In the Group Flash Fiction Workshops, we write a complete story as a group in a limited time. Author Matthew Barron only serves as a guide and typist while the group determines everything else. Nothing is off limits as long as it is age-appropriate for all the participants of that particular session.

 



Outside the Box
10:30 am December 7, 2017
I had so much fun doing the Group Flash Fiction Workshop at Outside the Box. Outside the Box serves individuals with intellectual and developmental disabilities in Indianapolis. They only had one hour to write a complete story, and I was amazed at how much they got done in such a short time. I was impressed with the participant's enthusiasm and fun ideas. One of the hardest things when writing a story so quickly is putting in twists and turns. These writers did it like it was the most natural thing in the world. Most of them decided to use aliases when writing and you may recognize some of the names they chose.

Cait’S Bad Day

by

Tiff, Ms. Fashion, Joseph, Batman, Jeff, Tomas, Jarrid, Paul P., Wonder Woman, Evan, Master Jedi Yoda, Subzero, God-Ian, Spider Man, ZZ, Cait Egerton, and Jeff, guided by Matthew Barron



Cait holds her hoodie tight against her body, cursing that she didn’t have time to grab her coat. She wipes her head, and her hand comes away black with soot. At least she has good snow-boots, but she still nearly slips as she makes her way home from the daycare where she works.

All she can think about is getting home to her mom and stepdad before the cops catch up to her.

A scrawny dog barks as she walks by the graffitied walls, but otherwise the neighborhood is strangely quiet. She ignores the dog and continues on, trying to make her way home. She knows the cops will not understand why she had to burn the place down.

The barking suddenly stops. She looks behind her, and the dog is gone. Where did it go?

She holds out her phone and takes a selfie, then sends it to her mom with the caption, “Don’t open the door for anyone but me. I’ll explain when I make it home… If I make it home. I love you.”

The snow crunches in the alley, so quietly that she would normally not hear it but the neighborhood is eerily silent. She crosses the street, keeping her eye on the alley, but slips and falls in the middle of the road. A shadow grows on the brick wall, the giant silhouette of a man.

She smiles when she recognizes the face. “Jimbo!” she exclaims. “You made it out!”

But as Jimbo gets closer she notices that his hands are raised in an unnatural way. His legs gallop in short, quick bursts, zigzagging closer and closer. His skin is chalk white, like a piece of paper.

He is not the same man she knew before. He is one of the monsters meant to be destroyed when she lit the fire.

Cait picks up a rock. Her boots slip, but she manages to stand and she puts up her fists. If this is the end, she is going to go down fighting!

Jimbo focuses on the rock in her hand and snarls. He doesn’t even think about her foot before it lands on his face, sending him sliding over the icy street.

It buys her some time, and she takes off running. Now she knows she didn’t get them all and she needs to make it home more than ever. Her mom and stepdad are in danger!

She finally spies her home at the end of the street, filling her with new hope. She might actually make it!

But something isn’t right. The lights are off in the house. She circles the building and sees one dim light coming from the kitchen. She peeks in the window and sees the refrigerator door hanging open. Mom would never leave the refrigerator open. She always yells when Cait holds the door open trying to decide what to eat.

Ka whips out her phone and dials her mom. No answer. But she can hear the phone ringing upstairs.

“Mom!” she yells.

She doesn’t expect a response, but she has to try. Rather than take the door, she decides to climb the drain pipe. After so many hours of parkour, this is easy for her, but even so, after climbing in the window, she is out of breath. It has been a long day.

She dials the phone again. The ringing echoes from the hallway. She peeks out of the door, and sees her mom hovering over her stepdad, William, a shotgun in her hand. Cait cheers for her mom, but then the bathroom door bursts open.

It’s Jimbo!

Cait plucks the gun out of her mom’s hands and shoots Jimbo, blasting him out of the window.

She turns back to her mom, smiling with pride, and wraps her arms around her. Her mom’s grip is tighter than she remembered, nearly suffocating her. With a sinking heart, Cait kicks her mom away. She uses her parkour skill to run up the wall and past her mom, sliding down the stairs and running to freedom. She can’t bear to hurt her mom, even if she is a zombie.




Inconjunction Sci-Fi Fantasy Convention
1 pm July 2, 2017
At Inconjunction, Nine writers had 40 minutes to write a complete story. Once the timer went off, we had to stop. It was a fun challenge!

Coffee Time

By

Laura Edwards, Mary Fitzpatrick, Lynn Frost, Reed Hartman, Melissa Kocias, Steve Peters, Bob Richey, Suzan Spitzburg, Loren Adel Ver with Matthew Barron



Mary feels like 100 cigarettes are being put out on her skin. Her supervisor, Brad, is there, as expected, with his perfect hair and teeth, but 8 of her new colleagues also sit around the table. They all look at her expectantly. It is like her first day at Interstellar accounts all over again. She had tripped and dropped all the Andromeda folders. Her old coworkers had never let her get over it.

She wouldn’t let that happen again in the Temporal Accounts department. It had taken her a year to get approved for this transfer.

She smiles, nods, and sits. She repeats everyone’s name as they are introduced. Despite the surprise ambush and her crippling anxiety, things couldn’t be going better. Brad’s assistant, Conner, brings them all steaming foam cups. A brown circle forms on the table under Mary’s cup.

Mary hates coffee, but everyone else drinks, and she must fit in. She follows their lead and sips the dark, bitter beverage. A little drips on her white sleeve, but no one seems to notice.

