Blog Archives

Buddy, by Laura Ogryzko

30/3/2015

Bones protruded from the soil; dry and yellowing -- they’d been there a long time, decades probably.

“What is it?”

Mum pestered from her wheel-chair, she was planted at the top of the garden like a shrub.

“Just lot’s of weeds, mum.”

A set of teeth, a tiny skull, a worm wriggling in an eye socket.

“Don’t over water the marigolds this time!”

I resurrected a tattered old collar, the name tag hanging from it like new.

A lump choked my throat like the weeds choked the hyacinths.

“But you told me Buddy went to live on Mr. Benson’s farm!”

Bait And Switch, by Ann-Louise Truschel

30/3/2015

“I want my money back!” said the red-faced man.

“Sir, all sales are final,” answered the suave, well-dressed salesman.

“But ... but you misrepresented the real estate,” the irate man spluttered.

“Not at the time, and the price, well, the price was dirt cheap, if I can use that cliché term,” replied the salesman with a pompous look.

“Dirt cheap? More like cheap dirt!”

“My dear sir,” argued the salesman, “I had NO idea they would downgrade Pluto’s status.”

“I don’t care! You sold me a planet. I demand a planet, or I’ll punch you in your scaly green nose!”

Meanwhile, In A Stateroom, by Jan Jorgensen

28/3/2015

Angelica has been seething all day. Unfortunately any awareness of anger is deeply buried. It manifests in a melancholy listlessness which makes it difficult for me to sit on her lap. In such moods she leaps to her feet without warning. This morning I fell with a thud, there was no time for my habitually graceful descent. I try to be patient with her, but she complains when I tenderly knead her abdomen, and tells me to stop.

Alas, I must help her get in touch with her anger.

Mmmm, shall I knock over her glass or bite her hand?

Jumping Jack, by Alison McHarg

27/3/2015

Stamping, snorting, ears flicking backwards, he’s listening. Mane dark as treacle but a brilliant white star and three knee-high white socks. Three white feet, don’t buy him, the old horseman’s rhyme warned.

With these troublesome feet and a huge heart, we’d cleared the coloured poles and shared so many triumphs. Rosettes and the memories still fresh – those victory laps and cheering crowds.

Today, I recall these glories aloud as I groom him, noting that swelling hock. I saddle him and trotting stiffly he arches his neck and still thinks he’s a star. I let him believe it.

Destination, by Jane Reid

27/3/2015

“I don’t want to go to Pluto,” whined Belinda. “I want to go to a real planet.”
“Now dear, I explained,” her mother said. “Daddy’s business was down and we couldn’t afford a real planet.”
“Why couldn’t we just go to the moon?”
“Why indeed?” her father muttered.
“There’s nothing to do Pluto,” wailed Belinda. “All my friends are going to the moon.”
“If all your friends went to the garbage dump, would you want to go there?” asked her mother.
“Yes,” shouted the child, kicking the seat ahead.
Its passenger, a genie, turned. “And so you shall,” he said.

The Quest, by Emma Baird

27/3/2015

So if we get to Pluto, we’ll find the secret to longevity, return to earth with it and benefit the multitudes?

That’s it in a nutshell. Meanwhile, we have seven-odd months to think about whether it’s worth our while.

You’re joking? We must. We could stop ebola, for instance.

But earth’s resources, remember? How will the planet support all those octogenarians, nonagenarians and centenarians?

Hmm, see what you mean! Tricky.

Mind you, there’ll always be the people willing to wipe out others – random terrorists, despots, unstable co-pilots and all that.

Our quest is still on, then?

I’d say so…

Picture thanks to flickr.

Holiday Flight, by Gordon Lawrie

27/3/2015

"I've got cramp," Bert grumbled to Matilda. "Considering what we spent on the tickets, you'd think we'd get more leg-room."

"I tried to get seats beside the emergency exit, but they'd already gone," she replied. "Do you think we're too late to upgrade to club class?"

"I don't think Virgin Interplanetary does club class, dear. Branson only does low-cost flights."

"How long to go?"

"Another seven months three weeks and we'll be on Mars sitting by the shores of Hawking Sea, reading our books."

"That's a lovely thought, Bert. Meantime, could you try to get me another gin and tonic?"

Bad Weather, by Bobby Warner

26/3/2015

Laura looked out the living room window, then called to John:

"Look outside, dear. I know it's awfully warm, but I think--I think it's snowing!"

"No, hon," he called, his voice hardly above a whisper. "It isn't snow. It's smoke and ash. Something's burning."

