Touch, Color

248 words to create a character, as per Chuck Wendig’s most recent Flash Fiction Challenge.


They quarantined me when I turned someone purple. Then they started paying me. I could try to explain it, but that would require knowing the first damned thing about it.

It just started one day in a most indelicate position. Mid-coitus, if you prefer a polite term. I tend not to. When you can’t even touch yourself without becoming cerulean blue or neon pink, you kind of stop giving a shit about social nicety.

They flew me to Hollywood first, and I can’t even tell you how many rainbow dogs are running around now.

Once Paris got wind the fashion industry just about shackled me to the runway. Oh, they paid well for their dazzling dresses and wild lavender hairdos, but I don’t even know how many bottles of hand sanitizer I go through in a day. They cart it around in a suitcase, and even though it dries quickly my hands always look splotched with paint.

I get to touch a lot of beautiful people, though.

Scientists have poked me, prodded me, biopsies. You name it and they’ve done it. All the equipment is in a lab somewhere, untouched. Turns out people aren’t too fond of a CAT Scan machine that’s blood red inside and out.

I don’t know. It has its upsides. Coloring Easter eggs has never been easier. I’ll never have to work again with the obscene millions they pay to be yellow, orange, midnight blue.

But no one wants to sleep with a freak.

Little Sister

Well, how about this? Something a little unexpected from the blog’s usual schedule, some of that tasty fiction writing I’ve been harping about all year long.

Another flash fiction challenge from over yonder on Chuck Wendig’s blog, the Random Song Title Challenge, in which we get a random song from some kind of playlist somewhere, and run with that song title as the title of a story.

I did the random thing, and Shuffled through my collection of 20,000 MP3s for a few minutes until I hit Jewel’s “Little Sister”. And this is what came up. Hope you enjoy.


Little Sister

by Rick Cook Jr.

He would often watch the girls on the playground, remembering his little sister, missing her.

She is on the park bench next to him, often is on days like this. Continue reading

The Terminator [1,100 words]

Fair warning, this is less a story and more a narrative. An angry, cursing, rambling, narrative about drinking and fighting. Seriously, lots of swearing. It’s also for Chuck Wendig’s Flash Fiction Challenge of the week A Drink with a Story, A Story with a Drink.

The Terminator

by Rick Cook Jr

I’ve never been able to fight, let’s just get that out of the way right now. The number of times I’ve curled up into a ball to avoid the worst of the kicks is equal to the number of times I’ve gotten into a fight.

I tried to learn karate, or… judo, or something. I don’t know. It was hard. The sensei or whatever was a real dick. I quit and then took a piss in his gas tank. Well, I tried. Just ended up with a kidney punch and piss all over my karate outfit. Continue reading

The First Line Was The Last [890 words][nsfw-drugs]

This short story is posted in Fiction, Short Stories, and Writing Prompts.


The First Line Was The Last

by Rick Cook Jr

Once upon a time, there was a story so short, it was only a single line. That line danced up the straw into my nose, a churning whirlwind of promise. I leaned back, snorting and coughing, holding my nose shut against the tingling urge to sneeze all that powder back out. Everyone around me laughed as I started to sniff. I didn’t feel anything different, except a pleasant numbing sensation. It tasted funny, in the back of my throat. Continue reading

The World Ended and I Still Need Condoms [1153 words]

This story is posted in Fiction, Short Stories, and Writing Prompts.


This is another short story prompted from Chuck Wendig’s weekly challenges, this time it was called “ABC meets XYZ“. It was fun but incredibly difficult!

Content warning: There are some graphic descriptions of violence, PG-13 language, and sexual discussion if not description. You’ve been warned.

The World Ended and I Still Need Condoms

by Rick Cook Jr

The first time I felt truly alive was the moment after I was almost meat, for the first time. I’ve been almost meat more times than I’ve had sex, and I’ve done both a lot. That’s not bragging, it’s just simple truth.

And the sex after the apocalypse is some of the best I’ve ever had. You don’t know release like “Oh my God we escaped the zombies today” sexual release. I’m sorry, but you just don’t. Continue reading

ShortStories: St. John’s Scorpions [1160 words]

Here’s a new short story, another flash fiction entry in Chuck Wendig’s weekly writing challenge. This week’s is titled Choose Your Random Words.


The Ruins of St. John’s Basilica taken from Wikipedia with permission if not consent.

Picture is © José Luiz Bernardes Ribeiro


Nevermind about the legs.

© Laura Wilson

St. John’s Scorpions

by Rick Cook Jr

The bass rumbled to life and the ground began to dance. Scorpions skittered every which way, coming out from under rocks and bricks, a hundred glowing devil bugs making Jason wish he’d said no to the pot. Continue reading