Friday Phrases!

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Tag: game

The Very Best of FROM THE DEPTHS Part 2!


And, as promised, Part 2 of The Very Best of From the Depths!
Toldya ther e were too many beautiful #FP’s to choose from …

From the Depths.

Susan ‏@SusanJoy10
From the depths came hidden treasure; amongst the sea of rejection slips, an acceptance. #FP

Sreesha Divakaran ‏@petrichorclouds
My dog’s sloppy “good morning” forced me to open my eyes. Next to me was a man with an abnormal tongue, holding a bloody mess of grey fur #

Eric ‏@Blade4hire
In the depths of her pale blue eyes, he saw himself reflected. A man standing on an icy plain. Ill-prepared to withstand Her storms. #FP

Christopher Wilde@ChrisWilde801
We watched the widows
Waiting by the sea
Prowling eyes hoping
a tide might set their sailors free
#HeartSoup #FP

Living Dead Man@Reckoner67
She was hurt, scarred, but unbroken as she emerged from the depths of his mind, one fragile piece of his soul in tow. He was redeemable. #FP

Maryann Holloway ‏@Ma_Holloway
From the depths of the demilitarized zone, a soldier prays he’ll return home. From the depths of her heart, his young wife prays too. #fp

Alexandra Caselle@AlexandraCasell
Her former selves, remnants of circumstances past, danced alongside her, a line of Rockettes kicking legs high at what life dealt next. #FP

Mark W. Carson@MarkWCarson
#FP “No,” the old man replied. “The quest for more bloodshed does not simply come to an end. It tempers the heart to a cold, harsher edge.”

From the depths of the cosmos, the two Gods sang neverending songs of life and death, cradling the Universe in counterpoint & balance. #FP
Karen Faris ‏@karenafaris
The Muse asked “Are you ready?” as she reached in & brought up from the depths of her writer’s soul all that he did not wish to tell. #FP

The media branded her an airhead, shallow, but when I took her & sliced her open in the cellar, I found plenty to scoop from the depths. #FP

J. Spinazzola ‏@JSpinazzola
The sea glass washed ashore without ceremony. How far had it traveled to reflect the sun? A child picked it up, skimmed it back to sea. #FP

Bonita Lynn@irvin_bonnie
From the depths of the seaside cave arose a primal scream. On account of his leisure, he had failed to estimate the timing of the tides #FP

Partly Writing ‏@PartlyWriting
From the depths of my pain and anguish comes only more pain and anguish. Nothing will ever free me from the memories of that day. #FP

Constant Gardener@CnstantGardener
At the gates of hell, stood St Peter. “What!!?” “Your translators really screwed up,” he said, opening the gates for them. #fp

Living Dead Man ‏@Reckoner67
We watched the pinpricks of light in the skies, fearing for the end. We didn’t realize that our salvation would awaken from the depths. #FP

J. Spinazzola ‏@JSpinazzola
Longing carried over radio waves on her way to work: Baby, Baby, Baby. She almost spilt her coffee. Why did her parents name her Baby? #FP

J. Spinazzola ‏@JSpinazzola
We came to this spot in the field. More dandelions than grass. Her caress turned into time, the flowers into seed, the wind into memory. #FP

J. Spinazzola ‏@JSpinazzola
The window washer loved a customer’s view so much he stole one of the windows. He polished the pane daily, but the view wasn’t the same. #FP

Christopher Mahan@chris_mahan
#FP I woke to find her crying.
Nightmare, she said.
I held her,
Smoothed her hair,
Until she fell asleep again,
Back to the depths.

David Buchan@Buchan_David_
From the depths of insanity, I saw you clearly. Your smile cracked & you backed into a wall. You really shouldn’t have disturbed me. #FP

Living Dead Man@Reckoner67
He died that day, though not in vain. On his knees, humbled, broken, but forgiven – the curse lifted, freed from the depths of despair. #FP

From the depth of the hole
She watched the dark sky age
Awaiting the day when the rising red sun would grow her wings to help her escape #FP

Beneath the crushing tide his final breath is met with little more than silence and the sirens call. He is gone though the song plays on #FP

Lynne B.@girlgloaming
Throughout her life, she’d strapped herself into other people’s roller coasters, only to realize it when everything was upside-down. #FP

Of The Wilds@OfTheWilds
From the depths of sorrow came madness and flame. They called the dragon a monster, but what did they expect when they killed his child? #FP

Little Plasti Castle@PlastiCastle
#FP Looking him up & down with disdain, she clutched the knife tight and began to express the depth of her anger.

