Friday Flash Fiction - 100-Word Stories

Risk, by Don Tassone

28/2/2020

Given the news, he’d grown wary of anyone who coughed or sneezed.

The more he watched TV and scanned social media, the more paranoid he became.

“Cover your mouth,” he said to strangers who coughed or sneezed within earshot.

Whenever he chose to leave his house, that is.

“You’ve got to get out,” his wife told him.

“Are you crazy?” he said. “It’s a jungle out there.”

“Ten new cases of the virus have been confirmed,” said the announcer on TV.

He couldn’t take it. He turned off the TV, poured himself a drink and went outside for a smoke.

Finally, by Pamela Kennedy

28/2/2020

His comedy didn't provide any humor for some women and now they're getting the last laugh. I don't care if he's comfortable in his spartan-like accommodation. Do you?

It was rough for the other guy who was able to jet set to and fro a private floral perfumed island before landing in a urine scented cell. He couldn't hack it and abruptly ended his stay.
Another high and mighty one will be moving into a more modest residence. He'll have a new lifestyle.

Aren't you happy that justice is finally being served? Me too.

At Odds, by Krystyna Fedosejevs

28/2/2020

“You’re wrong, it’s going be an early spring,” Jimmy insisted.

Tom winced. “Remember February? Groundhog said: six more weeks of winter.”

“What sensible person believes rodents?” Jimmy chuckled. “Our local radio weatherman said it’ll be sunny and warm sometime soon.”

Next day, early morning, there was a knock on their bedroom door. Dad entered, dressed in his outdoors winter attire, complete with toque and heavy gloves.

“Okay boys,” he began. “Which one of you will be ready first to help with the shovelling?”

Tom moved a pen towards his wall calendar. Under March 1st, he scribbled “in like a lion”.

Vacation Denied, by Marjan Sierhuis

28/2/2020

The latest international news took her back to a moment in time. The year was 2003, and she had been in direct contact with the coronavirus.

“You are under quarantine for fourteen days and not to leave your premises,” said her caller.

Cordelia cleaned her kitchen cupboards, painted her walls, washed the windows, swept the floors, familiarized herself with the names of every soap opera star, and gave her poodle a makeover.

Two weeks later, she requested a vacation. She was exhausted. It was denied.

No Hiding Place, by James B. Revell

28/2/2020

I moved quietly from room to room. I had entered through an open window, using a neighbour's ladder.

'I haven't seen George in over a week', the neighbour had told us.

No-one was around, but one upstairs room was locked, and there was no response to my knocking.

George was a sick old man who lived alone. Being increasingly concerned, the neighbour had alerted my Police station.

I forced the door, and entered an office. No-one was inside, alive or dead. An open cabinet caught my eye: it contained yellowing documents in German, and a well-thumbed copy of Mein Kampf...

The Gossip, by Mark Tulin

28/2/2020

Mel knew that Larry was a gossip. Up until now, Mel thought Larry’s blabbering was innocent. But everything changed once Mel became the subject of Larry’s malicious rumors.

“I thought I told you not to tell anyone about my triple-bypass, Larry. That’s private.”

“Oh, sorry, Mel. I thought it was common knowledge.”

The next day, Mel found out that Larry spread rumors that he’s having marital problems.

Mel was furious.

Dave, another notorious gossip, asked Mel if it were true that Larry had erectile dysfunction.

Mel pondered the tantalizing question for a moment but knew that revenge wouldn’t be sweet.

River Rats, by Jim Woessner

28/2/2020

A green head poked through the water’s smooth surface, a bull’s-eye of concentric waves. My father called them “river rats.” “They eat fish,” he said. So I never saw the turtle. I never heard about the woman, the Mother of us all, who fell from heaven, who landed on a turtle’s back, who with her twin boys brought mud up from the bottom, and created the Earth. I never saw the turtle. I saw the competition. I saw the enemy. I saw a target. I was a boy who loved his father. So I raised the twenty-two to my shoulder.

Thou Shall Not, by Julie Achilles

28/2/2020

Raj, 'do you think Moses should have been given another set of commandments?'

Sabrina. 'why another set?'

Raj. 'maybe a set with Thou shall to sit alongside the 'shall not' list.

Sabrina. No laws are for what you cannot do.

Raj. then I suppose you can do anything that is not on the 'shall not' list.

Sabrina. well yes I suppose so- what is it you want to do then?

Raj. nothing specific was just wondering in case I do

Sabrina. So weird.

