Quotes & Sayings About Flash Fiction

There is a novella inside every anus; there is a broken heart inside every mind; there is a bisected hug inside every arm; there is a pun inside every belly. "The Great American Novel," thinks the typographer, who at this point is severely constipated. He tries to squeeze out an 'o' but can't. "The Great American Navel," he says, then waits for a laugh. — Jimmy Chen

When life expectancy hit 95 years of age, married people around the world shouted, "Enough!" And just like that, the institution of marriage was reinvented. — Katherine Valdez

I don't see much difference between prose poems and flash fiction (I've often taught the latter as the former), but then I also don't see that much difference between art and poetry. — Matthea Harvey

The Lord is like lightening. Startled by its appearance and momentarily blinded by the brightness of the flash, when the lightening strikes a person is either destroy or jolted to new life." Elias the Teacher — Daniel Molyneux

In her socks, Egg glides down the hallway, as if on ice. She's like the Flash, so fast you can see only a blur The Flash is almost invisible, but it's the almost that troubles her, the red streak of almost that catches the eye. Superheroes save the day. She knows they are fiction, but a part of her wants so much for them to be real, like Newton's equal and opposite forces. — Tamai Kobayashi

Day 72
I remember oranges and you don't mind me leaving the queue momentarily to find some. When you say, Of course, you reach for my arm in sympathy and recognition. This may be the thing that breaks me today, that stops me in my tracks before driving me forward, turning a corner, making something work, letting everything happen. When I return, you're touching my yoghurts, reading the ingredients, as though you are making them yours, protecting them in my absence and amusing yourself with the cherry-ness of them. On days like this, I want to take my strangers home with me. — Gemma Seltzer

A shrink and a patient switch roles. Who is really the boss? — Mary Papas

A shrink and a patient switching places. Who is REALLY the boss? — Mary Papas

From Flood, Flash, and Pheromones
coming soon:
In the torrential downpour with water swirling that threatened to pull her down, she didn't see the voice's owner. The hurricane had blessed the entire city with a surprise drenching. All weather reports had predicted it to pass over with sporadic rainfall but that didn't happen. The storm settled over Houston as if it had no intention to move on. Cassie flailed in panic as the roof of her car disappeared under the water twenty feet beyond. She prayed once more that the container in it was watertight. And that she'd see her car again. Then she concentrated on living. Where had the voice come from? — Shelley K. Wall

I think of poetry as a very inclusive term. Still, it's interesting that people want to make the distinction. I love the magazine Double Room for that reason (contributors have to write about their ideas on the prose poem/flash fiction). — Matthea Harvey

Each day Marda gets closer. The sub circles coral reefs off the coasts, where mermaids are said to like the colors of the schools of fishes, and train them to swim around their necks like jewelry or live behind their ears, beneath their long hair. Sometimes mermaids like shallow places, but mostly they like the dark and the beautiful, uncharted, abandoned, soulless parts of the undiscovered world. — Holly Walrath

Just before he passed behind the hedge at the end of the drive, he turned to look back at Stoke Morrow and caught me spying on him. His shining eyes were so cruel, and before I could close the curtain, I saw the flash of an awful grin on his face. It was a grin that said he knew I'd come around. Sooner or later, I'd fall in line. — Adam McOmber

The rain is a screen that changes the colour of the sky, causing a sepia filter to fall over the city. It is as if the city has gone back in time, to the age before the invention of full-coloured photographs. Light becomes suffused and quiet. — Justin Ker

The man she wanted existed only in the romantic novels she was reading. She had met him. But he would never meet her. — Mary Papas

I loved these salt rivers more than I loved the sea; I loved the movement of tides more than I loved the fury of surf. Something in me was congruent with this land, something affirmed when I witnessed the startled, piping rush of shrimp or the flash of starlight on the scales of mullet. I could feel myself relax and change whenever I returned to the lowcountry and saw the vast green expanses of marsh, feminine as lace, delicate as calligraphy. The lowcountry had its own special ache and sting. — Pat Conroy

