Flash Fictionalz

Why do you do it? Why bother? Why get up? Who is it that depends on you so badly that you actually feel like being alive in this world? Do you even know the answers to these questions? Do you allow yourself to think about them, at least? Have you ever looked up the afternoon sky and witnessed the spectacle that it is the sun bathing a beautifully crafted cloud castle in its magnificent golden light? If so, have you felt how small you are? How inferior your art is if compared to nature's? Assuming you have a relationship with some kind of art, it doesn't matter what you do, or how much you try, or even how genuine your work is... Eventually, one day, whatever it is that you built will be destroyed, and eventually it will also fall into inevitability, and thus be completely forgotten. I'm sorry... But it's true. Nothing lasts forever. Not you, not me, and neither us, nor them. I'm sorry. You may try to defend your petty existence by saying "no", bec...

Olivia thought she heard something while she was watching television. A faint sound, an echo of a thin whispery scratch coming from the kitchen, somewhere near the stove. She didn't mind. It was probably nothing, and much like most strange sounds derivative from old houses, it was likely not to happen again. Except it did. This time, she moved her head sideways and and her eyes away from the telly. She kept still as a statue as if it would magically grant her enhanced hearing skills. It didn't. But she was able to think she had heard the sound once more. A third time, if we are to be more accurate. She stood up and made her way to the kitchen. The crime scene right in front of her showed no signs of a struggle. It was all peaceful and merry, and most importantly, soundless. As Olivia stood there looking for a sign that would point her towards her prey, she only managed to succeed at hearing absolute silence. Her respiration became loud enough that it started to bother her, an...