Blog Archives

Rebecca's Betrothal, by Marlene Goldberg

31/3/2016

"How shall I know whether she is suitable?" thought Eliezer, Abraham's trusted servant.
Then he smiled as she drew buckets of water to quench not only his thirst, but that of his many camels.
"She indeed is worthy."
Laban's eyes bulged as Eliezer's ebony fingers laid out the gold and silver jewelry Abraham had sent as dowry for Laban's sister Rebecca. Laban urged his father, Betuel, to agree to the marriage with Isaac, the scion to the Abrahimic dynasty.
Rebecca arrived in the late afternoon, almost falling off her donkey at the sight of the tall princely son of Abraham.

Day Trip, by R. A. Duffy

28/3/2016

They meet at Thursday Happy Hour; Saturday a drive in the country. At the reservoir, they squeeze through the fence, clambering down through the trees. Grinning, they strip and plunge in, kissing, then stumble back to the rocky edge, where she flops down for him. Then she points to his foot and a shattered jar amid the rocks. ”You’re bleeding...” They use his shirt to bind his foot but he can’t drive. Pale and distracted, he’s jiggering a story for the wife. Driving, Bethany calls her roommate to pick her up at the cross street near his house.

The Minister's Wife, by Ann-Louise Truschel

28/3/2016

She answered the door. Reverend Martin walked in. “The prayer group said you were sick tonight.”
“Roy, it’s over. You’re married – and you’re my minister.”
“Joyce, we can be together.”
“It’s too risky. The church secretary caught us four years ago.”
“But Sheila was murdered.”
“Poor woman. They never found out who did it.”
“I told Mrs. Farnsworth that Sheila was trying to seduce me.”
“What? She worships you, but she’s 65!”
“She’s obsessed with me. Today I told her my wife was cheating on me.”
Roy’s cell phone rings.
“Yes, it’s Reverend Martin. “What?! My wife has been shot?”

No Handbooks, by Jo Oldani-Osborne

27/3/2016

No baby was coming home.
I was one of the little ones. We were invisible.
The women cooked.

Grandpa, had a tool box and nodded his head to the older boys. First they went up to Mom’s room and took apart the crib. Grandpa said very little. If the boys fought he slammed a tool down loud enough to make his point.

They carried the pieces into the garage hiding it under an old bedspread. He had the boys clean out the rest of the garage.
Mother came home the next week, “Where’s my crib?”
Then I heard Grandpa cry.

Careful What You Wish For, by Gordon Lawrie

26/3/2016

Although content as a slow turtle, Ted still dreamed of flying. One day, he found an old oil lamp, and deciding that ‘nothing ventured, nothing gained’, rubbed it. Out popped a Genie.

“I’ll grant you one wish, Turtle. One wish only.”

“I wish I could fly, thanks.”

One puff of smoke later, the Genie vanished. Waving his legs, Ted took off, slowly banking and weaving across the fields – magical.

Then: gunfire. Suddenly he realised that slow-moving flying turtles were indistinguishable from clay pigeons. He desperately hoped that the shotgun party were poor shots.

He heard an echo. “One wish only...”

Turtle Trouble, by Russell Conover

26/3/2016

Ted the Turtle was a happy turtle. However, he hated always being left in the dust. Every day, other animals passed him by as he struggled to catch up.

“If only I could fly,” Ted thought. “That would be so cool!”

The next thing Ted knew, he was soaring above the ground, amongst the clouds. The view was spectacular, and the sensation was exhilarating.

“This is awesome!” Ted thought. “Pinch me--I must be dreaming.”

Then Ted woke up.

“AUGHHHH!”

Poor Ted. So close to ultimate satisfaction, yet so far from what he wanted.

Never give up on your dreams.

Short-Time Colleague, by Eric Smith

26/3/2016

That blonde was smart—knew her mathematics—and was pleasant besides; still, something was off. Yes, she had that bombshell build, kept her hair swept up, and man was she ever man-crazy. If you wore pants, smiled, and talked to her—paid her any positive attention at all—she'd light up like a Christmas tree. She didn’t last long with the company, though. After six months, she quit to chase after some sleazy guy who worked for a competitor based in Colorado. No, I don’t know much about people, but I bet she had a hard home life.

Lunchtime With Frick And Frack, by Amy Friedman

25/3/2016

“Oh man. What a ripoff.”
“Oooooookay. What are you complaining about now?”
“This lunch. It says ‘Tortelloni’.”
“So?”
“Well, LOOK! These are tortellini.”
“How can you tell?”
“They’re too small.”
“Well, do they taste OK?”
“Not the point. It’s false advertising.”
“Maybe they misspelled it on the box?”
“You are so credulous! Tortelloni are supposed to be yuuuuuuge. Big mamas. These are eeny. Look.”
“They look OK to me. Actually, that one looks like a little piggie. “
WHAT?
“C’mon! Can’t you see? There’s the squinty eyes, and the cute little snoot … “
“I am NOT talking to you.”

The Great Escape, by Alison McHarg

25/3/2016

The Easter bunny was having an off-day.

