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Five stories high doesn’t sound like very much until you’re standing on a plank extended out over a swimming pool so small and so flimsy even toddlers give it a wary eyeball.

“I don’t like this, I don’t like this, I don’t like this,” Cecilia repeated to herself as she took that last step to the end of the board. “No, no, no, crap, crap, this is bad. What am I doing?”

Down below, a couple hundred people sat in the stands around the center platform. Their heads leaned back, gazing at the tiny ballerina balancing precariously above. Cecilia only looked for one person in the crowd.

There! A glimmer of glitter, silver and white, the unmistakable sequins of her friend and guardian angel, Lina. Cecilia couldn’t see her face, but she imagined her as she always was, book of spells on her lap, reading the familiar words.

It was Lina who made Cecilia fly. Lina who made the tiny ballerina a star, so much so that she had become the face on the Glimpton’s Magical Circus Tour poster. “Come see the amazing flying ballerina! No one knows how she does it!”

Cecilia knew and Lina knew, and to both girls, that was enough. Up on her plank, Cecilia took a deep breath and prepared to jump.


Below her, Lina stared up at the tiny ballerina, too, the spellbook closed in her lap. She knew—should’ve known—that her little trick to help the shy new girl with her act would come back to bite her. Kindness doesn’t get your face on a poster.

Lina shook her head to herself. It always ended up like this. She would try to help, someone would steal the show, and then she would be forced to stop helping. No one learns by having their hand held, she scolded herself again. She has to learn to do it on her own or not at all.


Cecilia hesitated on the jump. She didn’t feel the usual lightness that surrounded her when she dove—usually, by now, she felt like a feather. She would jump, dive toward the pool, and then skim the water and come up into a loop. Everyone would cheer.

“No, no, that’s silly. Lina’s never let me down.”

With one deep breath, she left the platform. The familiar hush of anticipation fell over the crowd, every eye focused on her, enraptured by the tiny ballerina who could fly. Lina, too, watched Cecilia, her face registering something between disinterest and impatience, as if she couldn’t quite get the energy to roll her eyes.

For a moment, Cecilia plunged straight down. The free fall felt familiar and as freeing as it had ever been. She loved these terrifying moments: the flutter in her chest, the rush in her head. Everything wonderful happened in the split second between platform and pool.

Near the end of the dive, she started to pull up like she always did. Nearby, Lina leaned forward, disinterest replaced with shock: Could she actually—?

“NOOO—!”

The entire crowd heard the thud of her skull, the almost musical crack of her spine, and the scream that died with her.
Cecilia Flies
For Flash-Fic-Month Day 10. I did the challenge even though I'm a week late just for fun, and it was: 527.5 words long and include the circus as an integral part of the story. 
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“There,” Philip said, and stuck the tip of the pick axe in the dirt.

“Are you done? Took long enough.”

“Oh, pipe down, Mack, I did what I needed to do.”

“All you had to do was kill him, dude, I think this is a little excessive.”

The younger man turned his head as Philip kicked body parts into three separate holes, then picked up the hoe and helped fill them without looking.

“Well, I can’t sleep at night if I know somebody I killed could come back.”

Mack stopped the hoe and looked up at Philip in shock. “You mean, you do this because you’re afraid of…of zombies?”

“It’s not likely, but the fact is, it could happen. Not gonna take my chances. When you’ve killed as many people as I have, kid, you have to find some way to deal with the ghosts in your head.”

“All right, whatever, but I really hate your coping skills.”
Deal With It
Catching up on the week I missed! This is for Flash-Fic-Month Day 9, using the prompt: "I hate your coping mechanisms." 
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Sometimes I wake up in the morning, blink against the blue light coming in the window, and forget for just a second that the rest of the world is dead.

When I was a kid, I read stories about how some of the best inventions and discoveries resulted from accidents. “Happy accidents,” my mom called them. I grew up hoping that one day I would be a scientist, and “accident” into something incredible. I achieved my goal—I’m not unhappy and it was something incredible.


Three months ago, I walked into my lab like I do every day, coffee in one hand, cell phone in the other, ready to work. An hour later, the entire lab went up in a puff of green smoke. I managed to make it to my safety bunker before the explosion went off, but by the time it was safe to emerge, the damage had been done.

I stayed in the bunker a month, waiting for my detector to tell me that it was safe to exit. When it still hadn’t gone off after a month and my food supplies were running low, I decided to take my chances and leave.

Everything outside looked as it ever had. My lab, except for the original explosion point, looked untouched. I could see cars in the parking lot outside.

The eeriness hit me when I stepped outside and realized everything was completely silent. No birds chirping, no cars running, no machine noises—nothing. Eventually I realized that I was the only human being left, at least within any discernable area.

That day, when I spilled my coffee into the solution I was working on, I accidentally caused the apocalypse.

Whoops.
Happy Accidents
Catching up on Flash-Fic-Month, this is for the Day 8 Challenge, "It's the end of the world as we know it." 
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My submissions are a little less than timely, but here you have it anyway!

It's never too late to jump on the Flash Fiction Month bandwagon; if you want to get on board, go check out Flash-Fic-Month and get crackin'.

