Blog Archives

Clip Joint, by Amy Carlisle

30/4/2021

It was an old-fashioned barber shop, with mirrors on facing walls that formed an infinity of reflections.

OK, it was kind of a dump. But the price was right. And you never had to wait for a chair.

Or did you? Looking around, the barber and I were quite alone. But in that endless tunnel of mirrors there was also some little kid reading a comic book, patiently waiting his turn.

I paid my tab and hurried out, the barber close behind. Inside, that kid was still in the mirrors, still waiting.

Next time I’ll try Great Clips.

High, by Camia Rhodes

30/4/2021

I grab my massive curls and wrap them up in a hairband before stuffing them into this tiny helmet. He lifts me up into the craft, strapping me in before following suit. Alien hands grab the levers in front of him, and he gestures for me to do the same. Together, we push the levers forward and put the craft into flight. We break through the atmosphere into the cosmos, and he cuts the engine. Around me there is a wonder of stars, comets, asteroids and shimmering cosmic dust. My heart soars from the majesty before me and beside me.

Trials and Tribulations, by Sandra James

30/4/2021

Many years ago my ex-husband and I mowed the lawn of an elderly lady who regaled us with sagas about her various ills as soon as we arrived.

I changed tack; told her how well she looked before she could begin. She beamed, smiled, said she was much better now.

My current husband greets me every morning with his latest ills. Headache. Sore back. Sleepless night, etc.

I changed tack; told him looked much better this morning. He sighed, moaned, said he was putting on a brave front despite all.

You win some, you lose some!

Cottage Gardener, by Sally Arkinstall

30/4/2021

He was standing on the newly block paved driveway. I can’t be sure how long he stood before he caught my eye.

He nodded over to the magnolia. Its gnarled roots pressed hard against the wall, its scent filled the air; it was enjoying its moment of spring glory. It was my pride and joy. The tree had sold the cottage to me, my heart overruling my head again.

‘It’s doing well.’ he said. ‘I planted that the year I buried her, beneath the vegetable plot.’

He paused, looked down at his feet.

‘I don’t know where that’s gone.'

A Little Nutty, by Russell Conover

30/4/2021

Sheila stared at the peanut in her hand. What a weird shape for a food. Like a three-dimensional figure eight. And how the heck did the nut get inside? So many thoughts about a tiny snack.

She realized her life was more than a little nutty. She'd been trying to find steady work for some time, but had only landed part time jobs. She was juggling her work search, her family, and her free time, and it wasn't all easy. However, she made things work.

Life’s too short for sanity, she thought. Sometimes you have to go a little crazy.

Conundrum, by Sue Clayton

30/4/2021

The task was Herculean, but successfully attempted by millions. Now it was my turn to master the unfathomable.

Try as I might I failed to unravel the enigma. Tears of miserable frustration flowed time after time.

“You can do this,” my parents encouraged, hiding their exasperation at my continued incompetence.

“No I can’t,” I moaned, foiled again by the perplexing challenge of threads and loops that lay before me.

Until ultimately the mystery revealed itself, the tears dried and I joined the millions who’d rejoiced in solving the age-old conundrum.

I learnt how to tie my shoelaces.

They All Run Together, by Don Tassone

30/4/2021

“Did you hear the news?”

“What news?”

“About the mass shooting.”

“Where?”

“Hmm, let me think.”

“You mean in Indianapolis?”

“No, the one last night.”

“In Texas?”

“No, that was last week.”

“You’re not thinking of the one in Wisconsin, are you?”

“Wisconsin? No, that was a while ago.”

“Well, I’m not sure then.”

“Me either. Sorry I mentioned it.”

“No worries. It’s hard to keep them all straight.”

“I know. They all run together.”

“Isn’t that sad?”

“Yeah.”

Returned, by Jeffrey Griffiths

30/4/2021

I’m not sure what to think about it except that it is bewildering. I’m at a loss, I have never seen, heard, or even smelled anything remotely like it. I have no reference point for comparison, absolutely nothing to relate to. Yet as my senses search my memories there is something, like a song I can’t place, or a perfume that conjures up everything apart from who dabbed it on their neck. As though it has returned from somewhere in my mind to simply ask, do you remember?

In the Cold Light of Morning, by Gordon Lawrie

30/4/2021

She wakens in the morning half-light: cold, driving rain hammers on the bedroom window. She closes her eyes and pulls the duvet back over her shoulders, tucked up in a personal cocoon. Perhaps she should get up, but she came to slightly early. Still dozing, she feels a yearning for her husband and reaches out to see if he's awake: there's time enough to begin the day in the best way possible.