Tiresome pink satin bows, pointless egg hunts, enforced joie de vivre – especially hard to summon – there’s a gale blowing!

Gathering some esprit de corps, he gambolled lethargically with other bunnies as a crowd of kids came into view. Hoppity-hop, mid-air twirl; that raised a half-hearted cheer.

Lettuce, barley, cabbage – sigh – city farms don’t do ‘deli’.

Perhaps the Easter fairy godmother has visited though. She’s in the form of a brown wild cousin. How did he get into this unbreachable stockade?

Not for nothing have burrowing skills lain dormant in our bunny’s DNA…

Flash Mary, by Emma Baird

25/3/2016

Despite her determined dental efforts, Mary’s teeth cleaning hadn’t prevented her acquisition of gum disease.

One by one, her teeth loosened dangerously until the day when an unwise bite of hamburger resulted in four teeth embedded in the discarded bun.

In tears, she rang her dentist, asking for an emergency appointment. As it was the Easter weekend one wasn’t available. She was forced to hide indoors, drinking soup and avoiding smiling.

Finally, the appointment arrived. The dentist advised that he must remove her remaining teeth and fit her with implants.

Thousands of pounds later, she flashed the brightest, whitest smile.

Going Dutch, by Gordon Lawrie

25/3/2016

Far into the night, Tom grew ever more determined. Again, he broke three eggs, separating the yolks into a bowl. Then over a small pan quarter-filled with water, he added a little water and stirred; then little by little he patiently added butter, stirring the mix all the time to encourage it to blend properly. When the sauce started to thicken a little, he switched off the heat, added lemon juice, salt and pepper, then... it curdled.

So difficult. But Tom wasn’t going to let something like Hollandaise sauce defeat him. Again he cracked three eggs, separating yolks from whites...

Purging Perfection, by Roshanna Sidney Evans

25/3/2016

Her skin had a mind of its own and seemed to enjoy betraying her, especially since her life had become, well, perfect. Perfect house. Perfect partner. Perfect diet. Perfect world. So, why was her perfect skin suddenly chapped and cracked?
“You’re ruining me,” Sally cried, unable to stop her fingers from chasing the itch that just kept getting deeper. “Stop, please…because I can’t.”

Skin lodged under her fingernails. The scratches were ugly, and raw, and red.
“Why have you betrayed me?” she pleaded. “I’ve brushed you, fed you, loved you.”

“Easter penance. Too much perfection,” the scratches chimed. “Your resurrection.”

The Happiness Factor, by Joy Essien

22/3/2016

Uncle Bill burst into the room suddenly. His clothing and dance steps were totally out of character. Alarmed, Danny who'd been writing at the desk, jumped. "Are you alright, Sir," he asked.

Bill, in his 60s, twirled joyfully. Holding a hand out, he beckoned. "Come join the fun, today is the International Day of Happiness," he said, laughing.

Sartorial elegance and stately manner were his Uncle's hallmarks. "This is ridiculous", thought Danny.

" Uncle," he said, " I always thought international days marked serious causes."
Bill bellowed jovially: "Happiness is a serious issue, my boy. The world needs it now, more than ever."

Esther's Preparations, by Marlene Goldberg

22/3/2016

Esther fondled the soft silks in gorgeous hues. Various perfumes were brought to her dressing table for her to sniff the best. She was bathed in creamy bubbles to soften her rough olive skin. Haggai, the eunuch, brought her only the best. Her gown glittered as he coached her to glide, not walk, to greet the king. Her ears, wrist and neck sparkled with jewels. He taught her the art of painting her face to achieve a look both natural but utterly feminine. And how to carry herself with a look to devastate the other sex. King Ahashveros was bewitched.

Don't Look Back, by Susan Condon

22/3/2016

It was the shoes.

Black, scuffed, well-worn.

They reminded her of him.

Back to her college years: parties, cheap wine and music.

They loved their music. Second-hand albums that hopped and skipped on the turntable. Saturday night gigs. He nursed the microphone while she watched on, like every female there, transfixed.

She smiled, removing a leather glove, before delving into her handbag for a few coins.

“Thanks,” he muttered, looking up.

His dark eyes met her gaze and, for just an instant, there was a spark of recognition before he dropped his head.

She willed herself not to look back.

Fixing The Fence, by Eric Smith

19/3/2016

Butch’s boots sang in the wet snow as he shuffled side to side, sizing up the warped, two-by-six fence rail that had pulled away from the nails in the post at one end. His grandson Jimmy, who helped him with such chores, was down with pneumonia under the care of Butch’s second wife. The boy had never met his real grandma who’d died before he was born. With Jimmy laid up, Butch used a clamp to hold the new board in place as he drove the nails with his 22-ounce hammer. The clamp worked but he missed the conversation.

Inspiration, by Russell Conover

19/3/2016

Ted sat on a grassy hill, seeking inspiration for his writing. The sunset painted streaks of red and orange into the spring sky. The birds cawing above sounded like the most beautiful melody. The waves crashing on the beach put him at ease. The cool breeze against his skin soothed his aching joints. Ted took a deep breath, savoring the sensations.

