Stories · Writing

Flash Fiction Week – Day 3 – Story Beginning

Story Prompt: It sounded like violin music, and it was coming from the basement…

Tamoor’s Story (451 words)

It sounded like violin music, and it was coming from the basement. Susan wrinkled her brow and spoke from the page

“Oh, so you want me to go to the basement, obviously so you can slowly build atmosphere, as you slowly reveal the dark secrets in the dreary basement, why is it always the basement with you people?”

The omniscient narrator is stunned yet his fingers keep tapping.

“Now look here you. I am not going in that bloody basement you hear me?”

The narrator pauses for a second ………………

This character is becoming a bit of an issue, she should move on my orders like the obedient pawns in a chess game.

“Hey, I want out of this story or novel or whatever you’re trying to write.”

The narrator does not speak, he can do whatever he wants there is no need to discuss anything with his creation, and she can’t do anything without my consent. I created her, I created this world.

“You are missing some details in the kitchen though, you have the basic structures right , cabinets , appliances. But see the cabinets are empty , there is nothing in there , of course not the kind of detail anyone wants, but still you should at least think about me after all I have to live in this world , a bit of detail wouldn’t go amiss.”

Should she use that word? thought the narrator. She was supposed to be a high school dropout turned Midwestern house wife. She’s getting out of hand. There is only one way of this world for her, for anyone really. She must be killed.

“What! You bloody bastard!”

There was a knock at the door; Susan felt a powerful urge to answer it

“Oh no, I do not; don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing.”

The door was knocked down and in came this creature with tentacles for a face and legs the size of boulders……

“That’s Cthulu , what is he doing in this story, could you at least kill me with something more original?”

“That’s it; I’m out of this hackneyed nonsense.”

Wait Susan, you can’t go, this is my world, mine, mine, mine…………..

Susan began to walk out of the door as the details fell away, the streets, lamp posts and the dogs on the side walk. They all slowly disappeared. Hey I can narrate my own tale. Susan realized. She was surrounded on all sides by the void. A blank page for her story, a new beginning to write her own destiny and she sat down in the place with no up, down, beginning, middle or end and though

This is a good place to start


My Story (498 words):

It sounded like violin music, and it was coming from the basement.

Eric thudded on the floor of the living room with his heel, then yelled “Shut up down there!”

The music stopped. Then after a while, it started again, quieter this time and sadder. Not that Eric had much of an ear for that kind of music. Grumbling, he glanced up at the clock. Time to go give the Thing its food.

He thudded down the stairs to the basement. Balancing the tray in one hand, he reached out to flip the switch for the bulb hanging from the basement ceiling. The tray had some grubby fruits. Not much but enough for the Thing to get by. It was only a matter of two more days…that was all the allowance he was going to give the fans of the Thing and it’s grubby friend James to collect the ransom.

Light flooded the dark space, illuminating badly-stacked boxes and broken-down equipment. Dust particles slowly swirled in the yellow glow. The music was drifting from a dim corner, where a dark shape was huddled. It shifted and extended itself, coming into the light. The music stopped as it stretched it legs and stood up, as far as the restraints would allow it.

The Old Green Grasshopper blinked carefully in the light. His monocle was shattered, but the eyes that focused on Eric still shone with intelligence. With a soft sound he murmured, “Please let me go.”

Eric grunted, gave no reply. He put the food on the floor and then slid the tray closer to the Grasshopper. A look of disdain passed over the green face, but then, as if realizing the severity of his situation, was replaced by resignation.

“How much longer are you going to keep me here?”

“Until your so-called friends cough up. Then I’ll drive you out and release you. Pretty sure you can make your own way home.”

“My friends don’t have that kind of money.”

Eric snorted. “The boy with the world famous peach, all those other giant bugs he calls his friends getting coverage and book releases and being paid to be studied and everything? And isn’t one of your friends the owner of that nationwide shoe store? And isn’t the City paying another to be Lady Liberty’s torchlight? And you tell me they don’t have money?”

“Please, just let me go.”

Eric looked at the Thing with growing revulsion. It shouldn’t even exist. It was a giant bug. An abomination. His hands itched to get the gun and just shoot it.

“You better hope they have the money, bud. Because if they don’t, there’s only one thing I can do. And I’d be pretty happy to do it too.”

The coldness of his words and tone chilled the Grasshopper to the bone. Eric turned and went back up the basement stairs, closing the light and locking the door behind him, leaving the Grasshopper alone with his thoughts in the dusty darkness.


Some Points: my story is a fan fiction and uses characters from the children’s book James and the Giant Peach, so if you haven’t read the original I suggest you check out this so you can make sense of it. Tamoor’s once again taken a very unique take on the topic and I absolutely love it ❤ coincidentally he borrowed a character too (from the great Lovecraft) but only briefly while mine was more central to the post.


2 thoughts on “Flash Fiction Week – Day 3 – Story Beginning

  1. Tamoor’s story reminded me of that movie Stranger Than Fiction and the ending of Sophie World’s. And I guess Shumaila’s story was a result of some quick word association.

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