As I continue to develop my writing skills, one of the main things that I’m trying to do is push myself to try new styles, techniques and subject matter. What I have begun to notice however, is that unlike my longer works, any flash fiction that I produce tends to be a tad, well, evil. They are always written in the first person, and the narrator is usually committing some kind of crime or generally being a twisted individual indeed. Should I (or those around me) be worried, perhaps?
Whether they are actually the exploration of the dark side of my soul, or just a way of a fledgling writer exploring words (FYI it’s the latter), they are fun to write. So here is a piece written for a competition with a 150 word limit, with the prompt word ‘plant’.
To most that enter my office, the numerous pots lined up on the windowsill contain simple shrubs, fern and cacti. Most pay them no heed.
To the few poor souls who know the truth, the plants provoke fear so magnificent, that my every whim is their command. These are the Knowing, though they yearn for ignorance.
A recent addition grotesquely perches upon my desk. A wizened, gnarled monstrosity that hangs lugubriously at the prospect of the perpetual melancholy it is doomed to endure. The Knowing who enter regard it with horror, their faces contorting into monstrous embodiments of the weed itself.
“Is that..?” They anxiously begin to enquire.
“It was.” I viciously retort.
They flee, screaming promises to never make the same mistake of the one they used to know.