Linda Norton@Lindalovessnow
She sang from the depths of her soul. Rising, floating on the breeze, many had spoken of her talent; yet she remained 20 ft from stardom #fp

Roger__Jackson ‏@jabe842
I hoped I was ready, but paused as I saw a warning.
“You are about to restart your life. Do you wish to continue?”
I tapped the screen. #FP

She pulled him from the depths of a metropolis sewer. After yearly intervals of trying & giving up, she conceded the relationship stank. #FP

From the depths of the battlefield, the bellows of the cannons drifted to our tents like the baritone song of the Angel of Death. #FP

Phoenix Grey@phoenixgrey85
“In the depths of your heart, can you honestly say you’re happy?” she asked.
“No.” Simple answer.
Can I have a simple solution?

Joanna Maciejewska ‏@Melfka
Lora vented her frustration as usual. By having a cup of chocolate. And by slaughtering the first vendor who knocked at her door. #FP

Hannah Powley ‏@Hannah_Monster
Just a’wandering, his battered guitar his only friend. Miles and miles of dust fell away beneath his feet. Alone but free. #fp

Vanessa Ravencroft@VanessaRaven
#FP From the depth of his right nostril, he pulled a big one. Nose mining was so rewarding. The others in the Office did not think so

Caseyrenée Lopez@caseyreneelopez
With a finger gun pointed at her head,
she squeezed the trigger of imagination, splattering the blood of creativity
across the screen. #FP

Charmer FOLLOWS YOU@bcolditz
Your secret’s aftermath
Strikes from the depths!
With bitter tastes to our breadth
Like a warpath or a bloodbath
I need a hug! #fp #Poem

From the depths of my sky
The rains ascend to yr earth
In yr thigh & in my sigh
Creation is given birth
Feel my pleasure
Feel yr pain #FP

Signy ‏@SignyTheSage
At the princess’ call, the leviathan rose from the depths. Giant tentacles shimmered in the moonlight and snapped the warships in two #FP

Paul Baxter ‏@baxterpm
The wizard tossed the cursed coin to his apprentice. As the student turned into a werewolf, the wizard commanded him, “Keep the change.” #FP

Living Dead Man@Reckoner67
He watched, unable to move, as she reached deep into his chest. From the depths of his soul she produced a black snake; vile, venomous. #FP

Kristen A. Kieffer ‏@ShesNovel
A thrum came from the depths, a resonant sound that swelled through the hole in the cavern. She cursed. They had awoken the dead. #fp

Nate Ragolia@NateRagolia
We spent so much time looking to a future among the stars, we neglected the frontier beneath us. And the culture that lay dormant there. #FP

Nobody knew what happened in the crematorium, just that no-one survived and from the depths of the smoke, there was a child’s laughter. #FP

Donnamarie Davidson@UK_Paintedlady
His broken spirit lay torn, kneeling she softly lifted it to her lips breathing him into her depths from which they emerged again as one #FP

God is tricksy ‏@AdrianYoung10
A pang
of guilt
quick flex
of mental muscle

A gargle
a mutter
quick nip of
whisky kerfuffle

And from
the depths
of melancholy
a calm #FP

Phoenix Grey ‏@phoenixgrey85
From the depths of sleep and dreams she rose, half in one world, half in another. Stars danced in her vision. No, not stars. Magic. #FP

He heard the laughter his first night. He dug up all the graves but found only bones. He heard it every night for the rest of his life. #fp

#fp An icy wind blew. From the depths of hell a voice shouted “Shut the bl**dy door!”

