Blog Archives - Friday Flash Fiction

Tiara's Shame, by Mark Tulin

18/2/2019

Fear startled Tiara from sleep while shame kept her awake.

She made sure not to disturb her husband as she slipped out the bedroom. She stooped in the dark hallway, feeling a heavy burden on her tiny shoulders. She wanted to get rid of it but didn’t know how. Her shame was thick with crimes of the heart.

The chickens had finally come home to roost, she thought.

Hours passed. The tears fell.

Soon the hopeful light of morning shone through the window, embracing Tiara’s face. The dawn of a new day weakened her shame enough for her to stand.

Second Childhood, by Archana Nagarajan

18/2/2019

“What shall we do today?” she asked.

“Icecream,” he chirped.

“We’re diabetic,” she reminded.

He frowned. “Walk to the park?”

It was her favorite activity. “Let’s take our checkers board,” she added.

“Yes,” he pumped a fist.

They set up the game on a stone bench beneath a shady tree.
They were missing 3 coins.

She handed him a quarter from her purse.

“Two more?” he asked.

“No.”

“Three quarters of my life I gave you and all you can give me in return is one quarter,” he quipped.

They laughed and went looking in the bushes for flat pebbles.

A Lonely Blue Box, by Jack Hilbourne

17/2/2019

As she walked down the street, she thought about the fleeting moment of joy that followed the disappearance of a stack of paper through the slot in the lonely blue box at the corner of the street.

When she arrived at the mailbox, she paused for a moment before letting go of a bundle of postcards in her hand. The muffled metallic clank gave her a sense of closure. Her work was done.

And there it was, the feeling of accomplishment that told her she had done something of value. The feeling that kept her coming back here every week.

The Celebrity Life, by Russell Conover

17/2/2019

Ever since they appeared in the very first Friday Flash Fiction story, Alice and her cat dodged the paparazzi and tried to live normal lives. Doing so, however, was difficult.

A trip to the store meant reporters barraging Alice with questions. A walk in the neighborhood resulted in throngs of people asking for autographs. The two were going crazy. All this attention for one little story?

But then, they remembered they were the ones who kicked off Friday Flash Fiction, over five years ago. They were pioneers. They grinned, high-fiving and high-pawing. They loved this life, frantic as it was.

Their Eyes Spoke, Guy Fletcher

16/2/2019

They spotted each other on a crowded street. Neither of them uttered a word; their eyes spoke.

Tom had cared for his wife when she was terminally ill but one evening had visited a pub in the town for a respite as his wife escaped in dreams.

This was the first chance encounter between himself and Julia, one of his wife's friends.

"I can't believe we did this," he lamented at Julia's flat.

"This is our dirty, dark secret," said Julia softly.

Everyone thought Tom was an angel. Oh, if only they knew!

Gone Fishing, by Kim Favors

16/2/2019

Mac would have enjoyed the attention.

At his beachside camper, grownups drank beer and retold stories — of his beloved dog, cheating ex-wife, and grown children who’d abandoned him.

On the pier, we kids remembered “Uncle Mac” as the fatherly ex-Marine who untangled our lines and grabbed flopping fish.

He spent afternoons mostly watching the horizon, rarely casting out.

“Don’t you fish, Uncle Mac?” I asked once.

“Every day, girl.”

They had found Mac, dead of heart failure, sitting upright on a bench at the pier. Some wondered why he hadn’t been fishing.

But he was.

He was fishing for memories.

A Wisterical Death, by Bill Engleson

15/2/2019

“It was a strange way to go, don’t you think?”

“Well, he was a wobbly old fellow towards the end. Took a tumble down some stairs a while back as I recall.”

“Didn’t know that. Always seemed…so darn erect.”

“I agree. He gave that impression. Probably strained to maintain that snooty self of his. Towards the end, I mean.”

“Snooty? That’s not how I would describe him. More…droll…slightly absurd.”

“He had his moments. Still, the way he went, tripping on a tendril, breaking his neck”

“So weird. Wisteria can be lethal…if not pruned.”

“I agree. Timely pruning can save lives.”

A Trip to the Theatre, by Kim Hare

15/2/2019

Deafening noises intrude violently into Sofia’s heavy, sluggish sleep. Slowly, a glaringly white, topsy turvy world emerges. Her body is paralyzed, pinned down by wires and tubes. Memory floods in and her mouth burns. She’s feverish for water, for answers.

“Bout time you woke.”

A face rears up, a nurse with a green-masked mouth.

“C’mon, let’s wheel you back to the ward now, and no trouble later, you hysterectomies are so demanding. I could do with a bloody lie down myself, my hip’s a nightmare, you’re lucky I’m in. Eh? A drink? Nope. We’re short-staffed, you’ll have to wait.”

