Blog Archives

The Songs Of Life, by Jo Oldani Osborne

29/1/2017

It was 26 years ago when the Father-to-be left the Stevie Wonder Tour to fly home to wait out the very long last three weeks for the birth of his first child. It was a long time coming for this 34 year old man and he beamed with the anticipation. He wasn’t disappointed. Stevie dedicated “Isn’t She Lovely” to the new baby girl at that night’s show

Time flew by and before he knew it, a Wedding Band struck up Stevie Wonder’s “Isn’t She Lovely” as his daughter beckoned her Dad to join her for the First Dance at her wedding.

She still was.

The First Step, by Russell Conover

28/1/2017

“ARGH--I just can’t move forward with this story!”
“Why? What’s wrong?”
“I have a phobia of writing the wrong thing. What if my work stinks?”
“I’m sure you’re a better writer than you think.”
“Well, almost no one posts to our LinkedIn group anymore.”
“They probably haven’t heard of the C.F.D.”
“The what?”
“The Crappy First Draft. Just write stuff, and then fix it later.”
“Hmm. That’s a thought.”
“You have to start somewhere, right?”
“I do, and I do have a lot of good ideas.”
“So what are you waiting for?”
“Nothing now. Thanks for the inspiration, friend.”

The Perfect Gifts, by Ann-Louise Truschel

28/1/2017

“Thank you for the delicious chocolates, Raymond. My favorites. You’re such thoughtful nephew!” she says into the phone.

“You’ve always been special to us, Aunt Charlotte. You never forget us at Christmas.”

They share a few more pleasantries, and then she says goodbye and hangs up.

She adds the chocolates to the two trays of cookies, the box of Turkish Delights, and the bag of peppermint-coated pretzels.

If I eat all of this I’ll weigh 400 pounds, she thinks to herself.

She gathers them up, takes them to her car, and begins driving to friends' houses, regifting as she goes.

It Pays To Listen To Advice, by Gordon Lawrie

27/1/2017

In the run-up to the election, the incoming President had campaigned long and hard that he would tighten up the nation's borders. And no sooner was he elected than he scrapped the previous administration's DACA scheme allowing children of unregistered immigrants.

Additionally, he announced that all Muslim arrivals would be "extreme-vetted". All arrivals with long beards would be classified as Islamist militants – whatever their religion really was – and definitely refused entry.

The new President was advised to be cautious by many, but he wouldn't listen. There would be no exceptions: all foreigners with long beards were Islamist terrorists, he insisted.

The Unseen Visitor, by Bobby Warner

27/1/2017

It moved through the streets by day and night. Invisible, it roamed at will with nothing to hinder it.

It veered off the lane, entered a small cottage. Roamed through dingy rooms, finally entered the bedroom, touched two of the three sleepers.

Two days later, a young boy stood at the door of his small home, crying at the loss of his parents. Someone came that morning and took them away in a cart.

The boy sensed something moving along the street, and somehow knew what it was. Terrified, he went back inside to wait for it to return for him.

The Boxing Club, by Fliss Zakaszewska

27/1/2017

Ruby stared at me in horror. “What on earth have you done?”

There was panic in her voice.

“What, this?” I touched the bruise under my eye, then the egg-sized bump above it. My nose had at least stopped bleeding.

“Yes! You only went to collect Charlie from boxing.”

“Yeah, I thought I’d get in the ring and have a go.”

“You’re joking!”

“Yep. Just kidding. Nasty step got my feet then my face had an argument with the pavement. Face lost. Popped in to say I won’t be at work tomorrow.” I grinned. It hurt to smile. “Bye.”

Phobia, by Norman Marcotte

23/1/2017

Mildred cautiously peaked through the kitchen door scanning for any creature lurking around. Their long legs, their hairy bodies and those beady eyes revolted her. Seeing no danger, Mildred scurried across the floor aiming for the cupboard. Before she could reach her destination, her nightmare entered. Mildred froze, petrified. It was all she could do not to scream. She bit her lip, paralysed with fear. The source of her phobia brushed against her. Mildred jumped on the couch and waited for the hideous beast to depart. When the monster left, Mildred, shaken by the experience, hurried back to her web.

Obedience Training, by Sharon Phillips

22/1/2017

There are times it's like having a dog that’s tail-wag-lick-slobber-glad when you get home; like having a dog that's bad, a dog that pees on the carpet or barks. A dog that pushes its luck. You have to show it who's boss, so you beat it or kick it until it whines. It slinks off to hide. But look, here's your dog again: its tail wags, it lick-slobber-pants for a stroke then it cringes as soon as you move.

It's her cringe that makes me kick harder. She knows that it's all her fault.

Pluto Problems, by Russell Conover

21/1/2017

First Pluto had the indignity of being declassified as a planet. Now, some unprecedented events across the universe were affecting Earthlings so much that Pluto’s orbit was becoming wobbly, and it threatened to teeter out of the solar system.

