Blog Archives

Sacrifices, by Russell Conover

31/5/2014

“This is a real crisis!” June panted.

“I’ll say,” Randy agreed. “The dragons have taken over the city, and now they’re making their demands!”

“But where are we going to find 1,000 cats to sacrifice? We can’t do that to the poor, innocent animals.”

“I have an idea! I wonder if the dragons would take Flash Fiction stories instead! That’s about how many we have on the websites.”

“It’s worth a shot!”

(Several hours later)

“We’re saved!” Randy crowed. “Humans and cats have been spared!”

“And the dragons even want to write Flash Fiction, too. Who’da thunk it?”

Census, by Jane Reid

31/5/2014

The stories were being counted, and some resented it. They bore signs saying:
“I am a tale, not a tally,” and “I am a story, not a fictographic.”

But others were jumping and jostling, shouting, “Count me, count me.”

Official FFF statistician Gordon was becoming frustrated. “Get in line,” he pleaded, to little avail.

At last, he realized he needed help – and that help was at hand. He drafted Flora, the dignified Doberman who had defused other sticky situations, and Ann Louise, mistress of the extreme solution. Should all other efforts fail, he had one last resort: that multi-talented cat.

By Marlene Goldberg

31/5/2014

Me, My Little Brother with Mom and Dad on the Beach
“Ouch, my feet’re burning.” I yell, “The sand’s too hot!”
Jackie’s already perched on Dad’s shoulders, carrying him back to our blanket in the shade.
“C’mon,” Mom says, “We’re almost there.”
“It’s no fair! I wanna sit on Dad’s shoulders!”
I hate being the big sister.
We finish our sandwiches.
“Let’s go home. I’m tired.”
“Not yet”, says Jackie, “Last one in - is a rotten egg.”
“Wait, kids, you’ve just eaten.”
Too late. We’re already bouncing and splashing in the warm waves.
It’s great to have a little brother.

A Thousand by the First Anniversary, by Rejoice Denhere

31/5/2014

"What honey? Make a thousand? Yes, no problem!”

Melvin buried his head in the paper but he could not longer concentrate on the article. A thousand by their first anniversary?

“You think so? We’ll hardly be indoors to do that sort of thing. It could be difficult what with it being summer and all.”

“Yes, actually, I was going to ask you what you think is a doable figure?”

“Well, if three of us got together every Friday we could come up with new ideas to spice things up and get us going.”

“No, really, I couldn’t!”

By Jane Reid

30/5/2014

Betty didn’t expect her son home until late, so she was surprised when the door opened.
“Josh! How did you get here so early?” she asked.
“I hitched a ride,” he said.
“How often have I told you not to do that? It’s dangerous.”
“Aw, mom, I know Drake. He’s good guy, you’d like him. He doesn’t even smoke.”
“Even so, Josh . . .”
“Don’t worry so, mom. He’s not like his hot-tempered kin. Besides, I have my fire-proof vest on.”
“Son, you know I’m not a bigot. There’s good in every kind. But you just can’t trust dragons.”

Shoes On A Chair, by Jo Oldani-Osborne

30/5/2014

Donny’s flight was in three hours. Loretta watched the ritual of “the final pack.” This was an important concert.

He wore a black golf shirt with a discreet ESPN logo topping a pair or black golf shorts with black Nike socks but he was wearing his flannel slippers.

“Light meter?” She reminded.

“My iPhone has an app.”

“Lighting plots?”

“App with The Cloud.”

Donny kissed his wife as he grabbed his case and ran for the hired car.
Loretta wondered when exactly her Lighting Designer would notice he forgot his shoes. No, worry.There was probably an app for that.

Arrayment, by Cate Lloyd

30/5/2014

The carriage was stifling and smelled sour. Jasmine glowed in her sprigged cotton sundress. It had been the cool choice that morning, but now it was cloying on her damp frame.

An older man crowded next to her in the vestibule. He smiled and nodded. “You ladies like the heat, I think. It helps you to lose weight, as you perspire.” Jasmine pursed her lips and turned away.

As he left the carriage, she noticed his suit and waistcoat, knotted tie, heavy leather shoes. He pulled out a perfect square, mopped his forehead discreetly, and slipped away into the haze

After Breakfast, by Eric Smith

30/5/2014

Smelling of beer from the night before, they sat in the booth like old friends. Tats crawled up his massive arms into a wifebeater and spilled out onto his neck. Her cleavage sprouted two withered roses; she had two names inked on her neck.

“What’s your name again, cowboy?”

“Justin.”

“I’m Lucy Gallagher. What’s your line of work, Mr. Justin no-last-name?”

“Ranch work here. Roofing back in California. Those your kids names?”

“I ain’t seen ‘em since they sent me to the lockup.”

“I served five years.”

“Where to now?”

“Your place again?”

She dropped a twenty; they slid out.

Friendship, by Ann-Louise Truschel

30/5/2014

I feel comfortable with you. I can’t say that about everybody. Most people never even try to have a conversation with me.”