Eugene, by Jane Briganti

15/2/2019

Eugene hesitated and took a deep breath in preparation. This was it! No backing out; all eyes were on him. He's been waiting for what seemed a lifetime. Rising from the bench he walked slowly toward the swings. There she was. Standing alone, waiting her turn, completely unaware of Eugene's approach. His breathing became shallow, his cheeks turned cherry red and his entire body shook with fear. Taking an even deeper breath he tapped Suzie on her shoulder. She turned around and smiled. Now standing face to face in front of twenty-eight other Kindergarteners, Eugene did it. He kissed her!

A Sorcerers Day, by John Cooper

15/2/2019

Although the night mist is still evaporating from the fields, they say today will be the first good one in weeks – we may even have some sunshine.

That will certainly make a change.

It’s been a harsh winter and trapped inside by the weeks of bad weather, I have hardly managed anything ‘practical’, just hit the books - day in, day out.

My professor will be pleased of course, but as my grandfather always said there is no substitute for the tangible when it comes to magic.

Yes - today is a day to cast spells in the real world.

As Time Goes By – by Fliss Zakaszewska

15/2/2019

“But Jilly says you want to marry me. Be Daddy to your kids. I’m not the marrying kind…”

Through gritted teeth, Damaris hissed, “Nor am I. I’m sick of hearing that. I don’t need a husband…”

“But…”

“…and as you prefer to believe her, Harry we’re through.”

Damaris smiled at her glass of wine. That’d been 30 years ago. The kids had done well. Daughter a lawyer, son, a pilot. Damaris herself, Head of IT.

Somehow, he’d found her. Harry touched her hand. “Well?”

She sighed. “Sorry no. Didn’t want to marry anyone then. Don’t want to marry anyone now.”

Together, by Bruce Levine

15/2/2019

His days were filled with happiness and it was simple to know why – she was there. They shared their time, their efforts and their loves – not just for each other, but for everything they did and cared about. It was a good life and every day was an adventure simply because neither knew what the day would bring – another project, another chance at the golden ring... In the end it didn’t matter because he had the golden ring and she was it. Their love for each other would sustain them through the ups and downs of life. They were together.

Crazy Life, by Henry Bladon

15/2/2019

It's a crazy life I lead, constantly spinning about, seemingly out of control. I'm always at the beck and call of others, and there seems to be little I can do about that. There are a few days when I get a rest of sorts, free from the manic screaming and the need to be perpetually moving. Normally, these are when things have gone wrong, or when it's particularly cold. There's not a lot you can do on a day like that.

I suppose I'll carry on, giving other people pleasure. That's what it means to be a fairground carousel.

Hallway, by Charity Jordi

15/2/2019

I can feel the hair on my neck stand up. Footsteps come closer. I check the door and a dark man seems to leak into the hallway. The steps cringe with every foot fall. My sense of fight or flight kicks in. I grab the nearest thing to me. A candle? I put it down and search the room and find my knife under the pillow. I clench my jaw. The door handle slowly turns. I stab him and run. Then something grabs me and yells my name. I open my eyes to mom telling me that breakfast is ready.

A Funny Thing Happened When They Got to the Forum, by Gordon Lawrie

15/2/2019

This is for Shakespeare fans and Roman historians.

15th February, 44 B.C.

Cassie and Cindy waited, impatient and angry in equal measure. They'd persuaded their boyfriends, big brutes called Mark and Declan, to come too.

"See Julia – see her?" Cassie growled, "I'm gonnae sort her proper."

An hour later there was no sign of Julia.

"Did she get the message, Cindy?" Cassie asked, irritated.

Cindy wasn't very bright. "I told her… The Forum, Ides of February, 3.00 p.m."

"Aw ya dope, the Ides are the 13th this month – dae yez no' ken that?"

"Saw-ree," flounced Cindy, sulkily. "There's always next month. Or it could wait till the Fall."

Trophy Husband, by Archana Nagarajan

15/2/2019

He wore an expensive suit and a cheap smile, with one arm around his wife’s waist and both eyes on the breasts of young ladies in the party. It irked him that not one of them was available to him anymore, but it also secretly pleased him that not one of them looked a day younger than his wife of two years. Botox was worth the dent it made in his wife’s bank account. It was a good thing she earned enough to cover both her expenses and his. It made tolerating her annoying grownup children a tad bit easier.

A Shave and a Haircut, by Marjan Sierhuis

14/2/2019

His sociable 90-year-old mother wants to see him today.

"It is important," says Enid over the phone offering no further details.

"Hello mother," says Larry as he greets her later that afternoon and waits for an explanation.

Her blue eyes sparkle with mischief as she stares at her 60-year-old son.

"Chuck and I are getting married next week."

Larry ponders on the 25-year age gap.

"I would like you to give me away."

