Blog Archives

Birthday Presence, by Candace Arthuria Williams

29/1/2021

“Mommy, look! He’s standing too close to the edge!”

Wendy, leave the nice man alone.

Cedric stepped back and asked Mrs. Chen, ‘Is it okay if we talk?’

I guess that would be all right, she smiled.

‘Peter Pan was my favorite book, Wendy. But China Doll suits you better.’

“What’s your name?”

‘Cedric.’

“Today’s my birthday, Mr. Cedric. Daddy’s going to meet us after work. Aren’t you getting on the train?”

‘Not today, Wendy. I’m leaving all the fun for you.’

“Thank you….and be careful. Goodbye!”

Cedric stared at the tracks through his tears. ‘Not today. It’s Wendy’s birthday.’

Funny FFF-ers, by Andrew Carter

29/1/2021

Poster: Paul Stone Art

A writer suspects some of the other Friday Flash Fiction writers are writing about himself. They write about self-sacrifice, kindness, humility, murder, debauchery, rape, torture, theft, and larceny.

He recognizes the potential for some of these. Hell, he even done some. Wracked by fear, he also suspects certain people submit multiple entries to get at him.

Exasperated, he consults his psychiatrist. The shrink rolls his eyes exclaiming, “You’re paranoid, you’re a writer.”

Unable to accept “writer” is a mental health issue, he researches.

Flash Gordon confesses he did indeed submit multiple entries after discovering he suffers -- Multiple Personae Disorder.

Phoenixes, by Michael J. Leach

29/1/2021

I curse myself for forgetting to pack a paperback in my carry-on baggage. Rather than reading, I gaze out an oval window at the topography stretching out some 35,000 feet below. Colourful paddocks and trees cover flat terrain, recalling the rural area I just left behind. I consider how, burnt by losses, I had recently decided to relocate interstate for a fresh start. I am still unsure of my decision.

As the passenger plane starts to descend, scorched earth and skeletons of trees come into view. I picture winged seeds arising from blazing eucalypts to ride airstreams to neighbouring lands.

Wise Counsel, by Sandra James

29/1/2021

‘He’s driving me crazy,’ she told the counsellor. She detailed the long list of his idiosyncrasies, annoying habits, and inconsiderate behaviours. ‘I don’t know what to do. He’s changed so much and my rose-coloured glasses are shattered.’

‘Ah,’ said the counsellor. ‘You need to join Friday Flash Fiction. Let him inspire murder stories. You’ll hypothetically kill him off every week and let it all out.’

Alas, it wasn’t enough. The list was far too long.

And so… Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Saturday and Sunday Flash Fiction sites were born.

Rejection, by Pamela Kennedy

29/1/2021

Rejection is nothing new to me. It has greeted me more times than I care to remember. But that's OK...Perhaps it has made me a stronger person, rich in wisdom. Get real, rejection has left me feeling like a failure with a very bruised ego.

Imagine my horror this week when a revelation came about...it wasn't my work nor my dated device that caused erratic acceptances of my stories. This truth was told - the computer didn't like me! OUCH! I was heartbroken and inconsolable. Some day I may get over it...some day...maybe.....

Let Me See, by Russell Conover

29/1/2021

“Hey. What’s that in your hand?” Jack questioned.

Ron clamped his hand shut. “Nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

Jack’s eyebrows raised. “OK, dude. What are you hiding?”

Ron sighed. “You really want to know? Fine.”

He opened his hand. Jack leaned forward, staring, but he saw nothing. He frowned.

Then a beam of light shot from Ron’s hand, striking Jack directly in the face. He rocked backwards, soon losing his vision. “What the?” But it was too late. Ron had transported him into another dimension.

Ron peeled back the human mask covering his blue alien face. “Perfect. Another new prisoner.”

Storm Damage, by Christopher Alden

29/1/2021

After the burial, he wept upon his wife’s headstone, feeling himself shrunken, reduced by half. Fifty years of unshakeable marriage severed when the old oak tree crashed through their bedroom roof, uprooted by the fury winds of a hurricane originating in an ocean he did not know or care about.

All his decisions were singular now. Should he rebuild or relocate? Disaster Relief had set up a hotline for survivors. He called but there were no answers.

The Apologetic Hunter, by Sivan Pillai

29/1/2021

The hawk circled high in the sky, her sharp eyes looking for prey. Her eyases were in the nest, crying for food.

A faint movement on the ground caught her attention. It was a mother hen and her chicks scratching the earth for worms. The chicks looked as young as her eyases.

She dove suddenly, pinned the hen to the ground, and took off with the prey in her claws. She was sorry for the chicks, just as the eagle would have been for her young ones if it got a chance, but hunger dominated emotions in the wild.

