our first date. These will all make you feel better. Oh, there’s one more thing.”

Julia rummaged around the shopping bag, hoping he’d got her what she wanted.

“Hot-cross buns? Are you kidding me? When I said comfort, I meant something I could put on my piles so I could sit down and be more comfortable!”

***

Written in response to Charli Mills 99-word flash fiction challenge with the theme of comfort food.