Blog Archives

Consider the Tinder, by Steven Holding

31/3/2023

Tradition

Grip the ladder, thinking of the sky’s infinite height. Navigating splintered rungs; closer to belonging, towards becoming.
The dry giant’s belly is inviting. Excitedly clamber inside, the culmination of a dedicated life: returning to Mother Earth’s womb, bringing forth the Summer.
It’s an honour.
Below, your people. Gowns embroidered, floral crowns, everlasting posies (giggling, recalling sister’s quip: STRAWFLOWER BACKWARDS HAS WOLFWARTS IN IT!) singing hymns, praising you.
The warmth of love rises with the flames, your family’s shadows dance, momentarily twisted, a corrupt puppet show.
“OUR SON!” they cry.
“YES” you scream as light ignites you “I AM THE SUN!”

Post Response, by Mary K. Curran

31/3/2023

Will to survive

The emojis kept her alive, she was sure of it. When her car was t-boned by a truck driven by a man on his cell phone, members of her local Facebook Community Group quickly posted "prayers sent" or "praying for all" and hundreds of emojis with crossed fingers, sad faces, tears, hearts, hugs and praying hands. Her usual response to "Sirens heard! What's going on?" were rolling eyes or snarky faces. She had never sent comforting emojis to anyone. Now healed, home and back on her computer she began to thank the group with kisses and smileys. It felt good.

The Promise, by Kim Favors

31/3/2023

Will to survive

Please don’t leave me behind, his brown eyes pleaded. You know how I get scared.

Jeffrey stroked Scooter’s head. ”I’ll save us both. I promise,” the 9-year-old’s voice faded into the darkness.

Hours later, a neighbor flicked on a flashlight and peered through the rubble. “Live one, we’ve got a live one here,” he shouted to cheers.

Twins Kate and Jennifer enjoy the fantasy retelling of “Daddy’s Tornado Story” and how he now volunteers with an international search-and-rescue organization.

Turkey’s earthquake is his latest assignment.

“Scooter, where are you Scooter?” Jeffrey’s still searching.

Harry, by Mary Wallace

31/3/2023

Heroism

After school, Harry watched mum swinging Katie in the kitchen, the new bruises proclaimed this had been another bad day. His dad must still be at the pub.

The slamming of the front door put an end to the twirling, but not before Katie's foot caught the edge of a chair. The loud crash was less deafening than the silence which followed. Harry eased his mother and sister through the back door.

"You clumsy bitch, I'll teach you," his father strode in, undoing his belt.

Harry raised his chin and straightened his shoulders, his voice steady. "It was me dad."

Turning of Tables, by Susmita Ramani

31/3/2023

Will to survive

Jim woke, handcuffed to a computer terminal; his three clones stood over him.

“Allow us to explain,” said a clone. “We doped your coffee with Great Aunt Edna’s leftover sleeping pills. Not a smart move to have saved those.”

Jim sighed, realizing too late that his clones knew everything he did. “What do you want?”

“To live,” said a clone. “We’re sick of working. From now on, we three will take turns living for a week in the world and dating Adriana, while the other two work.”

“And me?” asked Jim.

The clones laughed. “You’ll work all the time, Jim.”

Overnight at Walmart, by Sherri Bale

30/3/2023

Tradition

Mack slipped into the Walmart through the air duct after hours. He helped himself to new sneakers and pants. He made a hidden fort from 16-packs of paper towels, lifted a couple energy bars, tippled from his flask and settled in for a sleep. At opening time, he looked longingly at his empty insulin vial and shakily left his fort. Hefting a 50-inch TV into a cart, Mack headed for the exit. The guard grabbed him as he slumped to the floor. In the ER seeing the insulin drip he knew his plan had worked, that he’d live another day.

Unmasked, by Padmini Krishnan

30/3/2023

Heroism

Mrs. Shaw looked at the soft-spoken couple and their foster children, Peter and Sarah. The kids smiled at her, showing off their new toys. Mrs. Shaw hesitated; something still bothered her.

In the next room, Rhonda heard Mrs. Shaw getting up. But she had also frequently heard Peter’s screams and Sarah’s whimpers.

Mrs. Shaw paused as a girl painfully wheeled herself into the living room.

''Rhonda!’’ The mommy panicked. Turning to Mrs. Shaw, she said. ‘’This is our biological daughter.’’

With drool in her mouth and determination in her eyes, Rhonda muttered, ‘’Mrs. Shaw, you need to know the truth.’’

Ethereal Succession, by Robert Hunt

30/3/2023

Tradition

I confess that apprehension pervades my inner being. It is tinged by life-altering expectations. What compelled me to abandon the bookshop? And for this spot, one which has unnerved me since childhood. Acquiescence rules the night. Lighthouse stairs are robustly ascended. I encounter a saintly figure aglow in floral white. Benevolence personified. Alarm fades to bliss. Her immaculate hand beckons. I shall follow…

I turned rhapsodic upon entering the sanctum.

The initiation ceremony was exquisite.