Phoenix Grey ‏@phoenixgrey85
From the depths of her heart, she dredged up a shred of empathy. To give what he could not. Compassion. #FP

I love you. He didn’t know where it had come from. He’d never said it before. He stopped time. He couldn’t chance her not saying it back.#FP

From the depths of the palace came a resounding gong strike. The sound echoed through the kingdom. Genghis was dead. Long live the Khan. #FP

Brent L. Collins@crowguye
Arn snorted.”Yer the King’s oldest douchebag, so you’ll inherit.”
“You mean SON.”The Prince said.
A smirk.”Sure. My English ain’t good.” #FP

He saw himself in the depths of her green eyes, hands around her throat. Not a man, but a beast. He smashed every mirror in the house. #FP

From the depths of a dream she awoke. Perseus held her up, poor snake children writhing atop her head, and she turned the world to stone. #FP

Ruzzel Zullo @rmzullo
The desolate landscape of her wintery heart did nothing to warm his darkened soul, yet they held each other anyway. #fp #fridayphrases

Brent L. Collins@crowguye
Shaky and sweating, a pale Tim shied from the precipice. “I have no problem with the height,” He said “It’s the depths that disturb me.” #FP

J.T. Robertson ‏@jayteerobertson
Sam climbed the well, fingers raw and bloody from his panicked ascent. The thing below screamed as the boy dragged himself to freedom .#FP

“Why should I testify? You’re going to find me guilty.” “Oh, you’re prescient, now? I’ll add witchcraft and insanity to your charges.” #FP

Vicki Addesso@VickiAddesso
List is long, to-do’s too much
so bets are on I’ll have to rush
but here & now I lie with you
like I got nothing else to do.
Kiss me! #FP

Barbara Spencer ‏@ghostmmnc
#FP From the depths of her mind came the unending stream of crazy phrases…”Make it slow down,” the #FP writer cried.

Vanessa Ravencroft@VanessaRaven
#FP “From the depth!” He said smiling and gave her the present.
“Oh for Christ sake. You are a sewer worker. I don’t need used tampons!”

Rachael Parry@ParawlPerwyl
Wounds that cut this deep may scar on the surface but underneath they still bleed. #FP

Barbara Spencer ‏@ghostmmnc
#FP Honestly, she tried to keep them hidden…but, from the depths of her closet, the skeletons rattled their bones. Tonight they are free.

Donnamarie Davidson@UK_Paintedlady
Thrashing through the misty blue
Eyes of golden honeydew
Preying on the lovesick
Mariner’s soul
Pulling him deep
& devouring him whole #FP

I’ve been molded from the depths of your imagination. And even when I’m in your presence, I’m still just a fantasy…
No more. No less. #FP

Karen Ohren ‏@KarenOhren
From the depths
of dark despair
his name tattooed
across her skin
she erased his touch
with a bleeding heart.

Karen Ohren ‏@KarenOhren
From the depths
of her confusion
clarity slowly seeping
like an open wound
the truth bled through. #FP

Bored Monkey ‏@1_Bored_Monkey
Our chapter done
Book now closed
Cruel to see
That you deny me
Even a tear
Are you afraid to look?
Now that wounds are all I’m made of? #FP

Little Plasti Castle ‏@PlastiCastle
#FP He reached into the depth of his pocket & found he couldn’t touch the bottom. Stretched deep, elbow, shoulder. Then it grabbed him

God is tricksy ‏@AdrianYoung10
I was fishing and felt a bite so I reeled up my line slowly from the depths. Pinned to the hook was a note that read…
‘I hate worms’ #FP

God is tricksy@AdrianYoung10
Deep in your mind, hidden from prying conscious thoughts, spirits visit your dreams, haunting you from the depths of your imagination. #FP

God is tricksy@AdrianYoung10
As the high priest threw the last human sacrifice into the fiery pit he heard a faint cry from the depths ‘I know the lottery numbers’ #FP

As the group descended into the ominous cave, the aroma of centuries-old carrion still filled the balmy air from the depths within. #FP

Much about @mulrune.


Profile Pic We see his name on @FridayPhrases every Friday without fail, dedicated to bringing us the most brilliant micro-fic magic about magic, zombies, trolls and more that blow our minds and brings out the best in #FP.
Ladies and gentlemen, #FP-ers from all over, I give you S. Mulrune!

#FP: What do you love most about writing? What drew you to it specifically?

SM: Writing allows me to craft amazing worlds in my mind, and then share them with others. What’s not to love about such a grand art form? I wrote my first story when I was very young, a little paragraph about a space launch on a notecard. I was excited to show it to my parents. While I can’t recall the exact reason I was driven to write that first time, I know the thrill of showing the glimpse of an imaginary world to others was a huge motivator. And that drive to share has continued to drive me ever since. From my parents, to school teachers, and now to the world, I’ve always been most stoked about the writing process when I knew others were reading the ideas that came out of my mind.

