ALL GOOD THINGS MUST END

And so here we are, July 31st, and the Second Annual Flash Fiction Month has come to a close. What an epic journey! What stupendous effort! What an astounding wealth of fiction!

There are just SO many people to thank, for all their efforts, support, donations, reading, cheering, chatting, writing…

From the team at Flash-Fic-Month, THANK YOU ALL.


And a HUGE SPECIAL THANKS to all our chat volunteers who helped keep #flashfictionmonth a fun and productive place to be.

Special thanks to BeccaJS for all her help in getting us rolling this year!

edzull and salshep might be the instigators of these FFM shenanigans, but it’s YOU GUYS who made this event the roaring success that it was. We hope you’re darned proud of yourselves, whether you wrote three stories or thirty-one.

For those who are, incredibly, still not aware of FFM here’s a few links that’ll fill you in:

The FFM FAQ FTW!

- all you could ever want to know, without bugging us with questions.

The FFM Gallery of Total Flash Fiction Awesomesauce

- hundreds of dA’s finest Very Short Stories. Give yourself a literary thrill - clickety click!

FFM’s Most Excellent Prompt Bank 2010

- even if you're not a participant, we hope you find something useful here!

And here’s where all the COOL KIDS hang out.

- fantastic turnout this year - and 2011 will be EVEN BIGGER!


*Make sure to read ALL THE WAY DOWN to the end of this article for some more really exciting news to come! But first:


QUESTION TIME!

Now, before we get to the winners of our final Challenge prize and other goodies, we’d like to take a moment to ask our lovely participants a few questions. It’d be great favour if you’d take a few moments to answer them in the comments below.

Did you have a good time OR WHAT?
Please leave a few words about your FFM experience!

Have you any suggestions as to how we might improve FFM on dA next year?
C'mon, we know you have some!

Are you planning on joining us for FFM 2011?
YES YOU ARE! NO EXCUSES!



FFM WEEK FOUR CHALLENGE WINNERS

Yes, that’s right – winners, plural! We just COULD NOT choose between our top two challenge entries this week, so we’re handing out FFM mugs to:


angeljunkie, for these three wonderful stories:


and,

Wolfrug, who has made a huge impression on us, overall, this month:
GroundNet - FFM 2010They all laughed when I first unveiled the robot. I don't like it when people laugh at me, but my therapist had told me to control my 'irrational outbursts', so I did.
"Behold, the MT-1000." I said into the microphone once the laughter had died down. "The first military version of the Mobile Turret. John, if you please?"
The bipedal robot rose to its full height with a pneumatic hiss, towering over the crowd of military officials and money-pushers, each garnished with more medals than the last. It walked out onto the firing range, its titanium alloy legs lifting and lowering with mechanic precision.
I noticed one of the generals pointing a finger at the admittedly high-profile robot, and mouthing a 'pow', before laughing at some joke made by the admiral sitting next to him. Well, I'd show them.
"John, feel free to start the trials."
The robot settled into firing position, turning into a low lump on the landscape, its legs bracing behind it. The twin turrets started scanning, and every Ne Regrette Rien - FFM 2010Two weeks before my 32nd birthday, the woman of my life left me to become a circus artist. That, at least, is what I later found out. One week ago I got a message from her saying she had made a terrible mistake. It was very uncharacteristic of her, but my heart sang. However, when I called, she wouldn't pick up. When I texted or e-mailed, she wouldn't answer. Janice and her damned pride.
My birthday party was the worst ever. My friends, those that remained, decided to put up with a giant congratulations-on-your-newfound-bachelorhood-cum-birthday party, but I just wasn't in the mood. What more, although the booze came through, the cake never did. Some catering. Everyone went around muttering about that too, which annoyed me to no end – it was just a stupid cake. Finally someone let out that they'd hired a stripper in the cake.
A stripper in the cake. Two weeks, and I'm suddenly reduced to a walking stereotype. I escaped the party, read and reread her message, not understanding what Modern Medieval - FFM 2010Conflict
Brian lost two more teeth in that fight – I should know, I counted every last molar just before I wiped that grin off his face.
"Leave my turf, and my girl, alone, you piece of shit." I spat at his bleeding form, whining for mercy.
That's when the foreign faces of his boys rounded the corner, summoned by their hero's plaintive cries. I legged it, double time.
Death Struggle
I should have finished that motherfucker. Brian's boys caught up with me, swarthy-faced bastards. Knives, chains, kicks, the works. I returned in kind, but there's only so much you can do before your body fails you. They would've killed me, too, but I wasn't alone.
"They took Rowena to Reggie's pad." Robbie panted heavily.
Now it was war. Those fucking immigrants think they can run things around here.
Recognition
Reggie's place was in flames, most of Brian's boys dead or down, my girl safe. Sure, the ones who got away were going to go tell their friends. Sure, the battle was won bu

Congrats to you both – your FFM mugs will be delivered by hot-air balloon, or some really tired carrier pigeons, depending on our budget after the keg/bikini/toga  party at the FFM office, later.



