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Angela Cavanaugh

Angela Cavanaugh

Tag Archives: flash

Flash Fiction – Cyberpunk Superhero

23 Sunday Nov 2014

Posted by angelacavanaugh in Fiction

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

cyberpunk, flash, flash fiction, short story, sim, simulation, Superhero, virtual world

Last Week’s FFF: Tender

Sound System Regular

 

In the Interworlds, I was a god. Better than that. I was a superhero. Not many players made it to my level. In fact, in the entire history of the Interworlds, almost ten years, there had been less than twenty.

Due to my super-player status, I was part of a league. The Heroes League. Not the most imaginative name. But trying to convince seventeen people who all thought that they were the best the Interworlds had ever seen to pick one name was impossible. Every single one of us wanted a say in naming it. Eventually, the Admins just had to go with something. Heroes League it was. Continue reading →

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Flash Fiction Friday – Tender

15 Saturday Nov 2014

Posted by angelacavanaugh in Fiction

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

awkward, flash, flash fiction, murder, one night stand, short story, story, tender

Last Week’s FFF: Life

 

title

 

Jeremy walked into through the crowded bar.  The noise of a hundred conversations was nearly deafening.  Even worse, he wasn’t a part of any of them.  Arms tucked into his hoodie, he squeezed through the mass of happy, half drunk people and made his way to the bar.    Continue reading →

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Flash Fiction Friday – The Clone Ranger

18 Saturday Oct 2014

Posted by angelacavanaugh in Fiction

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

cheat death, clone, die, flash, flash fiction, live, read, remember, scifi, short story

Last Week’s FFF –Apples

 title

It hurts every time I die. I didn’t think it’d be this way. But what did I expect? I was playing god and cheating death. I should have know there’d be side effects.  Continue reading →

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Flash Fiction Friday – Apples

11 Saturday Oct 2014

Posted by angelacavanaugh in Fiction

≈ 5 Comments

Tags

church, flash, flash fiction, hiding, murder, new identity, read, short story, spy, story

Last Week’s FFF: The Hill

title

The morning mass bells rang loudly throughout the church. Worshipers piled into pews as the chimes echoed to a stop. Reverend Morgan looked at the crowd. It had been thinning the past few weeks. There was once a time when wars or crises would bring people to church in throngs. A time when people wanted to look for hope. Wanted to believe that there was a master plan for everything.

Times had changed. The news broadcasts were increasingly full of more violence, more hopelessness, more corruption of corporations and politicians. People were disenchanted with the church. They were giving up, or at least looking elsewhere for answers. Science doomed the world with reports of global warming. It claimed that Judgment Day was nearly upon us. Yet, less people were coming to repent. People were trying to save themselves with solar panels and space exploration rather than trying to save their very souls.

Reverend Morgan would be sure to put this perspective into his sermon.

Everyone settled, and Reverend Morgan spoke. He fueled his words with passion and conviction. The disenchanted masses mostly ignored him. They checked their social media accounts and texted with those uninterested in attending services. Reverend Morgan began to wonder why he even bothered, or why these people bothered to come at all. It wasn’t enough to only show up. His sermon ended with far less enthusiasm.

He took his position by the church doors and gave fair wells to people as they left. Half of the congregation didn’t even look up from their phones as he tried to engage them in conversation. They dismissed him and kept walking.

Reverend Morgan looked down in despair and quietly prayed for all those passing by him. As he looked at the ground, he noticed a pair of black stilettos with a blood red underside visible on the inside of the pointed heel. He scoffed at the shoes. What a thing to wear to church. They exuded lust.

He raised his head, following the legs up. They were shapely and wrapped in stockings. A short pencil skirt rested effortlessly on her hips. Her thin waste came next, covered in a silky blue blouse. The shirt was unbuttoned one snap too far, revealing a full bosom and the peek-a-boo of a lacy black bra. Her styled, dirty blond hair fell just past her shoulders. Her neck was long and slender.

