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Flash Fiction

Flash Fiction Five: Ecological Apocalypse

17 July 2018

Image by Ilsa Harun


ALL THE CLI-FI AND END OF THE WORLD YOU CAN FIT IN 100 WORDS AND UNDER

my lungs are mountains

my lungs are mountains
once they were alive
filled with lush vegetation
now, long gone

my lungs are mountains
fire has ripped through
the trees are carcasses
life deceased

my lungs are mountains
heavy smoke lingers
making it impossible
to breathe

BY MILLY MULLER REEVES


PRURITIC PARASITES

He felt them inside his hands and legs, inside his chest, even inside his face. He saw them too, sometimes. Nobody else did. Only him. The miniscule worm-like parasites which had taken his body as their new home. He would never have noticed them had it not been for the unbearable itching. They slipped out of his skin to peak into the atmosphere, he felt them crawling on his skin. It would start itching. Nobody would believe him, even when he grabbed one of them and pulled it out (and caused a wound which had still not healed). Every test he underwent, told him he was normal, with nothing wrong with him. It would still itch.

BY NITUL DESHPANDE


DAY 0: Environmentalists prepare for spending final days in smug fear.

DAY 1: Bank account values: all zero. No regrets though. Bizarrely, bitcoin holds out until day eight.

DAY 2: Alien overlords flee shit-town planet.

DAY 12: Death of 85 per cent of population makes Melbourne housing affordable again.

DAY 25: Last spraycan used up, forcing art to go on hiatus.

DAY 51: Hardcore apocalypse preparadoes disappointed as humanity works together to rebuild and adapt instead of immediately descending into Mad Max-ian helltopian torturescape ruled by violence and cruelty.

DAY 857: Young, hip aliens begin moving to rapidly gentrifying earth.

BY LEWIS LAURENCE


HERE NOW

Smothered as rags of turf
after the creek burst its banks

the clouds were over the warm sky. Their grey breasts
the feathery shadows of idle surfers beyond the break

feeling as I am: that my feet are stakes in the earth
my breath the edge of a chill wind.

BY MICHAEL DAVIES 


BY JESSICA KEEM


SEND US YOUR TINY WORDS: EDITION SIX’S PROMPT IS GALAXIES AND OUTER SPACE.

Send your 100-word-and-under stories of the far reaches of the universe to editors@farragomagazine.com


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