Honourable Mentions


As ever, our choices were made difficult by the sheer overall quality of writing you guys produced. Below are the challenge entry stories that really stood out to us this week:


FFM 22: Epic BattleThe mercs had prepared for nearly anything, armed to the teeth with all manner of firearms and bedecked in Kevlar. No one had anticipated Chuck Norris.  Dodging gunfire, Norris dispatched wave after wave of hired trigger-fingers with roundhouse kicks and his bare fists.  Snatching a grenade out of the air, he took a bite and tossed it back.
Within moments, he stood alone in a room painted red, barely breathing hard.
Before him, a door creaked open, revealing the true villain.  Norris's eyes narrowed, for the first time setting upon a force that could rival his own.
"GaGa," he hissed.
~ by distortified

07-27-10Beginning. Green wrapped and blued eyed. Perfect fits and the start of possibilities.
Spring. The grasshoppers used to invite her to the back yard. Pigtails and yellow flip-flops – eyes alight with green from the garden, she plays alone.
Summer. Lemonade pit stops and tidal waves of watermelon rinds. Running from one scant shade to another to search for the perfect pear.
Fall. Across the golden rust that crunches underfoot, behind the shedding tree and around the back of the house, dodges the rake and into the pile with all the grace of a practiced swimmer.
Winter. Indoors, nose pressed to the glass with hot cocoa forgotten, and delighted exclamations – "It's so white, Momma. Look!" A world of warmth contained in one small joy.  
January. The breaking of new frost and nudging of new buds. Anxious prances and steady reading of official lines. Friends jump together on beds made of dreams.
February. Parties she flitters to: celebrations and times of. Love-lusted and no
~ by Puckpup

LighthouseAudrey Hepburn and I were dancing to Moon River in the lantern room at 8am.  Darling Henry came in and told us to turn down that infernal racket as he was trying to work.  Poor Henry, he has always been so self-deprecating.  Audrey fluttered her eyelashes at him in the way she does, and five minutes later he was doing one of his goofy little dances to 'Baby Elephant walk'.  Audrey joined in, and I was so puffed I had to sit down and watch them both.  I had to leave them to it in the end.  They never seem to age, while I'm not getting any younger. I went down the winding stairs to feed the ducks.  I should get a stairlift or something.  Wouldn't that be something, a stairlift in a lighthouse?
I counted the ducks out of the door, as I do every morning.  Twenty six ducks emerged blinking one by one from the lighthouse and plop! off the rocks and into the clear waters of the lake.  Every eve
~ by fyoot

Mature Content

~ by TKek

Too Good to MissWilliam Halcyon is frankly the most intimidating man I have ever seen in my life. Large, ruddy faced and waistcoated, he looks like a mill owner who's accidentally stumbled out of the 1890s and into the world of publishing.
Although now that I think about it, that would hardly be the strangest of things to have happened over the last few years.
At the moment, as I'm sitting in front of his desk, nervously eyeing the well thumbed copy of my manuscript that's sitting on his desk, he's leaning against the window, pipe in one hand, telephone in the other, trying his hardest to keep his temper.
"Listen Mr. Verne," he says, teeth gritted so hard they look in danger of splintering. "I don't care how many other so called 'masterpieces' you've written, nobody wants to read a story called 'Around the World for Eighty Brains'." He sighs heavily, his face becoming more and more like a beetroot with every second, "Look, firstly, there isn't the market for it! Secondly, the title isn't very snappy!"
~ by Nicktroptopolis

Like an EaselLike an easel she waits for Kirsten to fill her with ideas and make her something new. She is blank now, she has always been blank until Kirsten arrived. Kirsten is full of images that have not been expressed; she carries thousands of realities that taste like grapes and cinnamon, just like Kirsten does. It is only by fate that she has met Raven and telepathically communicated the first of the images. In a smile Raven sees nights on the beach watching the moon rise over Pont Champlain, a heart-breaking juxtaposition of the modern and the classical. And suddenly they are in conversation, suddenly Kirsten's arms embrace Raven, suddenly they are kissing. In a flash, a Big Bang of passion Raven sees there are not thousands of images but millions, billions, trillions of images stamped with Kirsten. After they exchange numbers Raven feels the acrylic paint upon her like a layer of liquid armor – she is colored inside and out, bold and impressionistic and signed by a creative genius. She
~ by bleusman

And thanks so much for all the great reading, everyone!


A Very Special Thankyou Indeed


FFM would like to thank ALL the people who kindly donated ideas to this year’s prompt bank. We really appreciated all your efforts, every single one. They’ve been invaluable to our writers this year, and we hope you’ll come back in 2011 to help us out again.

We also used a lot of lovely visual prompts, and would here like to display all of the works we chose to inspire our readers this year. Many thanks to all these talented people, for being talented:


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AND SO ENDS FLASH FICTION MONTH 2010


But wait… there’s more!


Yes, the team at FFM are hosting August’s FFM CRIT MONTH.

So all you participants and crit monsters better watch for our news on August 1 concerning this chillaxin fun and only slightly painful follow-up event, designed to help our writers polish up their works for publication.

Psssst!: we hear tell TheSkaBoss has invented an outrageously useful random dev generator, just for this event!


Flash-Fic-Month, over and out!