He was taken aback when he got to her face. By the rest of the package, he had expected the image that populated sinful dreams. There was nothing unpleasant about her face. In fact, the longer he stared at it, the more he came to realize that it had a certain russet beauty. Homely, in a comfortable and familiar way, like home.

She gave a smile and spoke.

“That was quite a moving sermon, father,” she said with a thick Russian accent.

Reverend Morgan became frozen. A cold sweat formed on his brow as he heard the dialect of his origins. A sound that he had escaped from long ago, and had practiced out of his own voice. He swallowed hard and tried to act as if nothing was wrong.

“It’s not father. It’s Reverend. Reverend Morgan,” he said.

A lagging couple left the church. He nodded to them as they passed. They were the last of the congregation. He and the woman were alone.

“Yes. Reverend Morgan.”

She laughed.

“I was quite amused when I heard that you had found God,” she said.

“He is present in all of us, if you are willing to listen for him,” he said.

“Reverend, let’s not play games.”

“Fine. Let’s go inside.”

He led her into the church and closed the double, wooden doors behind them. He walked to the alter, and she followed behind, running her fingers over the pews as she walked.

“What do you want?” he asked.

“Listen to that voice. So convincing.”

“Who sent you?”

“I can understand your confusion, Reverend. After all, you have many enemies. But you should have known that there was no hiding from NOVA. When you turned your back on them, when you sold them out, you were signing your own death warrant.”

He put it together. She was a NOVA spy.

“I didn’t turn my back on them.”

“But I’m afraid that you did. And this little Reverend act has just been borrowed time on which you have been living.”

He solemnly nodded.

“Before you do what you came here to do, do you mind if I read from my bible?”

She laughed again.

“Why not? You pray to your God before you meet him.”

He walked over to the alter and placed his hands on the book, and lowered his head to read. After a moment, he looked back at her.

“How did you find me?” he asked.

“NOVA has many powerful affiliates. Also, you have taken the position of an authority figure. A public one, at that. Normally those who try to disappear don’t stand in front of a crowd every week. You are idiot. But from what I’ve read in your file, you never could stay out of spotlight.”

She walked to the rope hanging from the ceiling. She gave it a tug, and the bells rang out once more.

“It is my greatest weakness,” he said.

She began towards him, drawing her gun from her handbag.

He turned the page on his bible. The rest of the book was hollowed out. The empty pages were filled by a Glock 42 .380. He picked up the gun, pointed it, and fired. The sound of the shot was swallowed by the bells.

Blood spattered from her chest and back as the bullet flew threw her. She fell limp onto the front pew.

He went to her body and propped it upright. Her head hung down, and he placed a bible in her lap. He pocketed her gun, as well as his own.

He took one last look at the church. He had liked it here. But now, it was time to find a new identity and passion. And this time, he’d try to curb his pride and lust for the spotlight, his biggest sins.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Flash Fiction Friday – Grown

27 Saturday Sep 2014

Posted by angelacavanaugh in Fiction

≈ 5 Comments

Tags

clone, dystopian, fiction, flash, flash fiction, human parts, read, scifi, short story, transplant, very short story

Last Week’s FFF: Clank Part 3

 

FoglihtenNo07calt

“We got another one!” I yelled.

On the porch, I tore open the plastic wrap and inspected the goods.  The fully grown male body appeared to be completely intact.  But we wouldn’t know for certain until we opened it up.

My husband stumbled out from the front door.  He looked a lot like the man in the wrapping, only, where this one was young and fit, my husband was thin and frail.  His skin had taken on a yellow tone, and his eyes were bloodshot.

“Is it good this time?” he asked.

“So far.  There’s no obvious deformations.  I’m just glad they sent us a new one at no cost.”

I rolled the man on his back.  His breathing was shallow.  Beside him, taped to the pallet was a pill.  I inserted it into his mouth, and after a moment he awoke.

He stood and stared with a blank expression.  He may have had my husbands eyes, but I could tell he didn’t share a soul.

These clones were grown for one reason only: parts.  They grew at substantially accelerated rates, and were lobotomized at the expulsion from their artificial womb. This made them easier to work with.