"What would father say," he asks as he glances at the brass urn on the mantle.

"Get a shave and a haircut."

Gone with the Wind and Rain, by Fiona Jones

14/2/2019

When the wind slewed round to the southwest, Buddy White knew the fun was over. The brightness, the friendly, clement atmosphere, the crowds of children--all melted away before the blast.

For two days Buddy sweltered in the fierce, humid heat, visibly wilting, withering, shrinking. Then came the rain--scalding drops driven on waves of choking heat under turbulent grey layers of cloud.

When sunshine finally pierced through to the soggy, mudding grass and the thick, green spikes nudging up through the soil, Buddy White was gone. Dropping carrot, coal and scarf, he had left once more for milder climes.

Rekindled Valentines, by Nicky Johnson

14/2/2019

They weren’t snooping. When the diamond necklace was found, she was only searching for an aspirin in his work bag. He discovered the golden tie clip simply looking for a bandage in her yoga bag.
Now, across a partition of flickering candles, a low-cut dress exposed her welcoming chest, while a tailored suit adorned his frame. She gazed, commending the form-fitting garment sculpting his firm body, replacing the endless line of sweatsuits. He gawked, appreciating her sumptuous bosom, reliving past provocative displays.
Their lover’s gifts would bury a past as the two started over.

The Nemophilist, by Andrew C. Kidd

13/2/2019

The wide eyes of the moon stare down and spirited bright stars sit high above the treeline. Peter has been frantically clearing the leaf litter from the forest floor.

Around him are the mossy stumps of trees felled by winds of yesteryear. The once familiar wind filters through branches and whispers to him but he no longer recalls the voice.

He continues to sift through the bracken, bark and bole. Peter uses his weathered hands to work away at the top soil; loose pieces crumble and fragment around stained fingertips that push hard into deeper reaches.

Unpublished Data, by Sankar Chatterjee

13/2/2019

Prof. Watson entered into Musée d'Orsay (Paris), walked towards the painting of his interest, and looked intently. It was the most scandalous one when painted and mysterious due to anonymity of the lady therein.

Past year, he was allowed to gently swap cotton balls on various paintings of the same artist. Now, the analysis of paints used was back. He evaluated the skin-complexion with the available historic paintings of all the female-models in contemporary Paris. But, it only matched with his then-mistress Ms. Julia Betancourt.

Now, the knowledge took away all the mystery. He decided to keep his research unpublished.

All That Drama For Nothing, by Archana Nagarajan

11/2/2019

Auditioning for her school’s annual play, Sasha felt thrilled by the pin-drop silence which followed her performance.For weeks, she'd been secretly rehearsing despite her mom’s advice to ‘be realistic’.

Her drama teacher sat in the front row, her lips frozen in a small O. Then, nodding vigorously, she spoke into the microphone, “That certainly was a surprise, Sasha. Well done, dear.” And forgetting that the mic was still on, she turned to the other teachers and whispered, “But it wouldn’t do to have a plus-sized Cinderella, would it?”

Ssssshh warned the others but the damage was already done.

Chiroptera Therapy, by Mark Tulin

11/2/2019

It began as a typical session.

The patient shared.

I commented.

The patient shared some more.

Then the winged-creature arrived.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw it climb the sofa while my anxiety-ridden patient remembered a salient childhood memory, a clinical breakthrough.

I watched the bat inch behind her as the patient moved toward a resolution of a problem that had been haunting her for over a decade.

Thinking that the bat was a good omen, I kept silent as it rested on the middle shelf of my bookcase feeling quite proud of himself.

HOMESTEADER by K.E.V. Trocmet

10/2/2019

Solar panels installed...
Batteries charged... three hours... should be enough...
Only use the lamp by the couch...
Trim doors and windows...
Be sure the spring filled the cistern...
Cut three cords of firewood... hummm... fresh cut wood smells so good...
Love that crackling sound in the fireplace...
First snow should be here soon... .
Humm... so warm and cozy on the couch...
Wish I could veg-out like this forever...
Marsha..so pretty... instantly fell asleep lying on my lap... tough day for her...
She didn’t even drink her chocolate...
Her tummy is getting bigger...
Twins... whew... I’ll think about that tomorrow...

Task Avoidance, by Lisa Miller

10/2/2019

Can I load the dishwasher? I asked at a young age, unknowingly sealing my fate as the family’s lead dish cleaner. Holidays would never be the same.

Avoiding the task is where I am now. Waiting till the kids are asleep to put on my headphones — the loud music making the chore of doing dishes seemingly faster: a sparkling clean kitchen, my just reward.

Occasionally, I fantasize about dirty dishes disappearing down the drain. They are then replaced by new, of course. Or, build a tiny house to retire in without a kitchen. And live off pizzas from a box.

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