Blog Archives

The Beach Trip, by Russell Conover

29/6/2018

Jack and his son Frank were having a blast at the beach. They had a nice hotel room, but spent almost every minute by the ocean.

Frank, age eight, built elaborate sand castles and lounged in the ocean on his lizard float. He felt so relaxed on the waves.

Until, that is, he heard an odd rasping from his float. He looked for a leak, until noticing the plastic expanding and contracting. The float was breathing! Frank's eyes widened, and he hightailed it to shore, panicking.

Jack doubted the story. But then the float winked at Frank. Doomsday had arrived.

Hyacinth, by Marjan Sierhuis

29/6/2018

Hyacinth’s home is an oasis of tranquility. It is surrounded by ponds, barns, walking trails, flower and vegetable gardens.

A cacophony of sounds from pigs, donkeys, turkeys, horses, cows and ducks constantly remind her that she is among friends.

She loves it when the local school children and their parents stop by her wooden fence, talk and stroke her head.

But she is lonely. She wants some company in her large goat paddock. The poultry who like to drop in and roam have their own agenda.

She will wait for the farmer to return Cedric. She hopes it is soon.

The Sun, by Roland Tye

29/6/2018

Thais always walk in the shade. When they walk at all. They seldom do. Jackets cover their arms. Trousers conceal their legs. Baby powder masks their whitened faces. Umbrellas become parasols. They think me mad. This crazy Scotsman basking in the sun’s full glare. Decked out in shorts and shirt sleeves. My skin turning a reddish gold in the heat. They can never understand my love for the sun. For they have never lived without its glorious munificence. They have never known what it is to be truly cold.

Frozen Dinners, by Adam Smith

29/6/2018

Computer woke seventeen engineers from cryogenic slumber.

“You must repair the ship. We have collided with several
meteors. There are five thousand colonists to deliver.”

When the job was done, the crew could not be returned to sleep.

There was food aboard to keep them alive for three years.

“We are ninety-six years from our destination,” Computer reported.

The crew resolved to consume colonists as needed. They must survive to see the ship safely to its destination.

There were one hundred sixty-four colonists remaining when they arrived.

The cannibals were slaughtered, too old and frail to defend themselves.

Computer wept.

Steamy, by Gordon Lawrie

29/6/2018

The car windows had steamed up, hinting at what they were up to inside. He snuggled up close to her.

She smiled knowingly as he placed his hand gently on her thigh. Gradually, his hand crept towards her lap, but she pushed it away.

"Go on," he pleaded. His hand crept up her thigh again.

"No." She pushed the hand away again.

The pantomime repeated twice more then suddenly she smacked the back of his hand hard.

"Ow!" he said. "That hurt!"

"I warned you," she said. "You've eaten all of your fish and chips. What's here is all mine."

Support, by Justin Wall

29/6/2018

“Hey, big guy!” said Charles, “are you all set for the presentation today?”

“Yes!”, I replied. “I was putting the final touches to it and then next thing I know, it's 3am. I'm knackered!”

“You need to get back out there. I’m here if you need advice buddy.” said Charles.

He has a point; my last relationship was over two years ago – it did not end well.

“Should I join a dating agency?” I asked.

“I am your friend, not a therapist. Now get me some bloody breakfast!” he replied.

Charles was right - I need to get out more.

Football, Humanity’s Last Best Hope, Sankar Chatterjee

28/6/2018

American Sheena and Tom finished visiting Mexico City’s iconic Metropolitan Cathedral. Once outside, they found the square was exploding with joy. Hours before, this Central American city entered into a zombie-zone. Last humiliating defeat at world-cup football had raised doubts about advancement.

Then, a small South-East Asian nation, with no chance of advancement, fought gallantly reigning champion, thus eliminating them while resurrecting this country. Soon thousands, singing and waving flags of both countries, arrived at that country’s embassy to thank their brave players.

The couple simultaneously pondered “And while erecting a wall, we’re separating babies from mothers’ arms at borders!”

King Crab, by Greg Michaelson

25/6/2018

In the seafood restaurant, I was idly watching the tank of live king crab opposite my table, when I realised that the one closest to me was frantically tapping out a message on the glass in Morse code:

“SOS SOS SOS…”

Astonished, I learnt towards the tank.

“Thank goodness someone still speaks Morse. If you can get me out of here, I can tell you where to find the sunken treasure…”

The waiter took the lid off the tank, fished out the floundering king crab and plunged it into the saucepan of boiling water.