There was a sudden flash of lightning which brightly illuminated our faces. I squinted against the harsh light. It was soon followed by the crack of thunder. The strong wind whipped our hair around our faces, and the younger girls squealed as they quickly ran across the grass to get inside the school.
Rose and I sat up, smiles on our faces as we listened to the weather's dangerous melody. The third flash of lightning finally ripped open the sky's belly. Freezing rain cascaded out, drenching us in a matter of seconds, the flower garlands drooping and lying limp on our matted hair. — Erica Sehyun Song

As a youngster, I read of Buck Rogers and Flash Gordon. As a student, I wrote English reports on science fiction. And as a fighter pilot, I observed the selection of the Mercury astronauts. All this was fascinating, but I really didn't think I would ever be a part of it. It was only when my good friend Ed White was selected as a Gemini astronaut that I decided to join NASA as part of the Apollo program. — Buzz Aldrin

Anyone? On Snow's visit before the Victory Tour, he challenged me to erase any doubts of my love for Peeta. "Convince me," Snow said. It seems, under that hot pink sky with Peeta's life in limbo, I finally did. And In doing so, I gave him the weapon he needed to break me. — Suzanne Collins

So when she looked in the mirror one day, and saw the beginning of thorny protrusions on her legs, a slight greenish tinge to her skin, she sighed.

It was inevitable. - The Monster In Her Bedroom, Havok Magazine, Issue 1.1 — Katherine Valdez

Write. Edit. Repeat. — Miles White

You need to take some acting classes to learn to hide your huge crush on my husband better — Mary Papas

I consider whoever my words land on to be my target, that's why I like flash fiction, it's a lot like using a shotgun. — Neil Leckman

An infinite number of monkeys have said an infinite number of things about the Hugos this year. People on all sides have said intelligent and insightful things, and people on all sides have said asinine things. The amount of words spent on this makes the Wheel of Time saga look like flash fiction. — Jim C. Hines

As Molly wrapped one of the freshly made flour tortillas around several slices of perfectly cooked steak and piled on guacamole, she began talking. The more she talked, the faster her words came. It was as if she were afraid that someone else would say something or ask her a question. She said that she was working for a firm in Los Angeles that designed sets for television and movies.
"It's different from what you do," she said looking at Boomer. "Sets have to be bigger than life. They have to create an impact. Not boring stuff like the designs for offices."
Elizabeth saw Boomer's eyes flash, but he answered with perfect control, "What's the name of the firm you work for?"
"It's new; it's going through a name change, and they're not sure what name they're going to settle on."
"What movies have they worked on?"
"Oh, a whole bunch. Stuff with Tom Cruise and Johnny Depp. Big movies. — Joyce Swann

The only man she ever loved. And hated. — Mary Papas

A stream of light shot out of her lips, it wasn't blinding though, it was luminescent. It stopped abruptly and Aaron saw the light leave her eyes before she fell, and he swept in to catch her crumpling form.
Eric was right beside them in a flash. "What did you do to her?" He seethed at Darragh, jumping to his feet and tackling him. — Shayna Varadeaux

You can, in short, lead the life of the mind, which is, despite some appalling frustrations, the happiest life on earth. And one day, in the thick of this, approaching some partial vision, you will (I swear) find yourself on the receiving end of - of all things - an "idea for a story," and you will, God save you, start thinking about writing some fiction of your own. Then you will understand, in what I fancy might be a blinding flash, that all this passionate thinking is what fiction is about, that all those other fiction writers started as you did, and are laborers in the same vineyard. — Annie Dillard

Love enters later in life through the cracks left by the first heartbreak. — D. Biswas

A shrink and a patient in a love-hate relationship. Who is REALLY the boss? — Mary Papas

