The cult section of the literary world

Flash Fiction Friday: No Encore

by D.M. Anderson

Donald sneezed his brain all over the audience, his head emptying like an accordion until there was little left but a pancaked face sitting deflated atop a quivering neck.

The deafening applause of the gore-splattered audience’s adoration thundered into a crescendo that would surely echo across the eons.

He bowed low, his pinwheeling arms pausing for an aggressive flair of jazz hands, his fingers dripping motes of confetti, like crystalline dandelion fluff dancing in the spotlight’s glare.

He had finally done it, his birthright fulfilled, as nobody can deny, and, by golly, was his momma proud as punch.

Tears glistened deep within emptied eyeholes, the floor strewn with ocular detritus as the congregation collectively decided to spork themselves blind. After all, there was nothing left to see.

_________

D.M. Anderson hides inside his hermitage, leaving occasionally to scavenge for food and toiletries. When he isn’t setting a bad example for his kids, he’s mercilessly beating his head against the keyboard, hoping something interesting spills out onto the screen. You can watch to see if something does at Silent Insomniac.

_________

Want in on this? Submit up to three bizarro flash fiction stories at a time, pasted into the body of an email (no attachments) to FlashFictionFridaySubmissions@gmail.com and include a brief bio. Put the title of your submission in the subject line of the email.

One response

  1. I really liked that!

    June 13, 2016 at 2:30 am

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s