Longer than the microfiction, but still not long enough to warrant an entire page (in most cases). All prompts associated with them will be noted at the beginning. Newest additions will be added at the top.

An Unsigned Note
“The Survival Chronicles” tie-in. Set between “Say ‘No!’ to Zombies” and “Don’t Feed the Trolls”.

Dust in the Wind
Saying goodbye is never easy.

Hands At the 10 and 2 Position, Please.
Someone is distracted behind the wheel of a car.

Lonely Roads
If you could choose where you were going to die, where would you pick?
**TW: Heavily implied unconventional assisted suicide.**

Making Tracks
If you’re lucky, it’ll kill you last.

The Seeker
When you want an answer bad enough, nothing will stop you.

Tunnel Vision
Etlan tie-in. Consider it a preview into a world I haven’t shared yet.

It’s time for this week’s #PhotoStoryPrompt! Write the start or part of a story based on the image below. One rule: you must reference a person’s hand and a clock, and end with the word “safe.” Full rules below ⬇️. #WriteFightGifClub #amwriting #writingprompt #flashfiction pic.twitter.com/EWwb24Wixy

— Radina Valova (@RadinaValova) April 12, 2018

Dear whoever finds this,

See the giant “HOPE” carved into the wall? And the directions underneath? Get something to write them down on/with. There’s a bunch of pens and pencils in the desk underneath the clock. There should be a pad of post-its, too. Those should work. If they’re all gone, improvise. That “Hope” place might be the last safe haven from the monsters we share our world with now. I dunno about you, but I’m willing to risk the journey, if it means not being dinner for those things.

Plus, the lady, I forget her name, but anyway, she fixed up Tobe’s hand. He cut the hell out it trying to get the door to this place open, and she stitched it up and gave us all tetanus shots. Said we couldn’t be too careful, and there’s too much that can go wrong from one day to another. They can’t give us a vaccine against the virus, but they can help make sure we don’t die over stupid stuff that can be prevented.

Crap, I got off track…okay, back up, the point is, the lady had a bunch of medical supplies. I saw them. Food, too. Not the stale crap we’ve been living off of for the past couple months, either. Fresh cheese. Beef jerky – not store bought. They said there’s more food and supplies back at base. There’s even a hospital. All we have to do when (if) we get there is be willing to work. At this point, it’s worth a shot, you know? They left this morning. We’ve sat and talked about it most of the day. We leave at dawn.

Wish us luck, whoever finds this. And if do decide to follow our footsteps, remember to keep a careful eye out. Look sharp – stay safe.

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It’s #PhotoStoryPrompt time! Write the start or part of a story based on the image below. One rule: someone has to be doing something they shouldn’t while driving, and you must use the words “lies will get you nowhere.” Guidelines below ⬇️. #WriteFightGifClub #writingprompt pic.twitter.com/jkWLc4JxV7

— Radina Valova (@RadinaValova) May 10, 2018

“I’m just saying, it wasn’t a good idea,” Josh tried again. “Those pants and that shirt? No. Just, no.” He glanced over as a car passed them. The woman driving had one hand on the wheel and the other… “Seriously?” Josh muttered.

“What’s wrong?” Amy took her eyes off the road long enough to give him a questioning look.

“That woman.” He waved a hand at the car pulling off onto the exit ramp, disgust clear on his face.

“What about her?”

“Let’s just put it this way: she was not paying attention to the road.” He glared when Amy just laughed. “It’s disgusting! What if that’s a rental car? She’s getting her…stuff…all over the gear shift!”

“Like you haven’t done something like that behind the wheel of a car,” Amy said, still snickering.

“I haven’t!”

“Mmhmm. Lies will get you nowhere, little man, and I know all about you and Ryan.”

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It’s time for this week’s #PhotoStoryPompt! Write the start or part of a story based on the image below. One rule: it must include the word “deafening.” Full rules below ⬇️. #amwriting #flashfiction #writingprompt #WriteFightGifClub pic.twitter.com/K5SvTvUiUW

— Radina Valova (@RadinaValova) April 26, 2018

After the near deafening roar of the mack truck, the silence of the dusty desert road was a blessing. A ramshackle old house stood against a backdrop of the mountains in the distance. Somewhere between the house and the mountains, a dust storm had brewed.

I pulled the hood of my jacket up, and tied the bandana over my mouth and nose a little tighter. If what the lady at the bar told me is true, the answers I seek are in that little old house, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to let a bunch of dust and wind get in my way of uncovering the truth.

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Tunnel Vision

“Are you sure this is the right place, choti bahana?” Sarika Surya asked. “I’m not sensing anyone.”

Ash turned her attention away from her scrying plate to watch her sister twirl a makeshift staff around her body. Two hours ago, it had been a shovel. (“For disguise purposes,” Sarika had claimed.) Twenty minutes later, the wood had abruptly cracked, dropping the head to the ground behind them as they walked on.

“I’m positive.” Ash sent her vision higher. At the edge of her Sight, the city loomed, neon lights bright against the dark of the surrounding buildings – she could almost hear the honking of cars and chatter of people. Where she and her sister were though, huddled in the dark of the tunnel, all she could see was treetops and the road – empty for miles in both directions.