#FP: So, what have you written? 

SM: My blog has a plethora of flash fiction and serves as a hub to find my current projects. My light novel, Dermaphobes, is about a zombie apocalypse where the undead are the result of a sentient fungus. Flash fiction took up most of my writing time in 2014, and I have one collection of flash fiction at Smashwords, Sinister Arcana Shards, Vol. 1, which is a tie-in for an upcoming novel. A serialized short story, Spears of Our Mothers, can also be found on my blog. I created the character of Monica Skinner on a whim and Twitter readers liked her, so I gave her the spotlight in a zombie apocalypse setting. My Twitter account is also active with my flash fiction, especially on Fridays for Friday Phrases.

#FP: What are you working on at the minute? Tell us a little about it. What was the inspiration for it?

SM: The current project in my roster is Paladin 13. Its description: “A gamer enters one final tournament before calling it quits on her habit. She’s among thousands of players eager to take the first steps into a virtual reality fantasy world, but she’s also among the Paladins, champions competing for a large cash prize. Once inside the game, she discovers the world is a hostile winter landscape filled with ruthless creatures. Worse, her rule-bending approach to the game has earned her contempt from the other Paladins. The mission is simple, assassinate the deposed ruler of the kingdom. But the 13th Paladin must venture through the game world with little support, facing game characters that are realistic to the point of sentience, and discovers that the deposed king may be more ally than foe. She finds the proper thing to do might be valuing virtual lives over the other players, and having the courage to stand up to her fellow Paladins.”

The sequel, 13 Crows, deals with the game in its live version. There’s a worldwide fan base with millions of subscribers, but errant elements rise to power. A prequel novella, Time Left [Suffering] Together, is about a dying human girl exiled to a fantasy world. She befriends a golem that survived the destruction of its empire, but their relationship is strained by the secrets she keeps. Two serialized short story tie-ins, Seeking Human and Voidheart, are planned to run on my blog. There will also be flash fiction collection tie-ins in the form of Sinister Arcana Shards volumes. For those interested in the series, Discover Yourself is a short story tie-in set within the first battle of Paladin 13, and can be found below.

The entire series is set within a game world, but an underlying goal is to raise larger ethical questions. Does artificial intelligence deserve rights? Can a human soul be copied? What are the effects of simulated violence when they’re on par with reality? These ideas are the backbone of series inspiration. I love stories set in game worlds, but I’ve always wondered about lives of the non-player characters. For instance, what would you do if you found out all the death and suffering in your world was only for the entertainment of outsiders? That’s what these NPCs go through, and that spark led to a whole series of stories.

#FP: What draws you to this genre, to flash-fiction/ #FP? What do you love and hate about it?

SM: I’ve always enjoyed fantasy and science fiction, and will continue to do so. As for flash fiction in particular, its fun is twofold for me. First, the sharing that I mentioned earlier. Flash fiction is easier to share, and I can fill entire days with tiny stories through Twitter if I want to (and often do). The second thrill comes from the challenge. It looks easy on the surface, since one just writes a couple sentences. But therein lies the great difficulty. It can be hard to pack a story into such a small space. Characters, motivations, settings, plots, twists, and resolutions often can’t all fit at once, and it can be agonizing to carve down or cut out one or more of those elements. What looks easy suddenly becomes as hard as plating an entree inside a teacup!

#FP: Why do you write? What inspires you most about it?

SM: I write to explore ideas and share them with others. Inspiration can come from anything, anytime, anywhere. That’s why I keep a pocket notebook with me at all times. There isn’t one particular source of inspiration that hits me harder than others. I can be in the middle of grocery shopping or commuting and be struck by the muse.

#FP: Do you work to an outline or plot or do you prefer just see where an idea takes you? Plotter or Pantser?

SM: I take a hybrid approach, developing a framework of major ideas before heading out and writing away. I find that prepared structure and freedom of ideas hold equal weight in my writing. Even when I come up with a long outline of things that need to happen in a chapter, I probably only follow half of it. Likewise, when I just fly by the seat of my pants, I often find myself creating a few notes for a makeshift outline.

