Flash Fiction – Terminal Velocity


Zippy Flash Fiction

Inspired by: 5 Words #59

Jakuu looked back at the parachutes of black oil billowing from his fly pack. He could already feel the heat building, making his back sweat through two layers of dispersal cloth.

That’s when the coupling blew.

Jakuu put an arm over the back of his head as one of the thrust canisters flailed about wildly. His body fluttered and whipped in the air as the canister fought to free itself. He was losing altitude.

Straining against the stuttering inertia, Jakuu took a long grapple from his waist and fished over his shoulder for the canister.

It caught.

Jakuu pulled the grapple rope through a ring clasp on his belt and wrenched the thrust canister back into place.

Then the other coupling broke.

The rope burned through Jakuu’s gloves as the canister sped away, still attached to the grapple. It hit the end of the rope and jolted Jakuu sideways at the hip where the rope was anchored. Struggling against the rush of air, he reached down and punched the rope release.

Nothing happened.


The rope went slack. He punched it twice more, still nothing. Jakuu pulled a knife from his belt. The canister hit the end of the rope again. He was jerked in a new direction, whipping his arm backward. As the knife rolled out of his hand, he reflexively clenched his fingers catching the small wrist strap.

Jakuu cut himself free of the errant rocket and began to tumble. The remaining canister on his back, destabilized, was pushing him into an odd spin.

Jakuu killed the power to his fly pack and went into freefall. With arms and legs spread wide, he gradually righted himself. The ground sped upward at a sickening pace.

Slowly, Jakuu pumped a lever on the side of his fly pack. Only one shot. He had to time it just right.

Five seconds to impact.

Jakuu slammed the lever down. The thrust canister whirred, flared, and shot its guts out in one magnificent blast. The G-force nearly knocked him unconscious, but it was enough to give him some forward momentum. Jakuu hit the snow, rolled, bounced, and skidded to a stop.

For a moment, the whole world was still, cold, and quiet.

Jakuu rolled onto his back and sat up in the snow. His hands were shaking as he peeled the scorched rubidium cell free from the shattered fly pack. He turned the scarlet-colored device over in his hand, took a deep breath, and looked up at the sky.



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Flash Fiction – Exile

Zippy Flash Fiction

“Adjust 9 degrees. Increase charge by 12%. Fire in 7 seconds. 5… 4… 3… 2… 1… Fire.”

The ground lurched and quaked as the giant gun fired its capsule into orbit around a distant chunk of earth. Number 46 was prone to a wild elliptic due to the slingshot created when Number 16 and Number 23 came alongside its east and west hemispheres at almost exactly the same time before falling away again in opposite directions. Pinpoint accuracy was necessary in any case when it came to launching among any of the 48 regions, but Number 46 was a special case.

As the capsule entered the low orbit of Number 46, triangular wings emerged from either side of the craft. Sprays of air escaped sporadically from the shuttle as it rolled, flipped, and aligned itself flat against the atmosphere of Number 46. It sailed slowly down, cutting through the sky and clouds of the speeding planetoid.

The shuttle rattled and smoked as small explosions shredded the thin metal hull. Boxes of supplies and tools began pouring out through the gaps, freefalling to the earth below. The shuttle started to swing around due to air resistance tearing across the widening holes. Faster and faster it spun, staying level. It came down on a lake like a giant skipping stone, skidding across the water’s surface before losing momentum and flipping. A tidal wave rippled away from the wreckage as it began to sink.

The water boiled as air bubbled up from the sinking shuttle. Slowly, the water became calm.
Suddenly, a head popped out of the water. The man gasped, pushing shaggy black hair out of his eyes.

The exile emerged from the lake coughing. He stood and stared out across the path of supplies spread far and wide over the land. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a compass.

“Well, better get started.”


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Flash Fiction – Skystriker

Zippy Flash Fiction

“It’s pointless, the king is a fool! He’ll never agree,” a figure cloaked in purple said.

“But he must agree. And he will. I’ll make sure of it,” a man wearing thick black goggles said. He smiled, his teeth black as soot. The purple figure fidgeted, uncertain, concerned.

Black Teeth stretched out his right arm, it was twice the size of his left, and took hold of a heavy, cast iron crank. He grunted. The muscles and veins stood out of his arm and neck. His body tightened, bulged, sweated. Slowly, a long low creak screeched through the room. Gears tangled in a brilliant horrible mass began turning on each other. A faint blue light glowed all around like bottled lightning crackling.

“What, what are you doing?!” the purple figure said, stepping backward.

The light grew brighter and brighter. Blinding blue, white-hot light. The purple figure dropped to his knees, shielding his eyes.

Black teeth began laughing maniacally as the crank turned faster and faster. Soon his arm was a blur as the gears ground on each other in a cacophony of iron and steam. The purple figure scratched at his ears trying to block out the terrible sound that pounded his head.

A sudden explosion rocked the entire airship. The purple figure felt as though his insides had been separated from each other. Bone from bone, muscle from muscle.

The machine began to slow and the lights dim. The purple figure stood shakily, clutching his head and stomach. He looked up, bleary-eyed, at black teeth. His arm was still turning, slower and slower as the machine screeched to a halt, and the room darkened.

“Wh-what did you do?” the purple figure asked.

Black teeth was smiling.

“I stopped the rain.”


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