End of February, by Yola M. Caecenary

28/2/2020

I was walking under an umbrella that night. It had been raining since noon and if I had to follow my mood, I just didn’t want to leave the house. But that night was a celebration of our mother’s 71st birthday. I wanted to be there.

Under a canopy of the bus shelter, I sat on a bench and waited. I caught the white and red lights from vehicles slowly passing. Everything was moving at a slow pace. But they went back normal when the bus arrived.

Soon, there I was, had the birthday celebration with my sisters, without Mum.

How Are You? by Yash Seyedbagheri

28/2/2020

Classmates wave across campus and within the computer lab. Waves convey casual knowledge.

They never ask the real question. How are you?

I live for the presence of others, however fleeting. I haven’t been invited to a party in months. Weekends, I have only Netflix to drown out cheer. Even then, laughter sneaks in. Students march to parties, share secrets I can only imagine. Love, bad grades, foibles.

I try to tell classmates. But they move fast.

Would I accept if they invited me to join?

I imagine flailing, searching for good jokes and dance moves.

I stick to waving.

Technology Rules, by Bex Gooding

28/2/2020

They viewed the test subject as it walked through the beautiful garden with unseeing eyes.

The woman walked aimlessly, head down, her left hand held in front of her, the index finger of her right hand swiping aimlessly across the left palm.

‘What’s she doing?’

‘She had the device for so long her body is fixed in that position. She can’t look up anymore, nor does she see the flowers, the trees or the animals around her. Her brain was locked into technology ignoring nature for so long it doesn’t know how to react.’

‘Is it reversible?’

‘Unlikely.’

‘How sad.’

The Parade, by Bruce Levine

28/2/2020

Jennifer watched the parade just as she did every year, but this year was different, this year she was watching in person and not on television. Her parents always promised and then something came up. Not this year. This year she’d run away from home to go to the parade.

Rainy Day End, by Rodney Drake

28/2/2020

The dark clouds overhead bumped slowly into each other, grumbling when they did. A chilly mist swirled around Jake as he walked through Chicago’s nearly empty streets to Audrey’s apartment, which turned to actual rain by the time he arrived.

She opened the door, let him in, but said nothing. As Jake dried off his hair, he said cheerfully, “I brought you some Oreos.” Her favorite treat.

Audrey looked at the cookies, then up at Jake without expression. “No thanks.” Then Jake knew their relationship was over.

A Chance to Mend, by Sivan Pillai

28/2/2020

After asking the bewildered students to stand outside the locked classroom, I searched each bag. Joseph had complained earlier about his missing new pen.

Even after finding it in Thomas’ bag, I continued searching for the benefit of peeping Toms, if any.

Taking Joseph aside, I told him, “You should have searched thoroughly. The pen is in your bag.”

“I’m in the police force now, Sir, and I always give the petty thieves a chance to mend their ways, as you did once,” Thomas told me years later.

Imagined Flower, by Paloma Lenz

28/2/2020

You were planted.
In the coming spring, a lilac would blossom.
The soil grew heavier, dry, cracked; my skin was taut with promises of you. The birds sang, awaiting your arrival. The trees danced in the wind, illuminated by an imminent dream.

But, you weren’t even real.

So I shriveled up; if you couldn’t flower, then neither would I. The birds left; leaves descended from the trees. The winds tormented me, reminded me of the breath you never would breathe. All I was left with was the memory of you - something that wasn’t and would never be true.

Cher and the President, by Gordon Lawrie

28/2/2020

The President leaned forward. "Hey, Cher... it's getting late. Time for your bedtime story."

Each night, the President challenged Cher to entertain him with a completely new tale. Each story had to be exactly one hundred words long, had to feature himself as the central character, and had to focus on one of the President's favourite three topics: golf, money and sex. Failure was unthinkable: she would have to offer her body to him for the entire night. To date, she'd escaped every night.

As her wordcount hit the nineties, she could hear him snoring. She was safe until tomorrow.

The Invisible, Lost and Found, by Kim Favors

23/2/2020

More heart procedures soon. Another cardiac ablation and cardioversion, plus meds that leave her lightheaded and dopey.

Her bullying father, again told little, insisted she’s dying and demanded her money. She let the answering machine take his calls.

This hospital stay is different. No laptop or cellphone, and she ignores — at least tries — Trump’s televised travesties.

Instead, she interacts with not only doctors and nurses, but technicians, students, volunteers, cleaning crews, nearly everyone taking care of her.