#FP: What is the hardest thing about writing for you?

SM: Editing is what I find most difficult. It’s hard for me to clean up my own writing, as I often read things not as I wrote them, but as I had intended them. I end up passing right over typos. But I do find a ton of things to clean up, and that’s painful. I seriously stare at the screen sometimes and go, “That text abomination came from my fingers?!” Then I quietly edit it and am glad it’s one I spotted before sharing.

#FP: What is your favorite motivational phrase/musing on writing, why? What do you tell yourself every time it gets hard?

SM: “Write” or “Get it out of your head and into writing” are good reminders to just write! I believe waiting for inspiration to write is for dreamers, not writers. It’s as easy to say you want to write as it is to say you want to be a pro athlete, because anyone can dream. Actually pursuing a dream and forcing it into reality is a whole different matter. When I get into a block, I remind myself that no one’s going to finish the story but me, and no one will get to see it unless I finish it.

#FP: What advice would you give to aspiring writers? What helped you make it to this point?

SM: I’m an aspiring author, myself, so I don’t feel justified in giving any profound advice. But I can share my journey as I go along and hope it’s helpful for someone further behind on the trail. The bottom lines is, you need eyeballs on your work in order for it to get read. That means having writing out in the world. As of this writing, I have 13,000 followers on Twitter and my blog has had more than 10,000 views. Small potatoes, but it’s far from being a complete unknown. And the only way I’ve gotten this far is by sharing as much of my work as possible. Flash fiction has been instrumental in that regard.

#FP: How can readers discover more about you and you work?

SM: My Twitter is the best way to get in touch with me and see my Friday Phrases flash fiction each week. My blog is where I post flash fiction collections and any announcements.

Discover Yourself

The main thing on Patch’s mind was whether the programmer had lied to her when he said the pain sensors were turned down. That was before the enemy behind her pushed a second time, hard enough to force the tip of a sword out through her breast.
She looked down at the cruel blade, which smiled back with a sloppy mouth painted in her own blood. The tarpan emblem on her tabard was ruined, but it was the least of her concerns. A rush of adrenaline forced her to forget the programmer’s lies, the damaged uniform, and the sword in her rib cage.
Patch was alive. She glanced down at her feet, well below her, and smirked. A lesson flickered through her mind, one that she was grateful reality never taught her. She could survive being impaled through the back. Her feet followed her will, and she turned around to meet her foe.
Even with the near-death rush, Patch wasn’t ready for the towering hulk of scars that stood a full foot taller than her own beanpole frame. Beady eyes glared out from the base of a giant nose and through strands of oily blonde hair. The barely-humanoid, gray creature sneered with a mouth full of jagged, yellow fangs. The weaponless foe spread out his arms, showing off his muscular form and hands that ended in bear-sized claws.

Patch almost gasped, but caught herself when she spotted glee flash across the twisted face. She matched the sneer of her foe, and it let out a hiss that reeked of rotten meat. Their eyes were locked and the two focused only on each other as a battlefield full of players and monsters danced around them. Curiosity overcame Patch and her foe mirrored the expression before his eyes showed anticipation.

The human girl reached behind herself and growled up at her foe. Her hands wrapped around the claymore wedged in her chest and pulled at it. The weapon was slippery with her blood, but she managed to pull it free. She fought a spinning sensation as the giant blade slammed on nearby rocks. She puffed herself up, against her better judgment and the overwhelming pain, and roared once more.

The foe roared back at her. They both bared their teeth and increased their volume, until it was clear neither would back down. Then the scar-covered monster swung a fist.

Patch awoke to the sounds of screams and cries. They were all human. She raised her head up from a pool of cooled blood and found herself among bodies and thrashing wounded.

A young man laid next to her. His knees were bloody and he covered his head as he chanted, “This isn’t real. This is just a game.”

“Needle?” Patch sat up and leaned toward the boy. His voice was familiar, but she couldn’t be sure with his face obscured. “Did we win?”

Needle wedged his fingers open to peek at Patch, then shut them and shook with his face pressed against the muddy ground. “Nothing here is real. We’re all safe in chairs.”

Patch fought against the burning in her chest to turn toward the thuds that sounded behind her and Needle. A scar-covered being approached. It towered over a landscape of broken human bodies, as did many others of its kind. Her heart broke as she realized the human players hadn’t won the battle.