Looking Up From The Depths, by Jonathan Hunter

29/1/2021

Life appeared in my hands. Gliding along the waters, sun glistening off the surface, life ebbed along.

The fall I never saw. Light to darkness. Freedom to being trapped. Time became an enigma. Days were like hours, but months like lifetimes.

All alone, I held onto my happier memories when only the darkness and fever accompanied me.

Specks of light above offered me rays of hope. I forever envisaged an escape from the tunnels of darkness.

Still trapped now, the hope of the blossoms of a new spring in life drive me on.

Keep Away From Tobacco, by Rafiq Ebrahim

29/1/2021

An Englishman visiting Pakistan was invited by a village chief to his ancestral home. After a sumptuous dinner, he and the host sprawled on a thick, soft carpet. A domestic help brought two hookas, placed them at a far end of the room and lit the tobacco... Their long pliable tubes, carrying the smoke that passed through water, reached them to inhale.

He was wondering as to why the hookas were placed at such a long distance. The host pointed out, “We should remain as far away as possible from tobacco!”

Equal in Death, by Guy Fletcher

29/1/2021

"Everything is ruined, I guess we're equal now," the rich man lamented.

"All my family have perished, you're all I have," replied his slave.

Then a thunderous explosion occurred a day after the initial eruption on Mount Vesuvius. They were now indeed both equal for death does not spare anyone, whether a beggar or a king.

Many centuries later their ash-encased bodies were on view to a world where the power of nature was still as potent.

The Esteemed Leader, by Marjan Sierhuis

29/1/2021

“Buckle up, everyone,” says the melodious voice of the esteemed leader. He adjusts his baseball cap with the initials GL. He then checks the instruction manual one last time. Following a few false starts, the rocket is on its way.

He smiles over at his prolific writers like a proud father. He feels stoked to be in their presence and keen to venture into uncharted waters. Eager to leave the pandemic behind.

He hopes the new world will stimulate everyone’s creative juices. After all, the FFF contest looms on the horizon. He will prepare the flock.

A Candle of Light, by Olga Bogachek

29/1/2021

In the Orthodox church of All Grieving Joy he was praying for the health of his sick wife Vera. He delicately melted the bottom of a thin candle above the fire and placed it on the chandelier in front of the Virgin Healer icon. The candle folded in half.

“Such a bad sign, dear,” murmured someone.

His massive hands kept pressing the candle in, melting it further. For a moment he thought the slim fragile piece of wax had found its balance. He stepped away from the icon. His candle tilted and fell down. The phone rang: Vera had died.

Different, by Kim Favors

29/1/2021

I tried to forget the times my mother told me, coldly, “You’re not like other kids — you’re different.”

The memories resurfaced after my newspaper’s city editor assigned a story about a program for special teens.

When I arrived at the community center there was a young man outside. Maybe 17. Moved shakily, some drool. Cerebral palsy?

I smiled, nodded, then deliberately turned away.

Moments later, a tap on my shoulder.

“I was waiting for you.”

“I’m sorry. Are you with the group? I didn’t realize.”

He grinned and offered me his arm. We walked in together.

Both of us beaming.

One to the Millionth Part… A Story for the British Reader, by Fliss Zakaszewska

29/1/2021

The dishwasher was on; I held the last clean knife, buttered my toast and spread my favourite gooey paste on it then made some toast for Dan. Buttered toast, just as he liked it.

I looked at the knife. “Damned, can I be bothered to hand-wash it? Nope.” Sliding the knife against a finger to remove all residue, I then spread butter on his toast. Lastly, I washed my hands.

I smiled sweetly and handed the buttered toast to my son. He wouldn’t notice, surely?

Silence, then… “MUM! You put Marmite on my toast, I know you did…”

Tuesday Afternoon, by Mark Tulin

29/1/2021

It is a Tuesday afternoon in May on our peaceful street. We are making love in my bedroom, while I have one eye on you and the other on the time. I know this romantic encounter is temporary, and in a few minutes, I’ll gaze out the window, watching you walk home to resume your bright and cheery life. You greet your kids at the bus stop, embracing your husband when he steps through the door as if nothing had changed. And in my dark house, I look at the clock, laboring out of bed as if having a hangover.

Devoted, by Janice Siderius

29/1/2021

Bella looks at me with her brown eyes, following my every move as I walk around the kitchen. If I leave the room for a few minutes, she follows me.

In the evenings Bella sits by my side while I watch television. At bedtime, she snuggles up close to my side for warmth and security.

When we go out, she wants to be in the car with me. And if I go alone, Bella is always there to welcome me home with a kiss. She never complains about the times I am late. She is devoted; she is my dog.