Week 1
Peacekeepers
Helper
Boom
Permanent Relocation
Becoming a Man
Chupa
Strangers
Lauren laid on her bed, scrolling through stories on some paranormal website her sister raved about. Standard fare, really—ghosts, demons, nearly-there-but-not-quite photos, clearly faked photos, curses, unexplained deaths—nothing to make Lauren so much as lift an eyebrow.

She clicked on one story labeled “The Stranger” and skimmed through it. “Yada, yada, cursed because she was unbearably nasty, morality tale, etcetera, etcetera,” she said as she glanced through it, then closed her laptop with a sharp click.

Sighing, Lauren slid off the bed and grabbed her coat, heading down stairs and out the door. Seriously, rotting her brain believing that crap, she thought, and pulled her coat closer to fend off the chilly drizzle.

Five blocks to their favorite ice cream place; she met her sister there every week, and she hated it. She would have to pass at least three homeless people only to listen to her sister talk for an hour. At least she could get that big mint chocolate chip cone and tune out.

She didn’t even see the old woman sitting on the steps two blocks away until she heard a raspy voice, “Excuse me! Do you have any change? I just want some food, please?”

Here we go, Lauren thought, life choices, lady, life choices. With a disgusted glance, she replied, “I wouldn’t give it to you if I had it.”

The old woman narrowed her eyes, but Lauren was already on her way again. She did hear the woman say, “That’ll cost you, girl,” but rolled her eyes and kept walking.

One block from the Stevie’s Ice Cream, Lauren noticed a heaviness in her legs, as if they were slowly filling with lead. Every step required effort and concentration, especially when her arms started to feel the same way.

Sweat broke out on her forehead and she knew she must look ridiculous, but it took everything she had to pick up her foot and put it down, and after a few steps, she couldn’t move them at all.

She swung her head around in every direction, her heart racing as she looked for someone—anyone—to help her. Out of the corner of her eye, she thought she saw the old woman from the step. “Please, please help me!” she called out, but when she turned and looked, there was no one there.

“HELP, PLEASE HELP!” she yelled as loud as she could, but no one came.

When her sister couldn’t find her at Stevie’s, she started walking toward Lauren’s apartment. She found her a block away, a solid statue, eyes frozen wide in terror, mouth stretched in an unheard scream. A sign hung around her neck that read: “NEVER BE MEAN TO A STRANGER.”
Strangers
For Flash-Fic-Month Day 7, from the prompt: "I couldn't believe it, the internet was right" by cjpolodo and inspired by this post (thanks Google): Never Be Mean to a Stranger
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ninjababy
The Internet Calls Me Amber
Artist | Hobbyist | Literature
United States
I'm a 29-year-old part-time web content writer and blogger and the mom of two awesome kids, a 9-year-old math whiz daughter and a 5-year-old silly cuddlebug son.
Interests
My submissions are a little less than timely, but here you have it anyway!

It's never too late to jump on the Flash Fiction Month bandwagon; if you want to get on board, go check out Flash-Fic-Month and get crackin'.

Week 1
Peacekeepers
Helper
Boom
Permanent Relocation
Becoming a Man
Chupa
Strangers

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:iconsilverinkblot:
SilverInkblot Featured By Owner May 31, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
Thank you for faving Zero is not a size. :)
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:iconblackbowfin:
BlackBowfin Featured By Owner May 19, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
Hello there and many thanks for faving Placeholder.  Tis much appreciated.  Have a great night.  :)
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:iconninjababy:
ninjababy Featured By Owner May 20, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
My pleasure; you too! :D
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:iconpaperdart:
PaperDart Featured By Owner May 14, 2014   Writer
Thanks for the :+fav:! Glad to see you're still around. :)

If it's not too creepy, tell your 9-year-old math whiz daughter that a physicist you know on the internet says maths only gets more awesome and she should keep it up. ;) (I would've loved to make contact with a real live mathematician when I was her age, so I'm throwing it out there.)
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:iconninjababy:
ninjababy Featured By Owner May 16, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
Yeah, trying to get back into writing. I wrote web content for a job for a while, and it kind of sucked the desire to write out of me. :hmm:

I will tell her! She loves to hear about grown-up people doing the things she likes. I've never seen someone soak up math the way she does. She's in 3rd grade, and they're having to teach her extra because she's already blown past all of their planned content. 

Right now, she wants to grow up to be an engineer. I told her just to worry about school for now and we'll get there. ;P
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CraftyCACecil Featured By Owner May 13, 2014  Hobbyist General Artist
Thank you for faving Exorcism. I appreciate it! =D You can also see my work on Facebook at facebook.com/craftycacecil.
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:iconsilverinkblot:
SilverInkblot Featured By Owner May 12, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
Thanks for faving Old Souls :heart:
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:iconninjababy:
ninjababy Featured By Owner May 13, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
My pleasure! :-D
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91816119 Featured By Owner Apr 30, 2014   Writer
Thank you so much! :heart:
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camelopardalisinblue Featured By Owner Oct 19, 2013  Hobbyist General Artist
Thank you for the feature-fav! I appreciate the support. :D
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