“What are we going to do?” Reenu wailed. “This is our home. We have to preserve it!”

“Calm down!” Taikap insisted. “We’ll overcome all this.”

They each used their four arms to hold hands with each other, and their fellow Plutonians. They willed love into their lives, no matter what happened. Within the day, Pluto was right back on course.

“Amazing!”

Missing In Guatemala, by Fliss Zakaszewska

20/1/2017

“Have you seen them?” call Rosa-Marià, as she joined us in the sweltering sun.

“Billy and Harry should be here by now,” countered Dorothy, glancing at her watch.

“Widen the search-area,” I instructed.

We duly fanned out and continued looking.

“Found them?” I shouted as Rosa-Maria approached.

Shaking her head, she called out to Dorothy. “Any luck?”

“No. What are we going to do? Their mobile phones are dead.”

Someone had to take charge. I stepped forward firmly.

“We’ll go to the bar by ourselves, girls. If they can’t make it on time for ‘Happy Hour’, that’s their problem.”

Image: author

Friday, January 20th, by Gordon Lawrie

20/1/2017

Payback, by Bobby Warner

19/1/2017

I stood looking at Sounders Lake. Yesterday Jimmy Jones called me and said, "Seen Old Morse, Mr. Thames, floating on the south side of the lake, plain as day!"

I felt a surge of joy. Last year Old Morse grabbed my dad and pulled him into the lake. I vowed to get that bastard.

That's why I stopped in at the Army Surplus store in town and bought an illegal item from an old Marine buddy.

I slapped the water a dozen times before his ugly snout appeared. I pulled the pin, and threw the grenade down Old Morse's throat.

Last Passage of the Mannequins, by Sankar Chatterjee

17/1/2017

Image: Avi Chatterjee

On a holiday break, US Naval Officer Simon Jones, stationed at the Mediterranean Sea, was exploring the labyrinthine maze of the old medina of Fez in Morocco. While enjoying the aroma emanating from the spice markets, he entered into the glitzy fashion-world where women mannequins, dressed in stunning dresses were widow-displayed. Simon philosophically pondered “Do mannequins ever die”? The truth revealed itself while a young boy appeared, pushing a cart loaded with various body parts of the now-defunct mannequins making their last passage. Simon remembered the far-eastern philosophy: “Only the inner spirit is indestructible, everything else comes to an end!”

Jack, by Georgina Lyttelton

15/1/2017

Amongst the cluster of anxious onlookers, some kneeling while others hovered in anticipation of being useful, the ‘Porcelain Lady’ remained surprisingly intact. Swathed in soft tissue with pink satin ribbons, she was released, and rolled gently down the camber of Argyle Street before nestling behind the front wheel of a stationery car. Its engine was still running, as was the driver, who had taken flight toward Prince’s Avenue.

In between Jack’s ashes, and his black and white photograph, she is smiling and clutching her still fan in her silent world. The doorbell is ringing. They have come to collect her.

Just Another Day In Paradise, by Fliss Zakaszewska

15/1/2017

The uniformed man glared sternly at me. “Look at the camera please.”

I did. Click.

“Gracias.”

That was the mug-shot done.

“Please now put your four fingers, right hand on that screen.”

Lights flashed red, amber, green as my finger prints are taken.

“Now the thumb.”

The lights flash as my thumb prints is scanned.

“The other hand, por favor señora."

I go through the same rigmarole with the other hand.

The man in the dark blue uniform flashes a big smile at me.

“Gracias señora and welcome to Panamá.”

Unexpected Visitors, by Russell Conover

14/1/2017

The town watched, stunned, as the circular structure lowered itself from the sky and landed on Main Street. Then, three odd creatures exited, each with four arms, four legs, five eyes, and blue skin.

“Take us to your leader!” one growled.

“Uh, she’s not here,” one man stammered.

“Well, how do you entertain yourselves in the meantime?” another creature demanded. The townspeople smiled.

One turned on an MP3 player, and the citizens started to boogey and sing to “Stayin’ Alive”. Wide-eyed, the visitors returned to their ship and skedaddled. “Observed an odd ritual,” one wrote. “But, looks kind of fun.”

Chow Hall, by Joseph S. Pete

13/1/2017

The guy who scooped gobs of mashed potatoes on his tray was supine, bleeding from his femoral artery.

Chow hall workers, Iraqi police and soldiers were strewn everywhere. Smoke billowed.

Mark scanned, searching down the barrel of his M4 for any threat, but saw nothing. Just disoriented soldiers stumbling around the blast radius amid plaintive wailing.

Sunlight peered through the chow hall tent, which the bomb blew through. Blood ran down the floor.

