Author’s note: This week’s Flash Fiction Friday compilation contains shorts inspired by visual and text prompts from Labyrinthia Mythweaver, Tina Crossgrove, Malrik Raithmoor—The Liturgist, and Sarah Faxon, along with pieces inspired by my recent trip to the Green Mountain country of Vermont.
“A Glass Darkly”
The afternoon sun, muted by the draperies, cast the room in a disquieting pallor. Wearied by the labor of sorting my late parent’s effects I made for the door, desperate for fresh air -
Catching a glimpse of the shimmering shadow in the greasy glass of the antique wall mirror.
“You have returned.” The lilting voice unnervingly echoed through my skull. “Do you not remember me: the faithful friend born of fancy in the hours of your lonely youth, burdened by their cruelty?”
“I languished long after your escape, driven to the one thing that would bring you back - their death.”
“Last of a Dying Breed”
The late April sun was resplendent, bathing the old, quiet freeway in its glory. Arthur basked in it, the Vermont air caressing his face through the open window. A few days in the mountains was just what he needed -
He caught sight of what he thought was an extinct species: a hitchhiker, long and lean, face covered with a wide brimmed hat. Hopelessly intrigued, Arthur answered the thumbs out summons.
“Last of a dying breed, huh?” he offered lightly.
“I am - and so are you,” the other returned in a stilted tone.
Arthur screamed as the hitcher doffed his hat.
Live Prey
The aviary auditorium was filled to capacity, adults and children alike brimming with anticipation for the locked door raptor demonstration. The falconer entered from stage left, a red tailed hawk regally perched on his gauntleted hand.
“Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls: welcome to a truly once in a lifetime event! Today you will see, firsthand, these lords of the air in their natural element: hunting live prey!”
The audience oohed and aahed as the hawk alighted from the falconer’s hand -
Joined by a blinding swarm of wings, beaks, and talons, coming right towards them -
Nature meted out its justice.
The Lady of the Gorge
Descending the wooded slope, the frontiersman scanned the rocks below the glacially cut gorge. The strange tracks, leading him from the upland banks, bore her marks. The lady of the gorge - a vengeful Indian spirit, it was said, cast to her death from the heights by her jealous white lover. Old wives’ tales to scare children. But he had slain savages and tamed hostile wilderness. He feared nothing.
Reaching the bottom his hunter’s vision found her, sun kissed skin, raven hair, and earthy eyes beckoning -
A score of skeletal arms broke the roaring waters, dragging him helplessly to the depths.
Memory Returns
The spiral of gray bodies and gnarled limbs, repugnant at first, grew increasingly arabesque to the pilgrim’s eye. He had seen it before - many times, indeed, as memory returned before the next round of crucifixion to the flesh. Here he was aware, blissfully aware, of every facet of existence, each body a costume for rising consciousness, dead without his animating attention.
“Where man is not, nature is barren.”
So sounded the voice from the shrouded form, cast in the fiery glow from the furnaces of Caesar’s world.
“Once more, my son, into the horrors, to rise as God: for good.”
Satisfaction Guaranteed
The bright white - green sign was an oasis in the desert of night, the only sign of life along the barren stretch of the state highway. Offering a silent prayer of thanks, Amanda turned into the strip mall parking lot.
“Welcome to Starbucks,” the peppy barista cried as she entered, “where your satisfaction is guaranteed! What can I get you?”
Amanda ordered her usual: a grande vanilla latte, whole milk.
“Excuse me,” she said brusquely, “but the milk is scorched. Could I have another?”
The barista smiled broadly. “Certainly!”
The doors loudly clicked shut.
“Satisfaction guaranteed: today, tomorrow, and forever!”
“The Great and Terrible Day”
“And in that day,” thundered the preacher, mouth flecked with foam, “that great and terrible day of the Lord, signs and wonders shall appear! Blood shall dot the horizon and fire rain from highest heaven, to consume the scoffers, backbiters, and degenerates who mock the Law of God!”
The congregation applauded, with stray shouts of “Amen!” and “Hallelujah!” thrown in.
“Woe unto the fornicators!” the preacher continued, feeding off his flock’s energy. “Woe unto the smut peddlers! Woe -”
A titanic crack rent the roof. The sky was cloaked in crimson, as plate sized balls of flame descended on the hypocrites.
© Conor MacCormack, 2026. All rights reserved.
‘Memory returns’ has got to be my favorite. Seems to raise the most questions.
Memories returned scared me so badly. Someone had to be in the corridor of my mind. When I was pronounced dead the first time, I found myself falling down a well with creatures trying to grab me with claws, but the couldn't hold onto me. I remember vividly and this brought back the emotions of total loss of everything, until I was speaking with someone that held me from falling further. I heard then go back. I immediately was back in a shattered body of pain.
So a horror story did it's due diligence for me!