She places the cup back on the table and folds her hand over the new stain. The brown circle expands under the cup.

Brad beams. “I’m so glad you like the coffee. It’s my personal blend. We live on it here.”

“Oh, it’s really good!” Mary takes another sip, barely hiding the disgust on her lips. The brown circle continues to bleed under the cup.

The staff drones on about a new time micromanagement app they would be beta testing this week. The new app will allow making small, surgical changes in time in order to affect larger outcomes instead of the unpredictable large scale manipulations of today.

She can feel them all stealing glances at her as they drink their coffee, noticing she hasn’t taken another sip. She lifts the bitter liquid to her lips. Something hot falls on her chest, drips down under her shirt and over her belly. Dark brown drips down her hand and she realizes the cup is leaking. She chugs the rest before any more can escape. Maybe now they will let her go to her new cubicle and get started. She didn’t become a temporal accountant to make friends.

Before she can object, Conner pours more coffee in the cup, filling it to the brim. Their eyes meet. The brown circle continues to creep, leaving an irregular puddle on the table. Conner smiles as though waiting for some further reaction. Mary lifts the cup to her lips and the bottom completely falls through. Hot brown scalds her wrist and sternum.

A light flashes.

Mary repeats everyone’s name as they are introduced again. She looks down at her pristine white blouse.

A dark circle forms under her foam cup, but Conner replaces it with another, saying, “This one should work better for you.”

Brad winks at her. “Welcome to Temporal accounts. Where we fix everything in past.”




Our very first attempt at doing the Group FLash Fiction workshop was at the Indypendent show, where we only had 25 minutes to write a complete story! (It was supposed to be 20, but we cheated a little.)

Indypendent show Group A 11:30 am Sunday April 2, 2017

Return of the Raiders

By

Justin Little with Matthew Barron



The mad doctor shielded his eyes from the sight of his horrible creation… Jack couldn’t wait to turn the page, but the creaking of the rusty town gate pulled him from his book. He had never seen so many people coming into town at once. Few men, mostly women and children, their clothes stained with soot hobbled onto the streets of Demotown.

Jack recognized Jon, a trader who visited town frequently, but Jack had never seen him so disheveled. Littleburgh had been raided, the town burned to the ground. It instantly brought horrific images of the night four years ago when bandits had killed Jack’s parents. Jon said the raider’s next stop was here.

Men and women mounted the walls and armed themselves at the gates. Jack grabbed a gun and waited. He was too young last time, but this time, he would fight!

The waiting was painful, but the thundering hooves got louder and louder and Jack could feel the pounding in his jaw.

The people on the wall released flaming arrows. Jack wished he could see if they were hitting their mark . Men on the wall shouted and the gate creaked open. The bandits weren’t equipped to deal with a town that was prepared. Their horses were already down when Jack and Jon rushed out of the gates with rifles blazing. It was almost comical to see the bandits darting away on foot. The refugees from Littleburgh let out a cheer and chased them down, but the villains escaped into the woods.

The raiders would be back, but Jack and the town would be ready.

Justin Little's fan fiction can be found at www.fanfiction.net/~takenkingoryx



Indypendent show Group B 2:00 pm Sunday April 2, 2017

On the Run with Leroy

By

Baryn Barnes with Matthew Barron



Leroy grabs a bottle of Wild Turkey whiskey from the shelf. Baryn says, “Don’t get that. I’m a Jack Daniels man.”

Leroy shakes his head. “No one in the hood drinks Jack Daniels. You don’t want to stand out when we get to Jacki’s. If you see Leroy run, you run.”

Baryn raises an eyebrow. “Are you serious?”

The loud clatter of cigarette boxes and smashing bottles resounds through the store. In the overhead mirror, Baryn spots two men in ski masks pointing guns at the cashier. Baryn pulls Leroy aside and they duck in the aisle.

Boom! A shot rings out. By the time Baryn and Leroy reach the cashier, the robbers are gone and the cashier is on the floor, chest heaving, blood pooling underneath him.

An old man with leathery skin starts shouting from the door “You just shot that man!”

“It wasn’t us!” Baryn insists.

“I saw you!” the man continues to shout. “A white man and a black man ran in!”

“That wasn’t us!” Baryn repeats.

“He won’t believe us!” Leroy says. “Run!”

Leroy takes off. Baryn is trailing Leroy, but catches up quickly. “Where are we running to?”

Sirens blare behind them, and the old man shouts, “They went that way!”

“Crap!” Baryn shouts. “Let’s just stop and explain the situation.”

“They won’t believe us!”

Leroy grabs Baryn and the inertia pulls them both to the ground.

“Damn it Leroy!”

Leroy points at the cop cars surrounding the train station.

“Damn it!”

Leroy takes off running in another direction. “Keep to the shadows.”

“That’s easy for you to say.”

Leroy finally arrives at a rundown tenement. They climb the stairs and bang on door 3B.

Jacki pulls open the door. “Your early! Party doesn’t start until 10:00.”

Leroy gives Jackie a kiss on the cheek and sinks into a comfortable chair.

Baryn is out of breath. “What are you doing? They’re going to catch us!”

Leroy shakes his head and pops open a beer. “Nah. Not anymore. We all look alike.”





Flash Fiction Workshops
Created by Matthew Barron 4/03/17
Updated 1/12/18
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