Consider it done, he thought, but kept going. Dark autumn night was blanketing the sky, trees lost their bright colours. After the huge anthill he turned left and almost lost his balance. There were remains of huge moose, and he suddenly realised that his tired feet were mingled with the bones of the rear of the beast. Sweetsour stench of the carcass curled in the back of his mouth and he had to throw up, so violently that he tripped and fell over the antlers. One spike tore his throat. Nature has no morals, he thought. And then came ants.
There's a background to this one. The original LinkedIn thread – to which so many of there are posted – has been playing up, apparently refusing to accept comments and "Likes". It can be a little fru
Dishes waited in the sink. The aroma of potato pancakes lingered in the room. She needed to leave her computer, tidy the kitchen, make a phone call. Instead she wrote back to her “first reader,” thanking her for suggestions, defending her decision to leave the ending a bit unresolved. Life is like that, she thought, as she went on to the next email. She smiled at the latest installment of a 100 word story, then frowned as a new window opened. There was that damn red banner again. “Your attempt to like this item failed. Please try again.”
Sometimes, Beulah missed the loneliness of her first days in town. Now Carlos was always coming around. When she and her Doberman, Flora, took an evening walk, he “just happened” to run into them.
He sometimes brought Beulah wine, flowers or take-out for dinner. It might have been flattering, but it was all too evident who he came to see. “Who’s a good dog, then?” Unfailingly, he had a treat in his pocket. And Flora, who had always been somewhat aloof to anyone but Beulah, obviously returned his affection.
It was enough to make Beulah think of getting a cat.
Four of us sat down round the table: two female lawyers from Park Catering Company, my lawyer, and me. Bizarrely, one of the women from Park produced a teddy bear and placed it on the table. A lucky charm, perhaps?
I quickly realised that we’d seriously misread the meeting’s dynamic when the bear began to speak, in a southern drawl.
“So ya wanna layona picnic?”
“Sandwiches, canapes, quiches, that sort of thing,” I explained.
The bear chewed gum. “Quiches? Hmm...” His lawyers held their breath.
“OK,” the bear said, to everyone’s relief.
We celebrated with tea. The bear had honey.
Lucy timidly eyed Tom pacing up and down the bedroom. He’d startled her. The thunderous look on his face made her cringe with fear. He moved towards her.
No more afternoon tea with Doris. I want my dinner when I get home and I want it on time!
Slamming the door, he stormed out.
Relieved, Lucy sighed. She’d actually been more frightened of being caught. She pulled out the notes and counted the day’s earnings. Doris was a darling to cover up for her while she secretly ran her hairdressing business. She’d soon be able to leave Tom.
Surly and hung-over the waitress poured him a full cup of coffee and took the brute’s order. The man she served was oblivious to the fact that his waitress was a full cup of seething self hatred for her dead end life, men in general, and in particular the trucker she’d fucked in cab of his truck last night.
Winton could taste the suffocating presence of death coming from where they were across the diner. He saw the waitress’s prayers for self-destruction blinking in the madman’s face like a frenzied neon sign begging the brut to: KILL ME- KILL ME – KILL ME.
Winton could tell that she was clueless to the fact that she was praying for death at the altar of the murderously insane.
I feel like we’ve been wandering around aimlessly forever. I don’t recognize anything, and I have no idea where we are. But, according to my husband, we are NOT lost.
And the kids! If I hear, “Are we there yet?” one more time, I swear …!
Thankfully we have enough to eat and drink, but I’m tired of walking, and I want to get where we’re going before I die of old age.
Wait! I see a caravan coming. Where’s my husband? There he is!
“Will you PLEASE stop and ask for directions this time, Moses?
Percy shuffled his feet. Why were their bottoms burning? Why was it so hot? Where was his colony? And what were all those odd creatures? No ice, no snow, no ocean was in sight. The sky was covered, and something blocked any view of the horizon. Percy was confused and afraid. He had been explaining his latest epic to his crèche mates. Suddenly he found himself in this strange torrid space.
Far to the south under a very low sun, another Percy shivered fearfully. Was this a dream? The cold was rapidly becoming painful.
Loki chuckled, amused at his prank.
Shirley was at her locker, stowing books, retrieving others. Tom walked toward her with newly acquired confidence.
“Okay, keep Friday night open. I got the tickets.”
She looked at him as if she’d never seen him before. “What do you mean? What tickets?”
“Yesterday, when I was standing next to you just before you got on the bus to go home, I asked you if you’d like to go to the Spring Play. You said, ‘Yeah, sure.’ So I got the tickets.”
“Oh, Tom,” she said, sighing. “I didn’t mean with you.” She slammed her locker shut and walked away.
“Wow--already Friday again, isn’t it?” Tom mused.
“Indeed,” Crystal responded. “And you know what that means ...”
“Time for more Friday Flash Fiction!”
Crystal sighed. “Thing is, I have zero good ideas.”
“Well, what’s your passion? What really makes you happy?”
“Helping people. Definitely.”
“So, could you write a story about that?” Tom questioned.
“Well, sure, but how would it be something unique and interesting?”
Tom smiled. “How would you most like to help people?”
Crystal’s eyes lit up. “Why, with writing Flash Fiction stories!”
She headed to her computer, ideas churning through her brain.