That's our cue," Dr. Chadwick noted, managing to approximate a cheerful smile, addressing the room at large. "Everyone please stand behind the yellow line until the doors open. No food, drink, flash photography, or video cameras are permitted. Once aboard the ride, please keep your hands and arms inside the vehicle at all times until we come to a full and complete stop. Otherwise, they're apt to end up in another universe somewhere without ya, and wouldn't that fry your noggin? — Stephanie Osborn

She wakes up loving him, but not hard enough. He has dandelion hair. Stars fall and zip between them, they can't stop laughing; she falls asleep curled around him like a comma. He is gay, and often, he reminds her that she deserves better. She nods seriously and then forgets. — Meg Pokrass

Aw honey. Today's as important as forever." Grandpa Joe in "Shave and a Haircut" Flash Warden and Other Stories — Eileen Granfors

Shaw Centre has restaurants on the fourth floor, where the ACS boy can pull chairs out for her. Girls love this because no one else does it for them, especially not those sotong RI boys. — Justin Ker

Hollywood wants to go for the flash, because that's what a lot of them think science fiction is. — Octavia E. Butler

Dunce is completely bald and has a really pointed head so the temptation to get him paralytic on his thirtieth birthday, carry him to the tattooist's and get a nice big 'D' smack bang in the middle of his forehead was too much for me. Trouble is he can't afford to have it removed so he wears a big plaster over it. Gangs of children tease him.

'What's underneath the plaster, mister? Show us!'

They swear he has a third eye under there.

My name is Bill but Dunce calls me 'Fez' on account of my hat. I've known Dunce for over sixteen years. — Mike Russell

At the edge of the still, dark pool that was the sea, at the brimming edge of freedom where no boat was to be seen, she spoke the first words of the few they were to exchange. 'I cannot swim. You know it?"

In the dark she saw the flash of his smile. 'Trust me.' And he drew her with a strong hand until the green phosphorescence beaded her ankles, and deeper, and deeper, until the thick milk-warm water, almost unfelt, was up to her waist. She heard him swear feelingly to himself as the salt water searched out, discovered his burns. Then with a rustle she saw his pale head sink back into the quiet sea and at the same moment she was gripped and drawn after him, her face to the stars, drawn through the tides with the sea lapping like her lost hair at her cheeks, the drive of his body beneath her pulling them both from the shore. They were launched on the long journey towards the slim shape, black against glossy black, which was the brigantine, with Thompson on board. — Dorothy Dunnett

Hello. It is Monday. I live in Sun City. Sun City is a city that is entirely contained inside an enormous concrete building in the shape of a sun. Its rays house our living quarters; its circular centre is where we work and shop. No one has ever been outside of the city; it is generally suspected that the environment outside of the city is uninhabitable. — Mike Russell

When I was a young writer if you went to a party and told somebody you were a science-fiction writer you would be insulted. They would call you Flash Gordon all evening, or Buck Rogers. — Ray Bradbury

That woman must have been a husky in a previous life. — Mary Papas

I don't do flash fiction. — Charles Stross

Perhaps she moves too slowly now, or the world moves too fast for her. She enters the lift, a giant wheel turns and steel cables lower the mechanized box. The lift drops down a black shaft, which exists at the heart of each HDB block. The country may be described, not as a place covered with blocks of public housing, but a topography where black vertical shafts, some forty storeys tall, rise out of the ground like trees. — Justin Ker

You should've told me," she repeats. "Because here's a news flash: You might've wanted to shelter me, but there's nowhere you can hide me that'll keep me safe from what's inside my head. — Laura Kreitzer

She would keep playing the role of the winner as long as the audience believed her. — Mary Papas

For sale: baby shoes, never worn. — Ernest Hemingway,

He washed gold his entire life and remained poor his entire life. — Shouhua Qi

And to see the white flash of Klaus's eyes as he whirled on her. For one stunned instant she stared at him, and then lightning crackled.
From an empty sky. — L.J.Smith

He tracks the rise and fall of the glittering darkness thronged with specks and tendrils of luminous secrets. Falling stars crackle in the cold air and prickle his skin. They flash in the corner of his vision where the eye's discernment of light and shadow is most acute. — John Pipkin