A Wish, by Sankar Chatterjee

25/6/2018

Comrade GC (“norm de guerre”), a bright student was in the forefront of left-leaning political movement in college. Born in post-colonial India, he dreamed of a utopian nation of wealth-equality and fair-justice. But that was three decades ago. New country, abandoning path of socialism, chased west’s capitalism. Along came wealth-inequality, nationalism, and religious-fundamentalism.

Comrade GC was watching telecast games of ongoing World-cup Football. To his dismay, portraits of historic revolutionary leaders of the host nation couldn’t be spotted anywhere. “I guess the revolution had been long dead. Wish Facebook and Twitter were already there to spread the news,” murmured comrade.

Last Call? by Adam Smith

25/6/2018

The old ferryman held out a skeletal hand, awaiting payment.

"I- I have no penny," I stuttered.

The ancient fingers curled, closing the hand as the ferryman turned away.

"Charon, wait!" I cried, "I have something better."

I stood on the bank of the River Acheron and waited while he made up his mind.

He turned and looked at the object in my hand. I think he smiled as he reached for the iPhone.

As I boarded the ferry to the Underworld, I wondered who he might call.

Then I heard the gravelly voice speak into the device, "Hello, Pizza?"

Relationships, by Krystyna Fedosejevs

24/6/2018

She wrapped her chicness around his torso. He responded verbally. She snapped. He slid her off.

As she bolted across the street, he began the trek home. He entered a familiar park, heard the songbirds they both loved. An elderly couple cuddled on ‘their’ bench.

If he had arrived with her, he would’ve taken two coffee mugs out. Instead, he changed clothes. Hung his shirt in the closet; within its creases her fading perfume pulsed. He sat down. Let imagination color the blank wall before him.

She would return soon.

He had time to compose what he should say next.

Education, by Don Tassone

23/6/2018

Joe never wanted to go to college. He couldn’t wait to graduate from high school and start making money.

Joe hired on with a construction crew. He made good money fast, even as most of his friends were taking out college loans. But just a few years later, most of his friends were making more than Joe.

At 55, when his friends were starting to retire, Joe was still working, his broken body wracked with pain. He had enough money for his wife and himself, but it would take him another 10 years to help pay off his kids’ tuition.

Nirvana Can Wait, by Ian Fletcher

23/6/2018

“We must free ourselves from our egos, Ian, to merge as one with the universe,” she avers.

“Yeah,” I say.

“We must abandon the self, for it’s an illusion,” she continues.

“However, the illusion is real,” I contend, thinking of the age-old unresolved paradoxes of appearance and reality every philosophy 101 student wrestles with.

“We are deceived by the Veil of Maya!” she counters triumphantly.

“Ah,” I concur, unconvinced.

There is something in her insistence, the way she appropriates the pronoun ‘we’ that makes ‘me’ want to run away, for there seems no one with a bigger ego than she.

A History Lesson, by Sankar Chatterjee

23/6/2018

Three score and ten years ago, Mr. Victor Charnoff, an allied young lawyer from US was presenting the cases against captured top Nazi leaders in the Nuremberg Trial. Everyone denying individual guilt would proclaim innocence uttering “Eine bestellung ist eine bestellung” (“An order is an order”), as if there was no individual crime or shame.

Now at the sunset of his life, he’s been closely following the current events unfolding in nation’s borders. In a newspaper report, majority of the interviewed security-deputies involved in executing inhumane treatment of the refugees uttered “An order is an order”.

His pounding-heart stopped momentarily!

Final Verdict, by Xavier Barzey

23/6/2018

I watched him pick at the bones of the dead devouring it with haste and pride. He was happy with his work, proud of the pain he caused the living before they had perished. I sobbed at the thought of knowing him at some point in my life. As my body lifted off the arid soil and hovered through the thick air. Looking on at a life that was once mine. My heart no longer beats, but I knew my soul would finally rest as the judge read the final verdict, “Father found guilty and would serve life in prison.”

Inundation, by Tristan Deeley

22/6/2018

The world is bending your back. Every night, my Noah, you pick more animals out of your scarf, the heirloom smelling of sea salt and dyed blue from where the sky and sea bled into the fabric. The saved souls are led carefully into your ark. My fingers cramp and ache from reknitting those azure threads under each moon, keeping them tight enough to ensnare paws, to trap creatures in the folds. Those lives that weigh the heaviest are the ones lost in the gossamer waves.