But his bed is empty, he's not there, and only now does she truly waken and – with an empty start – remember that she has a funeral to attend.

Mayan-Blue-Rules-Football, by Bill Sells

30/4/2021

Say goodbye to last year's champs.
.
Yes, great squad those 'Flaming Tapirs,' and happy-sad to see them go Blue.

So, the Tapirs lose to Macaw Magic who advance to meet the winner of the Silver Sloth-Tarantula Tick grudge match.

Oh, yes, much intrigue. Only reason both teams are back is the match ended nil-nil. Priestly officiates never came to a conclusion.

You mean, if they tied on purpose so neither would go Blue?

Exactly.

We're set for the kickoff of the Panamanian Parrot Princes versus Poison Dart Frogs of Teotihuacan, but remember, Blue always finds the truth.

Yes, Blue do.

Cheer Up! by Bill Cox

30/4/2021

“Cheer up, it might never happen!”

What I should say – “But what if it has happened, happened with extreme prejudice. The worst thing in the world happening in the worst possible way at the worst possible time. Would I still have to cheer up then? Would you still accost me, a total stranger, in the street and insist that my misery shouldn’t be a burden to you? Insist that I put on a fake smile, as if that’d cure all my ills, ills about which you’re totally ignorant?”

What I actually do - give a weak grin and walk on.

The Secret, by Jim Woessner

30/4/2021

“It’s top secret,” she said. “Strictly on the QT, eyes-only, need-to-know, pinky pull, hush hush, cross your heart and hope to die. It can’t leave this room.”

I told her I understood.

“Seal your lips,” she insisted. “You can’t tell a soul, mum’s the word. Promise me.”

I promised. I raised my right hand and took an oath. I told her that I’d swear on the Holly Bibble. That seemed to work, so she divulged her confidential secret. For my part, I gave an Oscar-worthy look of shock. I didn’t have the heart to tell her that everyone already knew.

Funeral for Two, by Jennifer Kim

30/4/2021

Spirit – Killed. Excellence – Never achieved.
I stared down at the tombstone. It was only a day old, but a spider was already working feverishly on its grim corner, determined to coat the dreary stone with webs to catch dewdrops in.
I considered the words on the grave. The description was quite on-point, if not a little ruthless.
And yet, he had been my father.
Was it right or cruel, I wondered, that this would be the last inscription of him?
Both, I decided. Yes, both.
Absent of any breeze, the autumn air was heavy with salt and memory that day.

Family Expectations, by Lane Topher

30/4/2021

Jason thought it would be fun to learn to snowboard as it was a frequent sport played by his family. When he got there, though, he backed out and said that he couldn't do it. He was afraid he'd fracture his spine.

Distraught, the family tried to convince him he was safe and it was fun. "You won't know if you don't like it if you don't try!" But all Jason could do was shake his head and run.

As he went his way, people gabbed about how much of a coward he had been. He regrets ever trying out.

In Her Dreams, by Shelley Kirton

30/4/2021

It was the most elegant breakfast she’d ever been served. In her family, breakfasts were eaten on the run, soggy cereal muddling in pools of souring milk: all meals slapdash.

In front of her was a feast worthy of glossy home-and-garden magazines and lifestyles of the rich and famous. He was sincere, attentive: The One. He gazed adoringly at her. Champagne sparkled, the princess-cut diamond was exquisite in its plush velvet box. Her smile was radiant, her heartbeat erratic. She ached, knew they belonged together. She said yes, oh yes.

The wedding ad campaign will be released in early Spring.

Beyond Newaygo, by Todd Mercer

30/4/2021

Jane and I drive into the rural hinterland, past Sparta, Cedar Springs, far from the urban build-up. We fear locals will detect city essence on us and kill us for being different. Crazy stories in the country-side.

Jane says we turn back if the wedding isn’t around the dirt road’s next bend. But it is.

Everyone’s nice. We feel sheepish for stereotyping. Twice we sneak back to our car to share a doob. We later learned the wedding party blazed their own blunts in our absences, thinking we abstained.

Someone produces moonshine. We aren’t murdered, but the drive home? Blurry.

The Gran'kids Came Round, by Alex Blaine

30/4/2021

The gran'kids asked Gran'dad, 'How did you meet Nana?'

'Well, it was the year 2022. Everybody was partying after being locked up for two years due to the Covid-19 pandemic. And there she was: dancing on the dance-floor. The music was loud, the atmosphere hot and sticky. I tapped her on the shoulder. She turned around, throwing her drink in my face, then she kneed me in the bollocks and screamed, "I'm the doorman's fiance!" Thing is, I was the doorman, and was just trying to return her keys. But from that moment I knew she was the one.

