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August Flash Fiction: Day 11

August Flash Fiction: Day 11

Let's have some fun as we get ready to usher in the weekend!
This is going to be one of the higher word caps, mostly because I think this picture is so fun, so ripe for interesting storytelling.
As always, a cap is a cap, and your story can stay as small as you would like, or fill it to fill the capacity of the word count! Whatever works best for you.

Each day a new post with a picture (with a CC0 license), word count limit, and occasional additional twist will be published at 7:00 am EDT. You will then have until the next day's post to write your story.

You can then either keep it to yourself (a perfectly valid way to participate!) or you can share your story itself in the comments, or share a link in the comments where we can read your story (blog, Instagram etc.)
My daily story will be added to the post under the picture within the same deadline. 

Aug. 11 Word Limit: 600
Aug. 11 Image Prompt:

Happy
376 words

“You have arrived at your destination,” the mechanized female voice announces, bringing an air of ambivalence to an otherwise stomach-churning experience.

You exit the machine that delivered you here, your stomach rising and dropping once more as your feet stand on solid ground, as though contact with this familiar gravity has flipped your personal polarizations again.

The machine departs and you stare up at the the clocks. Rows and rows of clocks, standing at equal heights, made of the same materials, reading the same exact time, on and on until the clocks are swallowed by the encroaching trees. You wonder where the trees came from. You don’t know where the clocks come from, but you assumed a certain phenomenal explanation that would forever be too fantastical to understand. But perhaps they are every bit as simple, and as complicated, as trees.

You do not have permission to be here. You are in fact, shocked, that you managed to gain entry to this space, to the spot where you might determine how to fix things.

These are your dreams both fruitful and broken.
More accurately these are your choices, so many of them wrong in hindsight, where your path in life, split, and split again depositing you someplace you don’t believe you belong. If you had shaken that hand, accepted that help, offered that key piece of insight you kept to yourself, if you had left the city, said those four words, thrown that paper away, the list goes on and on.

But here, somewhere, is your door to that proverbial path not taken. You no longer need the albatross of regret.

Sure, you don’t understand the specifics of it all, how to tap into one of these other lives, but you’ve made it this far. You’re more intrepid than you once believed.
You just need to find the clock that leads to the best life.

So you stop and look into the world of the first clock, it’s not quite what you hoped for. Then you try the one two paces to the right, but you’re not as happy as you could be, so you try another, then another, and another, and another, and another, and another and another…
And in the searching, you never leave.

 

August Flash Fiction: Day 12

August Flash Fiction: Day 12

August Flash Fiction: Day 10

August Flash Fiction: Day 10