“I’m not here. I’m in a chair.” Needle pressed himself down as the ground shook with the approach of the giant man. “Just a game.”

“You’re playing a game?” The scarred man lumbered over Needle and smashed one of the boy’s ankles under his oversized boot. “So are we.” He lowered his claymore and tapped Needle on the back of the neck. “Do you wish to make your exit?”

Patch darted her eyes between the screaming boy and the scarred man. She weighed the little information she had and asked, “What do you mean, you’re playing a game?”

The scarred man peered down at Patch. “You came to our world to play. We’ll show you the severity of your mistake.” He spun his heel to make Needle scream. “You’ll suffer until you choose to end your own miserable presence.”

Patch forced herself to stand. It took more effort than expected with the pain of her stab wound, but the scarred man waited for her. The other gray hulks paid no attention to her defiance, and continued to torture wounded players around the battlefield. She heard similar edicts issued to the screaming humans. “I refuse to kill myself. I won’t exit until my time’s up.”

The scarred man chuckled and picked Needle up by his shattered legs. His small frame was similar to his body in real life, which meant the giant man could almost grasp him like a doll. He held the screaming human close to his chest, near a dagger tucked in a sash. Before Needle could assess the situation, the scarred man bit down on the boy’s legs.

“Don’t!” Patch reached out, but her own short sword was long gone. She surveyed the battlefield and found no available weapons, save for those stabbed into bodies. “Spare him! He’s my friend.”

“This isn’t your game. It’s our world. Here, trolls make the rules, not humans.” The scarred man sheered off chunks of flesh from Needle’s legs with his fangs, and shook the player before he chuckled and dropped his claymore. He drew the dagger and presented it to the flailing, screaming boy. “Here, this is yours,” he said through chews. “Make your exit before I take another bite.”

Needle wrapped his hands around the hilt of the weapon. He thrashed, and the troll tightened the grip on his shattered legs. “I’m leaving!” He sunk the blade into his heart, and his flailing ceased.

“This is the closest thing to victory you’re allowed in our world,” the scarred man said. He plucked his dagger free before he dropped Needle’s corpse, then threw the weapon at Patch’s feet.

Patch took the weapon, but held the blade out. She peered down the blade to take aim at any vital points. The troll wore only pieces of skins and furs, with no visible armor. However, every inch of his flesh was scar tissue, apparently inches thick. She wished she had the chance to consult a strategy guide for a weakness. “I’m taking you down with me.” She found the only available soft points.

“Finally.” The scarred man stepped over his claymore and paced toward Patch with open arms. “I was growing tired of the overwhelming cowardice of your kind.”

The nearest three trolls halted their gleeful slaughter and turned to watch the exchange.

Patch ran tactical plays through her head. She wished she hadn’t signed up for the prototype RPG simulation. The pain of her wound and the terror of the approaching troll made her miss everything about sitting safely with a keyboard at her fingertips. But she wasn’t at a desk, she was about to face off with a hulking mass of evil. There was only time to rush in.

The scarred man jabbed where Patch’s head had been, but the human girl dove a split second after she began her charge. He kicked, but the girl moved around his boot and latched onto the back of his leg.

Patch grappled with the troll’s shin and stabbed at the achilles tendon. The dagger connected with gray flesh below the soft fur boot and crimson flowed out from a half dozen holes. She was surprised to find her foe showed no sign of agony, and had to switch her strategy. She stood and jolted upward, crawling up and around the towering being like a frenzied cat and grappled with the back of his head, using the man’s long ears as handles. She raised the dagger around her side and swung in for a stab at the man’s eyes.

A fleshy hand blocked the attack, and the dagger sunk into the troll’s palm. Huge fingers closed around the weapon and Patch’s hand, and the scarred man tore the human off his back with little effort. He smirked down at the girl as he shook the weapon free of his palm, letting it fall beside Patch with a splatter of blood.

Patch recovered the weapon and stood again, finding the troll made no effort to reposition himself. Instead, the gray man said a quick incantation and the stab wounds on his hand and foot sealed with a magical red glow. “Terror is your game, isn’t it? I won’t play!”