"Well, for heaven's sake what is it? A forest fire?"

"No. Nothing as small as that. My God, Laura--it looks like the whole world is on fire and burning!"

Finals, by Russell Conover

21/3/2015

“Ugh--my head’s going to explode from all this studying!” Amy rubbed her eyes.

Wes, her friend, put his hand to his head. “I know. We’ve been up all night reviewing for finals tomorrow, and I still barely remember anything.”

She looked determined. “OK. Let’s start easy. What’s your cat’s name?”

“That’s easy! It’s, uh ... well ...” Wes stuttered, looking embarrassed.

“Really? Can’t even remember that?” she smiled.

“Well, what’s your brother’s name?” he retorted.

She nodded. “Piece of cake. It’s, well ... uh ...”

They eyed each other in dismay.

“All right. College has ruined us. Time for a trip to Tahiti.”

Reach For The Sky, by Alison McHarg

21/3/2015

Solar flares, coronas and diamond rings – could this be a Versace catwalk show they’re discussing?

A natural phenomenon described in the language of consumerism all while wearing weird glasses and from a chilly, crepuscular hillside in the Hebrides, not Milan or Paris. School children clustered around a colander but not a salad leaf in sight.

We’ve had spectacular Northern Lights spilling greens, purples and oranges across our evening skies and even a meteor hurtling past in fiery brilliance.

At ground level it’s far more mundane. Cold, wet and dull.

Wish the sun would come out.

Opening Night, by Bobby Warner

21/3/2015

Paul Weldon was glad that opening night had arrived for his restaurant, which he called The Raven. There was a Raven Room and several private dining niches dubbed Ravenettes. He featured French, Southern, Italian, and even Chinese cuisine, hoping to please everyone.

A few minutes before Opening Hour, Mrs. Weldon said, "Paul, we've got the Raven Special, the Men Ravens' Room, the Lady Ravens' Room, and everything is in the Raven motif. Is there anything else we could call Raven?"

Thinking it over, he decided that they already had too much Raven, so he shook his head and replied: "NEVERMORE!"

Nocturne, by Jane Reid

21/3/2015

I dreamed I was in a house that seemed familiar, but not quite. I had an appointment; it was time to leave. I headed toward the door. But I didn’t find it, instead, another hall opened and I was back in another familiar room. I walked toward where another door should be, but it led to a completely closed-in porch. Puzzled, I looked out a window. The surrounding garden shrubs and nearby buildings were not what I expected to see.
It was getting later. If I missed this appointment . . .
I didn’t know why, but I was very afraid.

The Girlfriend, by Ann-Louise Truschel

21/3/2015

Laura was so needy; she would do anything I wanted. It was great while it lasted, but one day she insisted I leave my wife. A career-ender in a small town like this.

I met her on the mountain, knocked her out, put her in her car and turned on the ignition. The vehicle drifted down the steep road and went off the cliff at the first turn.

It took them weeks to find her.

They’re recovering the body now.

I hear a deputy say,” Sheriff, I found her purse. Want to check for ID?”

Age-Old Argument, by Tammy Mezera

21/3/2015

Spring came, every tree birthed blue leaves. The news warned people not to touch the trees. A woman observed a squirrel climbing one and it turned orange. She thought it peculiar and touched the tree, turning purple from head to toe. She asked her husband to touch the tree. He did and turned completely yellow. When the CDC arrived, they asked them why they did that. The man said, 'blame it on her, Adam did'. She said, 'It worked too, for all I've been through I have never seen him sweat a day in his life from work'.

100-Word Moan, by Amy Friedman

21/3/2015

“You have to be more careful how you spend.”
“Now that you’re the one with the income you think you run things?”
“No, I’m trying to manage things so that our money stretches and lasts through your unemployment.”
“No, you just think you’re in charge. As usual, I have no say in anything. And you’re such a cheapskate that you want us to spend as if we’re in the poorhouse.”
“This is not a conversation I want to have out in the open.”
“Nothing I say or do matters. I might as well just put a bullet through my head.”

Uneclipse, by Gordon Lawrie

21/3/2015

The child grumbled. "What's so special about a total uneclipse?"

His mother sighed. "I'll explain again. We live on Pluto, right on the edge of the solar system. Other stuff – planets, moons, asteroids, Saturn's rings – keep blocking out the sun, which we actually orbit. We only see the sun in rare uneclipses."

Suddenly, the sky was lit by the brightest thing either of them had ever seen; the distant sun transformed even Pluto in a wondrous light-show. Just fourteen dazzling minutes later it was over.