Then, a stroke of genius hit him.

“Today, my kitty meowed so weirdly, I thought he wanted to go to Pluto. ‘Take me with you, please!’ I thought. The story will blow your mind.”

Nobody said writing is easy.

It's A Dumb World Sometimes, by Amy Friedman

18/3/2016

Maddie was on her sixth story of the day. Her head ached, her eyelids felt red and heavy, and her article workload file was staying obscenely full. Eight to go, still, and it was only noon-thirty.

A “hi” to her left registered.

“Want to go to lunch?” said Warren, her cube mate. His round blue eyes and round, velveteen-fuzzed head appeared above the wall separating their workspaces.

Maddie eyed her desk. She had just demolished an enormous chocolate mint cupcake. Her wastebasket was emitting an odd, citrus-tinged banana peel reek. She was quite full. Not another bite.

“Sure,” she said.

Delia's Daughter, by Emma Baird

18/3/2016

As a life-long fan of the pint-sized pop princess, Delia was determined her first-born daughter would be named in her honour. Little Kylie Jones was duly monikered.

Two days in to motherhood (and having bored their family and friends senseless with entreaties to marvel at their daughter's tiny eyes/nose/ears/fingers/hiccups) a letter arrived. It had an ominous air of officialdom to it.

The name Kylie is trademarked! Davy Jones exclaimed. “We can’t use it!”

Delia Smith smarted: “Surely not? Surely you can't do that, can you..?”

Flashes Of Genius, by Gordon Lawrie

18/3/2016

2025: The new Verts French government announced it would make the Eiffel Tower greener: the edifice would become a giant vertical socket bar from which the entire city could re-charge its electric cars. In no time, three million car-owners were plugging their cars into the ‘Eiffel Power’, as it became popularly known.

But the really clever idea was that the Tower was constantly struck by lightning, energy it was equipped to harness. The drivers unknowingly paid for electricity that the government got for free, in turn allowing the Verts to increase spending, cut taxes, and be re-elected for ever. Genius.

By Amy Friedman

18/3/2016

Emerging from sleep, Janna opened her eyes to a pitch-dark bedroom. Scratch that: her favorite squishy pillow was still atop her head. Moving it aside, she saw the sky outside was still dark, but Tim’s bedside lamp was still lit. She swiped her finger across her watch for the backlight. 1:30 am. She hadn’t been asleep long.
Padding outside of the bedroom, she noticed Tim in his chair, his laptop resting on his great belly. His eyes remained focused, without a single flicker acknowledging her presence.

Sighing, she shut the door to the loo. This was no longer a marriage.

Unremarkable Woman, by Eav Roche

16/3/2016

Unremarkable woman queued; her vacant expression lending nothing to friendship.

Smug man leaned across, caught librarian’s attention. Winked.

‘May I return these?’

Locked eyes with blushing coquette.

Unremarkable woman simmered. Here had seemed the ideal place on a filthy morning, away from destruction. While her partner slept off last night’s excess.

On the street Unremarkable woman spotted her reflection: three surplus stone, hair with untouched badger strip. Examined cosmetic free face in parked car’s wing mirror.

Smug Man pushed past, unapologetically. Threw dry cleaning into his car and went elsewhere.

Unremarkable woman shattered offending mirror. Intentionally. Then walked home slowly.

A Short History Of The USA In 100 Words, by Gordon Lawrie

16/3/2016

Technically fiction at time of writing.

After a career chopping trees, Washington and his pals got rid of some Brits. The new boys wrote a Constitution, changed it and adored the changes, drove cars, got seriously rich, led the free world, executed criminals, drove cars, fell in love with guns and steak, drove cars, fought a few wars but only elsewhere and generally acted schizophrenically. As you might expect from a cold hot dry wet country.

Then they elected a president who offered hope, tried, but couldn’t deliver. Then? Some fist-swinging guy from a bar in Nooyoik who renamed the country TrumpAmerica and US history ended.

Rain, by Avijeet Das

14/3/2016

Standing on the terrace, she was lost staring at the dark clouds in the sky. There were sudden flashes of lightning behind the dark clouds. It seemed as if the sky was about to have a party.

She looked like a nymph in need of love. I kept standing there and watching her with an amused gaze.

Turning slowly towards me and with longing in her eyes, she said, "I want to.....get wet in your rain."

So I began my symphony...

Nerves, by Russell Conover

13/3/2016

Ever since she saw the movie “Psycho” last night, she’d been terrified to enter her own shower. The chances of a repeat were slim, but better safe than sorry.

Trembling, she turned on the water and stepped inside. The warm flow soothed away her worries, and she closed her eyes and smiled.

“I know you’re in there,” a raspy voice wheezed.

Screaming, she tangled the curtain and fell flat on her face. Looking up, she saw her husband smirking. “Bit nervous?” he jabbed.

“Better watch your back next time YOU’RE in here,” she muttered. “I’ll be lurking. You’re never safe.”

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

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