The Knock, by Stephen Johnson

30/4/2021

A soft knock outside my bathroom door, almost too quiet to be heard, breaks the still silence. Then silence, complete deafening silence, maybe it was just my imagination.

It comes again, this time from the other side of the room. This time, it is louder, closer. I close my eyes holding my breath waiting for the next knock. I know it will come.

It comes each night for me – that knock. My mind says it is just in my head. I wish I could believe that.

I would if not for the message carved in the floor, “Let me in!”

Call of Urgency, by Krystyna Fedosejevs

30/4/2021

“Meteor shower peaking tonight,” beamed a radio announcer.

Frank, an amateur astronomer, noted the time. He took binoculars and a comfy chair outdoors for the viewing.

“Nothing,” he concluded. “Only saw darting satellites.”

“No UFOs?” quipped his wife.

“Ridiculous! Pure fiction. Only fools believe they’re real.”

Out on errands, he was sidelined by an unusual glow rising behind the store he visited, and picked up his phone.

He was surprised to see his wife anxiously waiting for his return.

“Some goof called our radio station to report a flying saucer,” she giggled. “Can you imagine that?”

“I most certainly can.”

Mother's Philosophical Rants, by Sbusiso Mnguni

30/4/2021

I often think of my mother and her philosophical rants under the rancid breath of vodka.

"There's nothing mysterious about life at all, I have figured it out."

"When you push hard enough, she pushes with you iron-fisted. When you fuck up, she'll come roaring down the freeway in full throttle so that nothing stands in your way."

"But when you were born, oh boy...I punched through the walls, the whole LDR fell to a trance, while she stood still as a ghost, not a groan of protest, nothing. That's when I knew that she is no push over!"

Never Thought of It That Way, by Daniel Hybner

30/4/2021

“I wish I had a time machine like yours, Daddy.”

“Time machine? Sweetheart, I don’t have a time machine. Time machines don’t even exist.”

“Sure they do, Daddy. I see them everywhere.”

She was very self-assured for only being four.

“Do you now? Tell me, where exactly is the last place you saw a time machine?”

“Lift up your arm.”

I slowly raised my right arm.

“Not that arm, Daddy. The other arm.”

I raised my left arm.

“See, the time machine’s on your wrist. Whenever I ask you what time it is, you always look at your time machine.”

Green Is an Indigestible Colour, by Marcelo Medone

30/4/2021

Sheila is mad at her mother because she wants to force her to eat asparagus soup.
"This is disgusting! I hate vegetables! I want chicken soup!"
Since her mother doesn't acknowledge her tantrum, Sheila changes her tack.
She cries inconsolably on the plate, adding salty tears to it.
"You can cry all you want, Sheila, but you won't leave the table until you've finished eating. And then you have broccoli pie."
"I'm not going to eat anything green!"
The mother takes out a spray bottle and paints the soup and the pie purple.
"Ready! I hope you are satisfied now."

The Beacon, by Soren Ringh

30/4/2021

I waited for the elevator on the hotel’s ground floor when it became cold like I’d stepped into a refrigerated unit. I turned; a woman stared with wide, panicked eyes beyond the glass of the indoor pool area.

Sopping-blonde hair hung clenched to her head and shoulders. Her thin arms crossed tight to her bikini-clad body as she tensed and shivered — wet, translucent skin, like watered-down crusted milk.

The fear for themselves and loved ones and words left unsaid caused them to linger.

I’m not a good man. Why me?

I sighed and made for the pool area door.

Relief, by Aliyah Bah

30/4/2021

Ms. Wilson leads me into her office. “Thank you for coming, Jessica.”

I nod silently.

She points to a chair across from her desk. “Take a seat.”

I sit, sun rays stabbing through the window acts as a spotlight on my face. I hold my breath.

“It’s Alyssa. They’ve called off the search.”

My eyes widen.

“I know this is hard for you. You two were so close.” Ms. Wilson’s voice is soft, empathetic.

“I. . . I don’t know what to say.” I see Alyssa--blue, cold, half-buried. “Thank you for telling me,” I mutter, swallowing relief.

Reciprocation, by Paritosh Chandra Dugar

30/4/2021

My father loves me so much. But, alas, I crave for his cuddle. Does he carry a curse? His one step forward will end my life instantly. He can only look at me lovingly and feed me fondly from above. How can I reciprocate his love?

My mother mumbled inaudibly.

Born of you, I suck your sap all through life. When I die, I fall in your lap and lie there long. How can I repay your debts, mother?

“Well, don’t you save me from your estranged father’s fury and keep me cool?” the earth replied to the tree tenderly.

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

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