Mark applied a tourniquet. He recalled his training and pressed down to stop the bleeding. He pushed his hardest. He’d regret his failure every second going forward.

A Man In His Position, by Gordon Lawrie

13/1/2017

The thin layer of snow was enough to make walking in stilettos tricky, her stockings, short dress, and knee-length coat hopelessly inadequate protection for her legs. A revealing blouse and two non-existent items of underwear completed the effect.

Angelique wondered what he'd ask for tonight. A man in his position could afford anything, but at seventy even his powers were waning; she knew he'd need something 'different'.

Reaching the hotel, she discreetly took the lift, checked her appearance once more, then knocked on his penthouse door. Just in time, she remembered to switch on the hidden camera in her handbag.

What Luck, by Johann Lux

12/1/2017

I was at the office when I noticed my four leaf clover lucky charm was missing. I called in my secretary, who is also my wife, she told me she might have thrown the charm out with some paper work.

I went dumpster diving, retrieved the clover and found an 18K gold Rolex President watch, brand new still in the box.

I was ebullient, until I realized I was late for our daughters play. I arrived late. My wife was furious.

“Where the hell were you,” my wife scolded,” Do you realize what time it is“?

“Oh Yes” I grinned.

Rosalie, by Jennifer Canaveral

11/1/2017

She’s wearing the polka-dot dress tonight. Waves of Guinness splash over the brim of her glass and soak into my shoes but I don’t give a damn. She can shatter that pint over my head and I wouldn’t mind a bit. Just as long as I hear that laugh. Thin Lizzy comes over the speakers and I tremble because I know what happens next.

She’ll run outside to the middle of the empty street. She’ll dance in the moonlight, as her red heels click on the cobblestones. After I pluck the shards from my hair, I’ll ask to join her.

A Modern Family, by Fliss Zakaszewska

9/1/2017

I’m sitting with my laptop writing this story while Annette is preparing a software analysis report on Excel. Gavin is playing poker online (and winning), Chaz is watching his favourite car programme (featuring the guys that used to be on BBC) and Isla is mesmerised by a 1‑Direction video on an iPhone. Elsa is happily watching a trashy ‘soap’ on her iPad.

Three generations in one room. I close my laptop.

“Lovely to see you all, but I’ve got to go.”

Chaz looks up. “Lovely to see you too Grandma. It’s great to spend time together.”

Modern life – modern ‘togetherness’.

Couch Potato, by Ian Fletcher

8/1/2017

Back from the office he chills out, feet up, six-pack by his side.

Turning on the TV with the remote he settles down, bag of popcorn in hand, for the Yankees-Red Sox match.

The lunchtime Big Mac with two large fries, strawberry sundae and apple pie, have provided more than ample calories for his sedentary day.

Yet tonight he still has an appetite so he phones for a pizza, “Double cheese. Oh yes, and add a large bottle of Coke, please.”

Thus the lazy stream of his life proceeds quite serenely, putting him right on track for a heart attack.

Anna, by Bobby Warner

7/1/2017

The bottle shattered on the wall beside Anna. Laughter, like sounds from Hell, made her tremble.

"Foreign girl," came their course voices, "come with us in the alley and pleasure us. That is all you are good for!"

How horrible, this new country and its barbarians. She had pleaded with her father a dozen times, but he would not budge. His job here paid too much to leave.

Anna turned and ran toward home, knowing she would have to put up with the unthinkable abuse here until she could find a way to escape and return to her own country.

It's Coming, by Russell Conover

7/1/2017

The town was bracing itself for the monster snowstorm. Four to seven inches were expected, and people were panicking.

“What are we gonna do?” Jill wailed.

“Well, the storm twenty years ago had had a big effect,” Ray reasoned.

“Wait. ‘Had had’ had been acceptable then?” Wanda cut in.

“Never!” Trent thundered. “If ‘had had’ had been OK, I never had had ‘had had’ as a phrase to use myself.”

“Forget this!” Sandra grumbled. “I’m going to hibernate--from the storm, and all this nutty language.”

Looks like the town’s tolerance of “had had ‘had had’” had reached its end.

The Birth, by Ann-Louise Truschel

7/1/2017

“The important thing is to stay calm, concentrate on deep breathing, think quiet thoughts, and anticipate the birth of your new baby with happiness.”

“But I’m frightened, Doctor. I understand that childbirth hurts a lot! What do I do when the pain starts?”

“In my experience, most mothers handle childbirth very well. If they’re uncomfortable, it normally doesn’t last long.”

“But, but, there are exceptions to the rule.”

“There can always be exceptions, but let’s not dwell on them. Attitude makes all the difference.”

“But I’m terrified!”

“Mr. Louis, don’t worry. Your wife will do fine. Just think calm thoughts.”

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Since Friday Flash Fiction began in September 2013, 100-word stories have remained its 'beating heart'.

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