“I know how you feel. I don’t make friends easily either. People can’t seem to be able to relax around me, and they certainly don’t make an effort to get to know me.”

“Two peas in a pod. That’s why we understand each other. I only have one other friend. Her name is Alice.”

“That’s because you’re her cat, and she knows you can talk. How many people would ever think a cat could talk?” said the dragon.

Speed Date, by Cate Lloyd

30/5/2014

Mike, newly single and 51, thought things were going well. Bree was into property, something Mike was exploring as a next step. The talk was easy.

She leant forward, whispered, “I’ve had refurbishments done.” Mike frowned, thought of kitchen cupboards. Then she claimed ownership of something mystifying. He imagined a Carnival-clad pool boy, an unfamiliar breed of cat, a domesticated capybara (improbable).

She disappeared to the Ladies’. He took out his smartphone, entered the search and opened an image. It took a moment to work out what he was looking at.

“Whatcha doing, sweetie?” said Bree, leaning over his shoulder.

Ideas, by Russell Conover

30/5/2014

“How’s your writing going, sweetie?” Madelyn asked.

Jim sighed. “Not well. I have all these great ideas on paper, but I just can’t seem to form a good story.”

To his astonishment, the word “dragon” suddenly started moving on the page, until it had paired itself with “lightning”. “Holiday” slid across the paper until it was side-by-side with “tangerine”. “Sneeze” whisked its way over until it was beside “horticulture”.

“Scratch that, honey,” Jim called out. “All of a sudden, I’m getting some unusual ... connections ... here.Inspired, he rushed to his computer keyboard.

Elections Matter, by Robert Weisser

30/5/2014

“Cameron’s not my president.”

Jan had had enough. She turned sideways in her chair. “He won the election, Ron. That makes him our president.”

Surprised by the pushback, Ron blustered, “I didn’t vote for him, that socialist.”

Jan started to get in Ron’s face, but Malcolm—big, quiet Malcolm—leaned in first. “Stop that crap, Ron. This is a democracy. You got a problem with the election’s outcome? Try harder next time.” He leaned back to general assent from the other members.

Jan smiled at all the nodding heads and thought, “Damn! We’ve got a shot at making this work!”

Tango-ed by Emma Baird

30/5/2014

“Are you sure about this?” Teenage girl 1 asked teenage girl 2.

“Yes, you always need a lot to get a decent colour. The whole bottle will do the job. Keep rubbing it in.”

Teenage girl 2 eyed the product suspiciously. It didn't half stink. Still, a holiday tan was a holiday tan. Guaranteed to knock a half-stone off one visually AND attract the attention of hot lads.

Half an hour later, teenage girls 1 and 2 regarded each other with horror. Bronzed beauties they were not. Tangerine, they most definitely were. Whose stupid idea was it to use Cuprinol?

Pic thanks to flickr.

The Beast, by Gordon Lawrie

29/5/2014

He heard it before he saw it: a strange, innocent sound, like a distant bell.

Then it appeared.

It was monstrous, fully a hundred feet in length, reaching upwards, snaking towards him, far larger than he'd imagined even in his worst, most vivid nightmares, quicker, quicker than he could run, and with bright, shining eyes that followed him wherever he tried to take cover.

But there was no hiding place. The beast was on him in no time, opened its mouth and swallowed him.

"Welcome to Edinburgh's Trams, sir," came a voice from within. "Do you have a valid ticket?"

Coffee And, by Eric Smith

27/5/2014

At 1:25 A.M., Joe was the only customer.

“What’re your pies, June?”

“Banana cream.”

“Okay—and coffee. When do you get off?”

“That’s pretty insulting, Joe. I have a son your age—about 25, right? Where’s this heading?”

“I like older women.”

“So, now you’re calling me old? My guess? You got nothing going and you’re curious what it’s like to get it on with someone my age. I already know what would happen and how it would end. Besides, what makes you think I don’t have a boyfriend?”

“Just a feeling.”

“Keep those to yourself and eat your pie.”

By Vanessa Adams

27/5/2014

Mike hurried inside. The hall was empty but the kitchen beyond was not. He rocked to a halt, mouth dry.

Beyond the kneeling doctor he glimpsed a flannel nightdress and stocking clad legs, one knee bent behind the other. And there was blood, a lot of it, pooled on the rough wooden floor boards where one white hand lay stranded. More blood had splashed over a narrow bottom stair and a spray of it was flung across one whitewashed wall.

The doctor turned, revealing the corpse’s face. Mike flinched. Remembered snatches of gossip and whispers sent his mind whirling

Flash Fiction, by Gordon Lawrie

25/5/2014

He'd spent the day tediously rewiring the bathroom when he'd rather have written 100-word stories on LinkedIn. As he'd done the safety checks, especially the earthing, he'd turned his latest FFF idea over in his head. He'd saved a fortune using a DIY manual instead of an electrician.