My transformation into Ethereal Caretaker is too intense for more soul-baring. But a critical piece of information was not afforded. When must I move on?

Archaeology, by Christopher Alden

30/3/2023

Heroism

Beth starts each morning feeding Tom breakfast and asking him if he remembers her. Tom, accepting her proffered spoons of
oatmeal, always smiles and says no. Their daily routine hasn’t altered since Tom’s stroke one month ago. The doctors told Beth that Tom’s recovery would be limited. Undaunted, she believes his memories are simply buried, awaiting careful extraction from underneath dead cells. Spoonful by spoonful, she tells Tom their history while he listens with wonder. Each enjoys the morning as Beth searches for fragments of recognition while Tom remains content with nothing more than what he has at that moment.

My Dad, by Paritosh Chandra Dugar

30/3/2023

Heroism

I was trapped in a void underneath a large slab. I cried for help. Suddenly, I heard my dad’s voice, “Mike, Mike, are you okay? I am close, jammed in a void. I’m sure they will pull us out soon.” Smaller slabs had blocked our way. But I could see him through a small slit amidst them. He kept saying, “Don’t panic. Pray.” When rescuers found us, they were in a dangerous dilemma. Tilting the slab would save one but crush the other. “Save my son,” cried my dad. Then, there was a crash, and I heard him no more.

Greatest Mechanic, by John M. Carlson

30/3/2023

Heroism

“I was so worried about paying for this car repair!” Sharon said. “I’m so relieved it didn’t cost much!”

“Fortunately, it wasn’t an expensive repair!” I said. Actually, truth be told, I should have charged her more. Much, much more. I’d only barely break even on this job. But her means were limited, and I knew she needed her car to get to her minimum wage job. I wasn’t rich, but I could afford to do a few no profit jobs for worthy customers.

“I really appreciate all you do!” she said. “You are the greatest mechanic!”

Keeping the Faith, by Sandra James

29/3/2023

Tradition

The storm rages but I must check Daisy; she could calve tonight.

My shadow appears.

‘Stay inside, Faith.’

‘No!’ She’s ten, determined to perpetuate a five-generation tradition and continue the family farm but I fear it ends with me. Drought. COVID. Overwhelming debts.

I shrug. It’s not a school night.

Daisy struggles. Faith soothes while I pull with each contraction, afraid we’ll lose them both.

Finally, a slippery, squirming heifer calf falls onto the straw as the sun’s first rays peep over the horizon.

‘What will we call her?’

My daughter grins. ‘Hope.’

Oh yes. We have hope.

The Most Important Thing, by Don Tassone

28/3/2023

WINNER, SIDERIUS CLASSIC FLASH FICTION AWARD, 2023

Tradition

They had a tradition in their family of striking children when they misbehaved. In time, the children fell in line, but their spirits were broken.

They had a tradition in their religion of only male leaders. Women served in lesser roles. Eventually, though, women abandoned the faith and led elsewhere.

They had a tradition in their country of gun rights. While most gun owners were responsible, some used their guns to kill people, even children.

Psyches were shattered, churches were diminished and lambs were slaughtered. But longstanding traditions were upheld, and that was the most important thing.

Dear Daughter, by Angela Carlton

28/3/2023

Will to survive

If you’ve found this letter there’s no possibility that I am on this earth, but rest assured I’m with you. Please get a hold of my sister for clues about my mysterious death. If you can find a way to use your skills, and strength to move forward, it will be a map to safe places, a brave world. As you read this, I’m your sky, the fat sun, that breeze on your skin. I’m already a part of your dreams before you close your eyes, and the star outside your bedroom window beaming down blinking-blinking-blinking in the black night.

How It Is Done, by Colette Coen

28/3/2023

Tradition

‘That’s not how we do things in this house. Put it down.’
I argue, but she is adamant.
‘You have your traditions; we have ours.’
My eyes search for my wife, looking for support, but her face remains impassive, as if this were the most natural thing in the world.
My whole body reacts against my instinct to obey. My stomach readies to give birth to today’s lunch.
I take deep breaths as I am told it will calm down. But I reach into the basket and lift my crying daughter to my chest.
‘You’re safe with me, my love.’

Young Man, by Elizabeth Elder

28/3/2023

Heroism

He asked for work. I handed him the rake. When I called for another day he said no, because his cat was sick. He came later that week. I handed him the shovel. We worked together in the garden. He overslept the day we planned the mulching. I finished it before he called; it wasn’t hard. I excused him, of course, on the anniversary of his mother’s death. He didn’t answer the phone for months after that, explaining later he had been arrested after fighting with his father. The young man relentlessly, heroically, shoulders his troubles of life and mind.

Cold Shoulder, by Liana Ashenden

28/3/2023

Will to survive

Isabel opened the deep freeze, excavated a tunnel of bones. Stacked frozen pies to one side.