She asks about their goals, lives, pets. She congratulates. Says thank-you often.

And learns something important about herself: Her heart is already healing.

Expression of Eternal Love, by Benjamin Kardos

23/2/2020

“Do you still love me?” Kelly asked one day.

“Of course I do,” George said. “Why would you even need to ask?”

“No reason, I was just curious.”

“Remember that love song I wrote for you on guitar? Remember when I played it at open mic night?”

“I remember. That was our first year of marriage 9 years ago.”

“So?” said George. “I feel the same now as I did then. That song was an expression of eternal love.”

“Really?” Kelly made a face.

“Yes, so what’s the matter?”

“Well, honestly…” she hesitated. “It just wasn’t a very good song.”

Blue Crack, by Arvind Howarth

21/2/2020

The last gulp of coffee. My hands move across the keys without me and I'm staring at the sickly plastic-blue edged screen. My eyes magnet to where red notifications usually glow, but there are none. I feel mild disappointment. Oh - I am considering changing my cover picture - adding a cutout to the black and white photo of my brother's complex with tangled white sculpure. I click my name to get there and see it won't work.My number of friends has gone down from 402 to 401. My mood plummets and I instantly regret the last thing I shared.

Inked Pulp, by Jonathan A. Watson

21/2/2020

I dreamt I met the late Nick Joaquin. We were floating in darkness black as ink. Unseen thunder told me that I may ask one question.

“How does one get over the blank page?” I asked, fixating my shy gaze on his nicely combed hair. “Reality sometimes lacks inspiration.”

“Imagination.” he smiled. He then faded into the darkness that disappeared as I opened my eyes.

“Interesting dream.” my friend laughed over breakfast. “Very imaginative.”

“I dreamt I met Nick Joaquin.” I later said aloud, while typing it onto my laptop during dinner. “We were floating in darkness black as ink.”

The Gift, by Ran Walker

21/2/2020

Her sisters bought her a wig of human hair as a gift before her first round of treatments, but it felt funny on her head, so she placed it on a foam stand and named it Annalise.

At night, long after her sisters had returned to their homes, she talked to Annalise. She told Annalise the things she couldn’t bring herself to tell anyone else, the fears that haunted her.

And while Annalise never said a single word in response, when she got the update from her oncologist, she wanted Annalise, above all others, to hear the good news first.

Smile, by Robb Lanum

21/2/2020

Dan couldn't stop smiling — literally. His facial muscles locked, leaving doctors stumped. Injections, hypnosis, Morrissey,... nothing helped.

Smile. Now hold that... for FIVE MONTHS. Feel tension in your cheeks? Forehead? No wonder the Joker had a death wish.

Dan's smile eventually vanished, thanks to his mother-in-law. Not like THAT — it was her minestrone. Dan took a slurp, closed his eyes,... and a warm, genuine smile overtook him, unlocking everything. Dan almost kissed her (but c'mon: mother-in-law).

Some take Dan's story as some kind of fable, something about gratitude and simple pleasures, about irony and letting go.

Pollyannas.

It's just MSG.

Hesitation, by EJ Silk

21/2/2020

I didn't know what to say. You stood there, not radiant, not healthy, but alive.

I made a cup of tea, and watched how you didn't drink it. Watched how your eyes searched the room. I held your hand. We talked, but I couldn't remember. Neither could you. You asked me what was for tea, and I replied. You asked again after the news.

You said my name, and I felt myself smile. I propped up your cushions, and listened as you spoke about Tommy's son, and old Ruth down the road.

I didn't need to say anything at all.

High Noon, by Gordon Lawrie

21/2/2020

High Noon: the notorious outlaw and his three henchmen were in town.

The Marshal turned the corner into the main street. Immediately, he made out four shadows against the sunlight.

Suddenly, one went to draw. But the Marshal was too fast: in seconds, all four lay in a heap.

The supervisor wandered across. "Well done, sir, you got all four. Now, if you'll excuse me, there's another customer in ten minutes. Thankfully he wants to shoot at the same four dummies, Trump, Putin, Xi and Johnson, so it'll be easy to get the set-up ready again. Same time next week?"

Her New Bicycle, by Bruce Levine

21/2/2020

The wind was in her face, blowing her hair and sending waves of pleasure through her entire being. A perfect day and a perfect route around her apartment complex – smooth roads and no traffic. What was supposed to be exercise was, in reality, a joyous adventure on her new bicycle.

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