The troll retrieved his claymore and raised it at the girl. “My people have a saying. ‘In death, you discover yourself.’ In the face of death, your kind grovels, cries, and begs. Your kinfolk are weak!” He coiled his arms for a strike and rotated the blade in his hands by a half-turn. “But you. What do you do when you stare at death?”

“I’m never pointing this at myself,” Patch said as she raised her dagger. She charged, but only managed to lean into her first step before a lightning-fast claymore swung into her extended arm and shoulder with the flat side. Rather than cut her, the sword knocked her over. The pain in her chest was tremendous after being rattled so hard. She discovered she couldn’t use her right arm to push herself up from the ground, with pain about right for what she assumed was a shattered shoulder.

“You’re a human.” The scarred man kicked Patch down when she attempted to stand. “Stay down. Grovel. Cry for mercy. Then beg me for a quick death.” The troll smirked at dozens of his peers, who formed a circle around the pair. “I’ve run you through with my sword and shattered your arm. I’ll feast on your friend’s body. And I’ll feast on you. But first, I need to hear you scream.” He raised his foot to step on the girl.

Patch spun over with the dagger in her left hand and stabbed the troll’s sole. “Beg all you want. I won’t exit.”

The troll backed away and healed his foot with a spell. “Convince your kinfolk to be more like you. If you find any.” He picked up Patch by the scalp and set the girl on her feet. “Next time we meet, we’ll have a true fight. As warriors.”

Three dozen trolls paced out and away from Patch. She was alone a few moments later, the only surviving player among hundreds of bodies. The raid was a failure, but she felt a tinge of victory in her heart for having remained.

The overwhelming silence shocked her moments later, and she fell to her knees.

Friday Phrases is here!


Everyone. Gather.

This is #FP.

Say it to yourself. #FP. Let it roll around your lips, taste it, savor it – Friday Phrases.

What is it, you say? What does it mean, you ask? Will I get to the point, you wonder?

Yes. Yes, I will.

On Twitter every Friday, all day, we host a micro-flashfic party. One tweet. One story. 140-Characters!

The #FP tag connects you to hundreds telling the shortest of all stories, it connects them to you. This is the place where your power for storytelling is shown, this is the place where Friday can live forever. #FP is the chance to make the world feel the thrill, the power, the love, the comedy, the tears!


@amicgood the first #FP-er. The primus inter pares of the #FP game. She and her husband have given a great community the chance to show off their storytelling talents for over a year.

I thank @amicgood every Friday, because #FP was her creation and she shared it with the world. With me. But time changes many things, and it changes circumstances most of all.

@amicgood has had to say goodbye to her part in the Friday Phrases game, to the despair of us all. No more Friday Phrases? (I went all opera at this news, because I hate saying goodbye and I vented my sorrow at the skies in an extremely awful aria. Now that I think about it, I could have been dreaming.) The thought was unthinkable. I hated it. Give up one of the reasons Friday was bearable to me?! Hell no!

Couldn’t do it.

So I offered to take it up in its Eleventh Hour. Friday Phrases, its future, its place in this world. I would make @amicgood’s legacy lived on and on.

Because #FP is what makes Friday, well … Friday! A snippet to suck you in, a story so small and yet so vast, a story that opens so many doors, to so many people’s lives! To so many stories!

On this blog, there’s gonna be #FP day in and day out.

Stories of every kind, poetry, six-word-stories and more! Anyone and everyone can be a part of this! This is not exclusive. Anyone with a story to tell is welcome, writer or not! Just be with people all over the world looking for a bit of the magic that is #FP.

Then hang out! Great things are gonna happen here!

Every week, we will feature a new author, their #FP’s, one of their short stories and an author interview for a whole week to show the world what you’ve got.

We want to hear your story. We want the world to hear it, too.

And then to the dedicated and amazing participants who have been with #FP to this day … you guys have welcomed me to the helm of this ship and you have given me an amazing opportunity to share my love for Friday Phrases.

Thank you. Thank you so much.

And to anyone and everyone out there with a small story to tell …

The same way that I was welcomed to Friday Phrases, we will welcome you. We want to hear your stories! We want to show your stories to the whole wide world!

I’ve made many so friends through Friday Phrases. I’ve met so many great people!

And I can’t wait to meet you.

#FP isn’t just a game. It’s a party.

The virtual coffee is on us.

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