Now, as he soaked in his well-earned bath, he thought: it has to be exactly 100 words; none of this 'almost 100' stuff.

Soon, the bath had done its job. In his head, he had a dead-on-a-hundred story that required immediate posting. He reached towards the heated towel-rail for a towel and

By Kimberly Cecchini

25/5/2014

This might be the first poem ever to make it onto the FFF website.

Not much more than a rag doll

she folds east, her molted

braids sweep slowly

on top of the shoulders of an

oversized T. on the steps

to the avenue, she leans

and tucks in locking

onto me…expectantly.

I scurry and fade past

her thin eyes

with my head bowed,

to the early morning rush.

Enough Said, by Megan Weller

24/5/2014

The door opened. I waited with anticipation, but they didn't stop. Heavy, booted feet clunk as they walk by on the cold tile.

"I’m here. I’m here. You’re here to see me."

But nothing. The crowd dissipated as everyone went about their tasks. A busy women tossed green and yellow bits in a bowl just above.

I crawled toward the edge of the table, but a patterned apron blocked my view. I waited there, licking my chops until the woman turned.

One quick motion and the bowl was on the floor. The kitchen filled with yelling voices.

"They noticed."

What Is Your Ideal Career? by Jane Reid

24/5/2014

What is your favorite color?
Lavender
Magenta
Cerise
Eggshell

What is your favorite breakfast?
Pizza
Quiche
Doughnuts
Enchiladas

What would you do if a squirrel was at your window?
Shoot it
Shoo it off
Bring it in and make it a pet
Call animal control

Who would you like to meet?
Isaac Newton
Shakespeare
Douglas Adams
Charles Dodgson

What do your friends call you?
Timid
Annoying
Boring
Boastful

How do you like to spend time?
Helping my kids with homework
Weeding the garden
Sorting papers to be shredded
Taking quizzes online

You are a
QUIZTAKER

You know these quizzes are silly and prove nothing. You know you are wasting time that could be better used. So why don’t you go do it? The only activity sillier than taking these quizzes must be composing them.

Internet Security, by Eric Smith & Gordon Lawrie

24/5/2014

This story by Gordon Lawrie was too long to qualify as FFF until Eric Smith edited it.

Staring at his computer, he screamed: "George!!!!" Six boys appeared instantly, as did his wife, Georgina.

He roared, "Someone's guessed my eBay password. I've lost thousands. Who gave it away?"

"Not I, father," said each George.

"Don't lie; which of you was it?"

Georgina tried to calm him. "George, perhaps someone just guessed –"

"Who's gonna guess a password like 'George'?"

Calmly, Georgina said, "Why not just change it, George, dear?"

He grunted at the screen. "'Pick a password, at least six letters.'" He started typing F******.

"Boys, I'm gonna have to call you a new name, now," he said.

Fresh Air, by Russell Conover

24/5/2014

The illness had kept her bed-ridden for weeks. Fortunately, she’d made a tremendous physical recovery. She was able to walk and eat again, and she was functioning normally. However, her spirits still weren’t where they used to be.

“Maybe some fresh air would do some good?” a relative suggested.

So, the two of them took a slow walk down the hall of the hospital until they reached the sliding glass doors. When they stepped into the sunshine, she stopped and hugged her friend, whispering “Thank you” as a tear fell down her cheek.

Little things go a long way.

Animal Detectives Annihilated Poachers, by Len Nourse

24/5/2014

“Yap…You two are forgetting my instructions. I said only to attack when I was nipping their legs and eagle clawing their heads.

“Utter…Jackal your plan as first lieutenant sucks, and we reject them. Gorilla, let’s do as we planned.”

“Grunt…Yeah baboon, lets. JP’s firing will distract the thugs. They won’t expect our attack.”

“Utter…Jackal, get busy as planned. Eagle is already attacking their heads.”

“WHOW-kayow-kwow…What kept you Jackal? Gorilla and Baboon have already flattened the thugs. It was easy once I had them protecting their heads.”

“Well done team, I see the police are not needed,” said JP.

Evolution, by Jane Reid

23/5/2014

The hungry egret swooped low. Ripples of underwater motion visible between the water lilies tempted its appetite.
The young fish saw the moving shadow overhead, and knew it meant danger. Some hurried under the vegetation. But as the big bird fed, stalking through the water, it bent the stalks and exposed some of the panicked fry.
One youngster, perhaps wiser than the rest, sought refuge in a hole in the side of the pond.
The hole was the home of a large, hungry bass.

By Amy Friedman

23/5/2014

She never walked without fear. Every pothole, every curb, every alley and every doorway, shielded a darkness ready to rise and engulf her world. As she walked, she counted her steps. Every block, every door, and every home had its number of steps, and she had to know her end of day total. If she forgot a number, she had to walk the count again. Otherwise, the darkness would release, and the safety of her small house would be lost forever. Every day she counted her steps, over and over, dreading the day her rituals no longer contained the darkness.

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"Classic"
100-Word
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Friday Flash Fiction
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