I coerced it into a a standing position.

“Ready?” I asked my husband.

He smiled.  It was the first time I had seen him do so with any authenticity since the last man showed up.  He had hope.

I took my husband and the organ donor to the hospital, where the doctor was already prepped and waiting.

I knew that the clone wouldn’t survive the surgery.  But my husband would.

I didn’t feel bad for it. I don’t care what the label said, these things weren’t really human. How could I feel bad about killing something that never knew it was alive?

 

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Flash Fiction Friday – Time Wake

23 Saturday Aug 2014

Posted by angelacavanaugh in Fiction

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

action, fiction, flash, flash fiction, read, scifi, short story, story, time travel

Last Week’s FFF: Azure Mist

 

 

title

Kade pulled his goggles over his head, snapping them snuggly over his eyes.

“Saddle up, boys. This’ll be our last test run,” said Halden.

Kade smiled broadly and plunged ear plugs into his hears. Even with the neon orange sound stoppers, he could hear the hoots of Halden and the Twins. They readied themselves, and settled into quiet concentration.

Kade closed his eyes as he focused on the time. For Kade and his crew, time had a feel to it. It was something they could touch. Something they could manipulate.  Continue reading →

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Flash Fiction Friday – What the Highway Prefers

02 Saturday Aug 2014

Posted by angelacavanaugh in Fiction

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

called, fantasy, flash, flash fiction, future, going west, good read, highway, post-apocalypse, read, scifi, short story, society collapse, travel, write

Last Week’s FFF: Descended

Gist Rough Upr Exbold Two Demo

Deckland rolled his wrist around, grinding the joint together with an audible pop. With his left hand, he rubbed his right, massaging away the tightness in his muscles. He flicked his arm back and forth, returning the feeling to the limb.

Once renewed, he reached for the water canteen on his hip. Hands slick with sweat, he fumbled with the lid. He opened it, and held the container to his lips. He let the last trickle of hot water run into his mouth. He held it there for a long second, absorbing most of it with his parched tongue before swallowing.  Continue reading →

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Flash Fiction Friday – Fireworks

05 Saturday Jul 2014

Posted by angelacavanaugh in Fiction

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

crowd, fiction, firework, fireworks, flash, flash fiction, fourth of july, murder, pier, short story

title

Jimmy kept his arms tucked in tight as he made his way through the thick crowd of people. All around, smiling, happy faces had their eyes trained on the sky, waiting for the show to start. Jimmy snarled as he saw the look of impending awe on their faces.

Continue reading →

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Flash Fiction Friday – Bird of Paradise

14 Saturday Jun 2014

Posted by angelacavanaugh in Fiction

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

brothel, cocktail, cocktails, fiction, flash, flash fiction, murder, read, short story, story

Last Week’s FFF: Ashes

title

Ricky stared at the cards in his hands. He held a pair of twos, and nothing on the table could help him.

“Fold or raise?” Abbot asked, sitting across from him.

Ricky swirled his gin, thinking.

“You sir,” he paused to take a sip. “Are as impatient as a Moscow Mule.”

“As stubborn as one, as well. Now, make your move or I’ll make it for you.”

Ricky sighed and threw his cards face down on the table. The man across grinned and gathered the pot.

“Yeah, yeah,” Ricky said.

He brought his cups back up to his lips, but stopped when he heard a woman’s scream echo down the nearby stairwell.  Continue reading →

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Flash Fiction Friday – Seven-Year Firestorm

30 Friday May 2014

Posted by angelacavanaugh in Fiction

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

apocalypse, fiction, firestorm, flash, flash fiction, meteor, read, seven-year, short story, survival

Last Week’s FFF (well, it wasn’t really one, but I put an exert from the second part of my Skyland serial book.  Check it out, let me know what you think!) – Windchasers

storyt title

The first year was the worst, I think.  The firestorm came out of nowhere.  Hundreds of millions lost their lives that first year.  I’ve forgotten a lot of the last seven years, or maybe I just blocked it out, but I remember the day that it all began.  Continue reading →

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