"So? That's it?" the child said. "Can I please go back to my Playstation now?"

Thick-Skinned, by Emma Baird

20/3/2015

Peeping above the parapet, Louise ducked as a missile whizzed past. She’d never expected to have to dodge so many of them.

“Here,” said a voice behind her. “This’ll help.”

A helmet was jammed on her head and Louise turned to say thanks. Behind her, a familiar face smiled jauntily.

“Best get used to it dear!” the woman chortled. “The helmet will help, but some missiles will get under it and they’ll really sting.”

Behind the woman, she could see people – rather more than the missiles coming at her. “We’re the ones who count,” the woman added. “Just remember that.”

Plutonian Groundhog Day, by Amy Friedman

16/3/2015

A debate on the definition of "Friday" (bearing in mind differing time zones) prompted this return to an old friend, namely poor old Pluto.

Moommmmmm! When’s it going to be Saturday?
Next week.
How come?
You know each Pluto day is an Earth week.
No, it’s not! Teacher says it’s less than six and a half days.
Uh-huh. Just be glad you don’t have to keep Plutonian years.
Why?
247.7 Earth years to one Plutonian year?
So?
You’d be in fifth grade forever.
No vacations?
Nope. It would take more than 100 years just to get to July.
So when’s Saturday?
Go take a look at the calendar.
Aw man. It says Friday – it was Friday yesterday!
And it will be Friday tomorrow.
Mommmmmmmmmmm!

Five Hundred And Three Likes, by Jo Oldani-Osborne

14/3/2015

Deirdre clicked on the icon for Face Book with thoughtful disdain.

‘Don’t people have better things to do with their lives than to post a picture of what they had for lunch – Wow! That burrito James posted looks really good. I had no idea the new Mexican restaurant had that much potential,’ she thought as she forwarded the post to her husband, Bill.

“Look how James spends his time at work, “ she wrote in the private exchange.

“Wow,” he replied quickly, “That looks awesome.”

“Right?” she shot back at him.

“Pick you up in five.”

Stupid Face Book.

How My Career Began, by Bobby Warner

14/3/2015

My father was from Sicily, so naturally some figured I was "connected"--you know what I mean.

Finally, the jokes became sincere offers; I accepted an easy job for $200,000.00 in cash. They even furnished the untraceable gun.

When I told Vito, my best friend, he gave me a chewing out. "You do this, Sal, and they got you forever!"

When Vito turned to walk away, I shot him in the back of the head. It was the hardest hit I'll ever make. And that's the way my career began: In God's own deep sadness and sorrow.

Payback, by Russell Conover

14/3/2015

“I see ominous things in your future.” The psychic shook her head.

Randy laughed. “C’mon--this ‘tell your future’ stuff isn’t real, is it?”

POP! A flash of light blinded him, and he lost his vision. Nothing in sight anywhere.

“What happened? Where am I?” He was starting to panic.

When he could see again, he stumbled in confusion. He had four legs and a tail, and his head was eight feet above his body! Not only that, he was yellow-orange, and starving for some fresh grass.

“Last time I make faces at the zoo giraffes. They’re on to me.”

Electronic Cobalt, by Gordon Lawrie

13/3/2015

An explanation: the author felt challenged to write one or two 100-word stories, each beginning with the words 'They'd brought some electronic cobalt'. In the end he produced six...

1. A PRIVATE SHOW

They'd brought a little electromagnetic cobalt.

"Oh how kind, Ann," Louise said, taking the small box. "Mark will take your coat and Jack's."

Meanwhile, Jack handed over a bottle of dolcetto from his own cellar.

"You know what to do with it?" Ann asked Louise anxiously.

"Oh yes, don't worry."

They had a wonderful evening. Smoked salmon and mackerel terrine, venison fillet, then orange creme brulee.

Later, Louise placed the cobalt in a vase, covered it with vinegar, and placed it on a table. Together, they sat silently in the darkness, drinking the dolcetto and watching their own private aurora.

2. IN THE DUNGEON

They'd brought a little electromagnetic cobalt.

"No!" she screamed. "Anything but the electromagnetic cobalt!"

Her torturers grinned. "Nobody expects the electromagnetic cobalt," the taller one said, smugly.

Still shackled, she despaired. She'd survived beatings, sleep deprivation, the rack, and endless re-runs of Top Gear. She'd been trained to deal with these and more, so she hadn't given cracked. But electromagnetic cobalt was another matter.

Moments later, the substance was applied to her hands and feet. She didn't hold out for long.

"OK, I admit it," she said. "I voted for Bush in 2000."