The Subway Platform, by Marjan Sierhuis

22/6/2018

This morning I see her once again. She is standing alone on the subway platform. I try not to stare but I can’t help myself. I am mesmerized by her beauty and watch her tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

Suddenly she turns her head and looks in my direction. Our eyes meet for the briefest of seconds. A smile plays at the corners of her mouth and wonder if it is meant for me. I can only hope.

As the train pulls into the station she hurriedly moves forward. I follow her through an open door.

Foot Prints, by Ipsita Dash

22/6/2018

She had just lost her love. She dreamed walking along the beach, saw two sets of footprints.She would see for every happy memory there were two sets of prints and for sad ones see would see only one set of footprint. Just then she heard the whispers "You are not alone in your life, am always there with you in your happy times and in difficulty I will carry you."Thus she gave her sweetest smile and ran free with hope and vigor to rule the world and fulfil all her dreams. She sang " I believe I can fly."

A Wizard's Last Word, by Adam Smith

22/6/2018

The ancient wizard was dying.

He wandered the wood that had been his home.

He looked out from the trees at the world of Men.

So much had changed.

He'd remained hidden too long and now his life was over.

Man had spread like a disease across the Earth, he realized.

He stepped out from the cover of the trees and took a seat on a bench in front of the local convenience store.

"Old man, you don't look so good," said a strangely-clothed boy of about fifteen years.

"Indeed," whispered the wizard, as he crumbled to dust.

Postie, by Gordon Lawrie

22/6/2018

For as long as anyone could remember, Lucy had been trotting around the neighbourhood, cheerily delivering residents' mail.

Rarely speaking to anyone, she kept an eye on vulnerable folk and the local area generally. But everyone just took Lucy for granted.

Or so she assumed. One day Lucy received a letter through the post to say that the neighbourhood had nominated her for an MBE, a low-level Honours List award. Lucy was no royalist, didn't think much of the Honours system, but was too polite to refuse. It was a nice day out, but she'd rather have been delivering mail.

Clairvoyant, by Justin Wall

22/6/2018

My wife became obsessed with the afterlife soon after our cat met his untimely demise courtesy of the number six bus. Our latest psychic was clearly having a bad day; no amount of make-up could conceal the fact she was upset.

‘I have a message from your mother’ she said. ‘Brilliant’ I replied, ‘but she only lives next door.’ She then left our house in tears.

I didn’t have the energy to tell her it was a joke; my mother has been dead for two years. All of this happened last month; my wife is still not talking to me.

The Misunderstanding, by Sarah Barthelemy

21/6/2018

"Can you see the boat yet?" Nellie asked, her voice barely audible. Lorna shook her head. They'd been waiting too long, watching the black, churning sea become one with the thunderous sky. They ran their eyes endlessly over the horizon, seeing nothing.

Lorna clutched at her friend as she sensed the cruel fingers of grief slowly crawling over her skin, searching for where they would soon rip her apart.

"Hey, whatever are you doing here?" Edward rolled down the dunes laughing. "I told you we were taking the boat out from Stella beach today. Didn't you hear me?"

Hit and Run, by Ann-Louise Truschel

20/6/2018

“Are you sure this will work, Jack?”

“Harry, it’s simple. I run into your Lexus and split. You report the hit and run to your insurance company, collect replacement value, and pay your debts.”

“I can use some money to spend on Belle. I think she’s losing interest in me.”

That afternoon the doorbell rings at Harry’s house. When Belle answers, the police officer breaks the news that Harry has been killed in a road-rage incident.

After checking with the insurance company, Belle calls a friend.

“The insurance company says I get the money – and you get the girl, Jack.”

Meltdown, by Guy Fletcher

20/6/2018

A car overtook our bus as it was pulling out, causing the motorist to let forth a torrent of abuse. Then another car was double parked meaning that the bus stood stationary in the heavy traffic.

Finally we moved on this soporific summer's day but at the next stop the driver made an announcement.

"I've had enough. Sorry folks but I just can't go on."

Two old women stopped talking about death and disease and the rest of us watched him with head in his hands. He then phoned the depot.

No one put an arm around the poor soul.

Model S, by Justin Wall

20/6/2018

My father used to adore his model railway. I often found him admiring the latest addition to his modest collection. That was, until he lost his job.

This once harmless hobby quickly became an obsession; parcels were being delivered to our house at an alarming rate. Our once proud patriarch soon devoted all his time to this unhealthy interest.

Last Sunday, I discovered his lifeless body slumped in a corner of our garage. Losing a parent is traumatic enough, let alone finding one with a passenger carriage rammed down his throat and the words ‘choo choo’ written on their forehead.

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

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