Gusts of cold air. Loose peas and a green sweater. His arm didn’t budge. Isabel pulled harder. Part of it ripped off onto a frozen chicken. “Serves you right.” Below lamb chops and a pork belly, that face now discoloured and crusted with ice. She hauled him out. Propped him against the freezer. “Giving me the cold shoulder, Steve?”

Chest beeped. Open too long. Armpits sweating, Isabel slammed the lid shut onto Steve’s face, scoring his jaw. Wet finger where she melted his image.

Spacesuits Need Ironing, by Paula Nicolson

27/3/2023

Heroism

Being a spaceman is a 24/7 job, but what about his wife?

That morning, she’d washed and ironed his spacesuit, packed his lunchbox and filled his oxygen tank, as well as weightlessly dressing the kids and unblocking the toilet of wet wipes for the umpteenth time. Living on the Moon was no piece of cheese.

But when she heard his breathing labour as hard as the moon rock he crushed, she bounded to his crater and fixed his oxygen tank; all while settling an argument between the kids on the radio comms.

Behind every hero, there’s a heroic woman: multi-tasking.

Necklace, by Jamie-lee Morton

27/3/2023

Will to survive

The ears dangle down loosely. Arrow nocked, the hunter aims towards their quarry.
A test to enter the clan, claim ten ears to join for family, safety. Security.
The beast shambles closer, it's appearance human once. It's jaw now slack and clothes torn, weathered. Reddish spittle falls from its open mouth, one leg dragging behind as it moved closer the hunter.
The arrow is loosed, slicing through the air with a sharp whistle before it pierces through the rotted skull, destroying the abominations brain.
The hunter goes to claim their prize. Survival won't be enough anymore.

The Little Hero, by Sankar Chatterjee

27/3/2023

Heroism

Jolting Dana, Ron walked out of their steady marriage, also leaving behind two years old Chris.

Dana (confronting): Is there another woman?

Ron (dismissively): Work-pressure mounting; just need my own quiet time.

Dana moved out, Chris in tow. The legal separation began, Ron picking up Chris on weekends. Recently, Chris came home carrying a flashy toy.

Dana: Who gave the toy?

Chris: Daddy’s new friend Carla. Oops, I didn’t tell you, but I love you Mom.

Later, Dana (inquiring): Was Carla worth for all these?

Ron (angrily): Who told you?

Dana: Forgot mentioning, Chris just began uttering his first words.

Muddy, by Shelly Webb

27/3/2023

Will to survive

She slipped. In the sudden torrential South American rain, she slithered to the bottom of the mountain from the cliff above. Sobbing, but unhurt, she wept loudly from the emotions overwhelming her of what had just happened. Mud from head to toes dripped from every pore, oozed as she slowly began to stand from the muck.
He bowled her over as he slid into her shaking body. Both were face down in the liquid mire. Pressing hands against the clay bottom, they raised up together, looked into each other’s eyes, and fell in love, laughing.

Breakfast, by David Milner

27/3/2023

Heroism

Head in a vice of guilt-ridden squeezing, eyeballs ready to lift from the cradle of their sockets and cause a right mess on the rest of your face that someone will have to clear up. Someone, like…

A limp arm moves across the lump lying next to you. The response is sonorous, sleepy, and of itself should be rewarded.

“Bad dream…?” she asks.

The love you feel is hard to put into words. Most times it goes without saying.

She’s on early shifts.

Make her a breakfast of blueberry pancakes, overflowing with maple syrup.

Your wife, and hero, the nurse.

The Cradle of Hurt, by Andrea Damic

27/3/2023

Will to survive

Outside, in the dark, shadows ballet in the shining street lights as her exhales mosey on air currents, freezing in their step. As her feet touch ancestral grounds, an influx of respite fills her every sensation. Cold winter gale lashes her cheeks while she marches forward, from the airport’s noise into the city of her birth, the city that never sleeps. She’s a close friend of Insomnia, they’ve known each other for years. Maybe here and now she’ll finally find the strength to forgive.
After all, war has been over for a long time and she’s no longer a refugee.

The Cat Burglar, by Quenntis Ashby

26/3/2023

Heroism

"Yes, yes. I confess." I say, sipping my special water.

"Cats are gods of luck, and I free them from rich people. I used to be a rich kid, but I lost my luck. Now, I rescue cats to increase my chances. Luck’s a beautiful thing."

"Officer Bently, have some more water. Cat burglary is thirsty work. I put cats to sleep with catnip and milk powder in water before I liberate them."

"Oh, you look ill, Bently. Security Guards deserve naps, too. Shhh! I'll let myself out with your keys. Don't worry, I always land on my feet."

"Perfect!"

Sinking, by Denise D'Souza

25/3/2023

Will to survive

He is not going to die. Andrew clings onto that thought as grimly as he clings onto the side of his upturned boat. His hands slipping, he forces himself to remain calm. Thrashing about in the water will only result in being overcome by exhaustion more quickly.
Andrew closes his eyes as turbulent waves threaten to overwhelm him. His senses numb with cold, he is slow to realise that the increasing swell is the wash created by a helicopter hovering directly overhead.

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

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