"I knew it," the smaller man said.

3. ASTOUNDING

"They'd brought a little electromagnetic cobalt," Holmes announced.

"Astounding, Holmes!" Watson exclaimed. "But how –?"

"Elementary, Watson. The material was electromagnetic, and it was cobalt. Therefore, logic suggests it was electromagnetic cobalt."

"Astounding!" Watson twirled his moustache in wonder. "But why –?"

Suddenly, Holmes spotted a small, already-opened box on the dining-table, addressed to himself. "Ha!"

"For you, Holmes! Astounding! But –?"

Holmes was on a roll. "Mrs Hudson! Who brought this?" The housekeeper appeared immediately.

" Mr 'Olmes, those delivery men brung that electromagnetic cobalt you ordered last week. You forgot already?"

Holmes preened. "You see, Watson? Elementary!"

"Astounding!"

4. ABOARD THE U. S. S. ENTERPRISE

They'd brought a little electromagnetic cobalt to fuel the engines, the refit's final stage. Scotty was beside himself.

"Captain, I'm warning you! The Enterprise won't be the same without dilithium crystals!"

Kirk smiled. "Nonsense, Scotty, we've got to move on. Dilithium crystals cause universal warming, electromagnetic cobalt's the greener option. Four million light years per teaspoon, zero to warp speed in three seconds." He sat back in his seat. "OK, engines to warp speed!"

The Enterprise spluttered to a halt. Scotty reached for the owner's manual. "Captain... I think they put in four-star electromagnetic cobalt."

"So?"

"This is a diesel."

5. THE FOUR GIFTS

They'd brought a little electromagnetic cobalt. At the door, however, they met three shepherds who were just leaving.

"Hey, Your Majesties, whatya brought?" said one.

The kings proudly displayed their cobalt. One explained, "Hang it above the cot and its light shines."

The shepherds frowned. "Emm... nice, but they need practical stuff. Baby lotion. Something sweet-smelling – it's a manger after all. Some hard cash – it costs a fortune to raise kids nowadays."

Fortunately, the local supermarket had a couple of things, as well as a gold-dispensing machine. The kings left the cobalt too, but no-one ever discovered who brought it.

6. IN THE BEGINNING

They'd brought a little electromagnetic cobalt: tiny particles, not in themselves significant because the real stars of the process were hydrogen, oxygen, carbon, nitrogen and phosphorus atoms. But critical players all the same.

Across the universe there were thousands, perhaps millions, of equally suitable deserts, just waiting for something to happen. But that special solar storm, surging as it did with radioactive power and subatomic protons, carried that little piece of the jigsaw needed to kickstart the process. Those elements – in the presence of electromagnetic cobalt – formed an acid, specifically deoxyribonucleic acid.

And in that moment life on Earth began.

The Worst Part Of Waking Up, by Amy Friedman

13/3/2015

Jana jammed her eyes shut. Who calls at 6 am? Unable to resist, she lifted the blanket covering her head and glanced at the phone. No “Missed Call” on the display. She rolled over, sighing, and snuggled up to her husband.

“You gotta get up, honey,” he mumbled.

“Yeah, I know,” she said, burrowing deeper into his shoulder. “Hey – did you hear something ring?”

“I set the alarm for you,” he said. “I knew you weren’t going to bother setting yours.”

“Mine broke weeks ago,” she said.

He laughed. “See?”

Against her will, a chuckle escaped. “OK, I’ll get up.”

Remembrance Of Times Past, by Jane Tulloch

13/3/2015

“There was that time you stole my lunch at work.”

“It was for your own good”

“ I was really looking forward to it. There was chocolate cake and crisps as well as two rounds of egg mayonnaise sandwiches.”

“For God's sake it was ten years ago.”

“That's not the point. You took four cup cakes from my desk drawer in 2007”

“What is wrong with you? That was ages ago.”

“ In 2010 you took my spare banana and backup Twix”

“ It's true what they say.”

“What?”

“An elephant never forgets!"

Whirlwind Romance, by Emma Baird

13/3/2015

It had been a whirlwind romance.

She met him via an online dating site (daterichbirds.com). Several flurried emails and steamy phone calls later, he had proposed.

The phone calls were via Skype, so she was safe right?

Indeed, in person look like he did on Skype. And his conversation in person was no less thrilling than his virtual attempts.

Her children were not thrilled. A month later and mama was married. Three months later, they separated and a year later, divorced. Whirlwind, remember?

Daterichbirds exhausted, she moved onto datebeauties. No need to ever tell the truth online, hmm?

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

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