There can't be much development of action or theme in such stories, but at least there is some. By contrast, in the short short the very idea of character seems to lose its significance, seems in fact to drop out of sight. We see human figures in a momentary flash. We see them in fleeting profile. We see them in archetypal climaxes which define their mode of existence. Situation tends to replace character, representative condition to replace individuality.
("Introduction") — Irving Howe

Amazing? My heart fluttered. "But I don't want Flash or Harry," I murmured. "You want Spider-Man," he finished for me, looking a little wistful. I shrugged. "And Peter Parker." He looked at me, very seriously. "Then don't settle," he said. — J.M. Richards

Laurel look up at him in question, but he wouldn't meet her eyes. She always wished she had more time to draw secrets from him. "I'll wear it always," she said.
"And think of me?" His eyes held her captive, and she knew there was only one answer.
"Yes."
"Good."
She started to turn, but before she could step away, Tamani grabbed her hand. Without breaking eye contact, he raised her hand to his face and brushed his lips over her knuckles. For just a second, his eyes were unguarded. A spark went through Laurel at what she saw there: raw, unbridled desire.
Before she could look any closer, he smiled, and the flash was gone. — Aprilynne Pike

He clicked the Save button, and there was the sound of a trumpet fanfare. A cleverly designed Flash animation in emerald green illuminated in gold leapt out at him in a 3D effect like the titles of an epic film:

WELCOME, ASH, TO BIG BROTHER, THE AVENGER!

The words exploded in a shower of gold dust. A voice boomed chillingly, 'If you want help to sort them out, look no further! Big Brother will avenge you! — Tracey Morait

In a flash, the previously lusty green irises morphed into an angry blood red. Nadua stood with a gasp, not sure what was happening to him. The horns that peeked out of his sandy brown hair began to alter their color as well, taking on the cast of burning embers. Razor-sharp fangs peeked out from his lips, twisted in rage. This was how he had looked when he was tearing through her men. — Kiersten Fay

To give herself a measure of credible autonomy, she had decided to invent a husband. Then, in a subsequent flash of inspiration, she had just as quickly killed him off. — Tracy Anne Warren

She would keep playing the role as long as the audience fell for it — Mary Papas

Scarlett activated the viola and it came down like short shimmering curtain that covered her eyes with a band of violet light. It dilated her eyes, increasing her binocular summation so that everything in her field of vision was magnified and clear. It also protected her retinas from any sort of laser fire or plasma flash. — April Adams

You look within and upon and around me, savoring every inch. You pull my ear for no reason, and I can tell you really don't want to cry. As a tear falls between by breasts, I look away and pretend the grass is a jungle, and the ants, little kings of forgotten tribes. — Virginia Petrucci

I'm not a 'long writer' and have never wanted to write a novel or even a novella. Poetry, like flash fiction, provides a readily accessible canvas to play with. Whether to express an emotion or share a vignette, these forms are often interchangeable. — Marge Simon

For one ... If you shoot me and your boss realizes it was without good reason, you'll have fucked up your trial period. And trust me; I know you're still in it." Ian pulled open a drawer in a small brown cabinet.
"Secondly, it could end very badly for me and I'd rather prevent that. Getting shot is not on my list of things to do today." He wrapped his hand around the steel grip of his own weapon and removed it from the drawer.
"And last but not least, if you plan to shoot me ... Well, it'll be a matter of which of us is quicker and has better aim." A pleasant smile crossed his features and he casually waved the gun from side to side. "Do you want to risk it? — Natasha McNeely

The shield went down for such a brief moment that, when it sealed again, the tail of the lasomag charge deflected wildly. Adrenaline fired, he dove for the floor, heart racing, as the flash burst backwards, striking someone in Theta's section. Panic swelled in a shrieking roar, front to back, some scattering, others frozen in place. — Marcha A. Fox