Typo Flash Fiction – Hope over here.

(Thanks to Jex for this idea.)

Like a lot of you, I keep something nearby to record any interesting thought worthy of remembering. I don’t trust my brain. It’s betrayed me too many times. I could carry a pen and paper with me, but with the advent of the smartphone and apps like Evernote, why bother? One less thing for me to carry around (I always have a pen in my pocket–yes, yes, I practically served that one to you guys on a silver platter).

So, cool, I can just type things into my phone.

But what to do if I’m otherwise occupied with things like, oh I don’t know, ensuring my motor vehicle doesn’t mow down innocent street signs or worse?

Evernote has a handy Speech-to-Text feature so all you have to do is hit record at a stoplight and blabber on. It not only saves an audio file, but attempts to be your personal court reporter and inscribe your words.

If you haven’t figured it out already, there is a consequence to letting a computer do the thinking for you, whether through auto-correct or dictation. The machine really does have a mind of its own and that can result in some interesting ideas. Interesting enough to be the seeds for some flash fiction!

Here’s my latest one to kick off the series.


Hope over here.

Daisy hopped, but she didn’t know why. The great yellow ball rose. The great yellow ball fell. Usually with blades of green grass stuck between her bottom teeth, she would chew and stare into the nothing between her and the horizon. Sometimes she would find water, drink, and then stare at the thing on the other side. It would drink when she drank, but it would ripple away before they could touch.

Most of the time, she hopped and hopped. Until one day she stopped.

Something was…off. Dipping her head, she snapped off more blades of green grass, but her eyes never left the tall bunch of grass-not-green sitting in the distance. Almost yellow, like the great ball, but not quite that either. It had a name, she was sure. She swallowed the green grass, lifted her head and wiggled her nose. Nothing different.

Where did it come from? Daisy didn’t know. When had she first seen it? She didn’t know. She hopped forward, slowly at first, and then faster and faster until she could no longer see around the grass-not-green. With her face pressed against it she bit into a piece and chewed it. Nothing different.

But then she heard a noise from within the grass-not-green. She sprung upright. Her ears twitched. The sound came again, closer this time. The grass-not-green rustled and swayed until she saw something-else-not-green moving between the blades.

Before she had enough time to mull it over, the something-else-not-green jumped through the grass-not-green and slammed into her. Her eyes closed quickly as she fell backwards, but when she opened them, the thing from the other side of the water was on top of her, looking back.

It hopped off and she flipped back onto her feet. It looked at her again before hopping back into the grass-not-green. This was something different.

Daisy hopped into the grass-not-green.


-Phillip

0 thoughts on “Typo Flash Fiction – Hope over here.

    1. Glad you enjoyed it Cleopatra. 🙂 Thanks for stopping by!

  1. Good one, Phillip! I have Evernote so I could try that, but then my recording would probably be interrupted by the curses I throw at other drivers on my commute 😉

    1. Thanks Marie! Yeah, my recordings have the occasional road rage segment in them. Also makes for good typos. 🙂

  2. This would make a lovely children’s story!

    1. Thank you Aussa! If I could only draw…

      1. The interwebs are full of talented people, you just need to find a partner!

  3. Love Daisy’s viewpoint, especially of the great yellow ball and the grass-not-green. Love the use of color!!! I agree with Aussa. And you don’t have to draw to make a children’s story. Someone else could draw the images for you. 🙂

    1. Thanks Linda! Are you offering?? 😀

  4. […] my last bit of flash fiction, I found it a fun way to keep my writing muscles pumped. Here’s my response to Chuck […]

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