The Falling Sky, by Jennifer Duncan

29/1/2021

Ever since he could remember, Matt had heard that the sky was going to fall.

One cloudy day, he began his trek to school. Suddenly, a mist materialized around him. The clouds were plummeting. The sky was crashing down. He started to run but the fog grew so thick he couldn't see. He cried out in terror. He was going to die. In agony, he stumbled and fell.

Prostrate, trembling, eternity later, he felt a gentle breeze nudging him. Nervously, he peeked up at the sky.

The fog was gone. The sky was azure blue. The sun was shining.

Forfeiture, by Sue Clayton

29/1/2021

I rub the vintage brass lamp. Sure enough out snakes a genie.

“You get one wish. Don’t believe fairy tales that say you get three…that’s fake news,” he smirks. “You’ve got exactly one minute to decide; after that I’ll be long gone.”

The genie adjusts his gaudy turban while I mumble under my breath.

“Your wish is my command,” he waves a taloned hand. “For the rest of your life you’ll speculate daily on how you forfeited your heart’s desire.”

He vanishes in a puff of smoke having heard my inaudible words…

“…wish I had more time to decide.”

Fatal Absorption, by Swapan K Banerjee

29/1/2021

The train was about to arrive. I went to station bookstall looking for the day’s paper.

One hand clutching the daily, the other pulling a trolley, I sat on a bleacher with difficulty. There’s hardly any space anywhere, so crowded was the platform with people returning to Kolkata from Puri.

I became abstracted just as I eyed a review of my book in weekend supplement.

When I finished reading it, I found myself sitting alone. Passengers had already boarded the train whose arrival went unnoticed by me. The train was pulling out of the station.

I broke into a gallop…

Woo Woo Cars, by Brian Taylor

29/1/2021

When Jimmy was five he called police cars, woo woo cars.

"Woo woo car, Mama!" He'd cry excitedly if he heard one. She thought it was cute.

Of course, he got older and learned they weren't exciting or cute, but bring fear and change. Like now, as he speeds down the highway, four sirens and four sets of lights chasing him.

Rejected and hurt, he'd shot his ex, her new boyfriend, and the boyfriend's young son. He regrets all three now, especially the boy. Not that it matters.

"Woo woo," he whispers, as he accelerates. The end is close now.

Abrupt Ending, by Marcelo Medone

29/1/2021

The literature teacher looked up from his desk and addressed the class.

"Any questions?"

A young man in the back row got up and strode forward.

"Yes. Are you against abrupt endings?"

The teacher hesitated, noticing the aggressiveness in the manner of his eager student.

"No, absolutely not. It all depends on the context."

"The context is this!" The young man exclaimed, as he took out a revolver and fired six shots at the stunned teacher.

Then he smiled, looked everyone in the eye and proclaimed, "Did you write everything down? I'll walk around and I'll take you an exam."

Insomnia, by M. Jay Dixit

29/1/2021

At first, he thought it was a big rat, trundling behind his bedroom walls. But soon he stopped fooling himself. They were coughs. His dead wife had coughed like that near the end, he knew their violent pitch by heart.

He got up from the bed, dislodged the bricks and took a peek inside. Just for a moment he really saw her, as clear as stars in a winter night, in her hospital gown coughing blood, his heart a triphammer and then she was gone and there was nothing behind the wall except a space where the wind whistles.

Let That Be a Lesson, by Gordon Lawrie

29/1/2021

It began innocently enough with a story about a man and lame horse in New Mexico. He even sent a photo and short biography. But then the next day another story arrived, about a woman who wore too much makeup. A little homework revealed that both stories had been published elsewhere a year earlier.

I wrote warning him off, and didn't hear from him for months. Then suddenly, from nowhere, more stories appeared. They seemed original, but each had been posted under pseudonyms on other sites. I'd had enough.

You won't find any sign of him now. Nowhere at all.

The Trouble with Pets, by Jennifer Lai

29/1/2021

“No dragons allowed in the restaurant,” the hostess said, pointing at the sign.

“But Vogad is my emotional support animal,” I said loudly, handing her my business card. “You can’t discriminate against him.”

The hostess shushed me. “Perhaps I’ll seat you on the patio then, where it’s more spacious.”

I peered over her shoulder towards the live band. “Actually, I’d like to sit in the back, near the music.”

Just then, a large flame rose out of Vogad’s nostrils.

Blushing, I quickly turn to the hostess. “On second thought, the patio will be just fine. It’s a smoking section, right?”

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"Classic"
100-Word
Stories

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

Normally, 100-word stories are scheduled for 07.00 BST (GMT in the winter) on the following Friday. However, where a large number of stories (more than 25) are due to be published on the same day, we publish a second batch around 10.30am.

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"Classic"
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