“I don’t get it.” Her shoulders slumped. “I followed the directions exactly. This is the tunnel the Healer is supposed to be at. It has to be.” She dissolved the thin sheet of ice she was using as a scry plate, letting the ice melt and reform around her wrists as bracelets. “Why isn’t she here?”

“Maybe we were too late?” Sarika threw her makeshift staff into the woods. “It did take us a while to find this place.”

“The man said she would leave a sign if she arrived before us and had to leave.” Ash gestured at the walls around them. “There’s nothing here.” She shook her head. “Something’s happened to her, I know it.”


Ash closed her eyes, and turned her focus inward, searching. “I don’t know,” she said, finally. “I can’t tell if it’s that, or just basic instinct. But there is something off around here.” She opened her eyes again, walking to the mouth of the tunnel. A cool puff of wind twined around her neck, ruffling the choppy edges of her hair at the back of her neck. She lifted her hand, trailing her fingers through the current of air as it passed by, and frowning when she felt the way it suddenly shifted. Instead of continuing on its path, it turned back, curling around her like a child in need of comfort. “What-?” Behind her, she heard Sarika’s footsteps as she moved closer. Pushing the sound away, Ash concentrated on the quicksilver flashes of emotion the wind buffeted her with. Anger, distress, fear…so much fear. And underneath it all, sorrow. She bowed her head.

Choti bahana?

Ash looked over her shoulder at Sarika. “We only checked the forest for the living.”

Sarika stared back at her for a moment, face blank. Then she lunged.

Ash didn’t fight as she felt her sister’s fingers dig into her shoulder. The familiar sensation of being pulled through a tunnel of air surrounded her, and then she was stumbling, tripping after Sarika out of an alley and down the stairs of a nearby subway station. As she caught up, she heard her sister muttering under her breath, curses in English spattered throughout their native Hindi.

Bright purple petunias poked up between the cracks in the sidewalk as they passed.

(Thanks for the Hindi translation, Alex!)

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It’s time for #PhotoStoryChallenge! Write the start or part of a story based on the image below. One rule: someone has to be running from something and you must use the words “put it down.” Optional challenge: write it as a screenplay. #WriteFightGifClub #writingprompt #amwriting pic.twitter.com/gKI22kcGcr

— Radina Valova (@RadinaValova) March 29, 2018

They told me to put it down. So I did. Now I watched as the train rumbled down the track, taking them – and it – further away from me. I wonder: did it ever occur to them that I was holding onto it for their sake? Oh well. They’ll figure it out soon enough. In the meantime…

I buy another ticket, slipping onto the next train going the other way. The more distance between that….thing…and me, the better.

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It’s #PhotoStoryChallenge time! Write the start or part of a story based on the image below. One rule: your story must revolve around the theme of carrying a burden or a treasure. Optional challenge: write it as a screenplay. #writingprompt #amwriting #WriteFightGifClub pic.twitter.com/aJeKWfQwJ8

— Radina Valova (@RadinaValova) March 22, 2018

Jacob stopped and tugged the snow goggles off his face. After a week of planning, two days of traveling, and twelve hours hiking, the small box in his backpack getting heavier with ever step, he had finally reached his destination. Swinging the rucksack around to his front, he dug out the box, tracing the lines of his mother’s name carved into the side. His thumb caught the metal latch, and the box opened.

It was time to say goodbye.

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It’s #PhotoStoryChallenge time! Write the opening or part of a story based on the image below. One rule: your story *must* begin with the word “no” and end with the word “road.” Optional, for the screenwriters out there: write it as a snippet of a screenplay. #WriteFightGifClub pic.twitter.com/yJtxNONUxj

— Radina Valova (@RadinaValova) March 1, 2018

Photo by Radina Valova



“Oh, I’m sorry, have you forgotten how to English? Here: nein, nyet, non, iie, bu. Are those any better?”

I looked at Sarah, sitting so prim and proper on the broken-down doorstep of a former roadside shop, and sighed. “Fine.” I dropped down to sit next to her and instantly regretted it as my ass informed me that it had found a multitude of rusty nails and sharp pebbles. I grimaced but ignored the pinpricks of pain to focus on the more important pain in the ass. “If not here, then where?”

“I don’t know,” Sarah kicked at the ground, sending a plume of dust into the air. “Anywhere.”

“Anywhere, but here.”

She shrugged.

The customer is always right.’ I reminded myself. Leaning back on my hands, I stared up at the jagged hills lining the road. They tried so hard to look like mountains, but all I could see was a bunch of try-hards and failed wannabes. I sighed again and stood up.

“Alright. You win. We’ll try somewhere else.” I shook my head at the grateful smile she sent my way, and headed back to my rental car. I could hear her footsteps as she scrambled to catch up with me. I waited until she was in her own car before pulling off the shoulder, leading her further into the countryside.

I suppose, if I was going to pick a place to die, I, too, could think of better places to be killed than on this lonely road.

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