Blog Archives

Millions of Views, by Delvon Mattingly

14/8/2018

Play dead, Ian says. Keep the Go-Pro rolling. A bear attack? Let’s incite one and then play dead. We’ll go viral. Proximate primitive footage of a malicious beast is bound to generate views. Think about it, friend. Five, no, ten million views, enough to make us famous!

But when the bear appears, I run. I can’t help it. I abandon Ian. Don’t worry he’s okay. Well, he’s in the hospital.

I open my laptop to find a news website highlighting his story. Man Wounded After Intentionally Provoking Grizzly Bear. The story is a hit—20,000,000 views, already twice as many.

Mental Illness, by Ann-Louise Truschel

14/8/2018

“Jerry’s obsessing on all the bad things that are making his life unbearable. I hate listening, but he says he NEEDS to talk to someone. I’m ready for divorce court!”

“That’s bad, Carol. When depressed people find themselves in a hole, they tend to keep digging until there is no way out. If you continue to enable him by letting him wallow in self pity, he could very well commit suicide.”

“Really?”

“Yes, get him to a psychiatrist ASAP!”

At home, Carol makes a call.

“ACME Insurance? I’d like to take out a $500,000 life insurance policy on my husband.”

Poverty: A Human Injustice, by Sankar Chatterjee

14/8/2018

The prosecutor sharpened the slide displaying image of a $1,500-shirt worn by the crook, a law doctorate. He clandestinely propagated a foreign dictator’s interests, while hiding income overseas without paying any tax. The label “Made in Bangladesh” caught John’s immediate attention.

John, a photo-journalist was in capital Dhaka, when the poorly-built garment factory Rana-Complex collapsed like pancakes. In his first photo from the scene, the rescuers were pulling out the lifeless body of Ms. Fatima Bibi who was on a 16-hour shift ($1/day wage), while wearing an adult diaper to minimize washroom-visits.

The court has now been awaiting jury’s return.

Maschinengewehr 08, by Richard Comerford

14/8/2018

The Maxim Maschinengewehr 08 was a terrifying weapon. In addition to its deadly rapid fire of five hundred rounds per minute, it signalled its presence by a sinister accompaniment to the rattle of discharging bullets - whiplash cracks like the screams of dozens of severed high-tension wires.

Crouched at the bottom of the trench with other scared men-boys, he listened to the hell-hound howling fifty yards from their position.

The British Vickers spat back in a seemingly futile exchange.

But…. no-one dared venture up the ladder to look beyond their wire - No Man’s Land – and the German wire……

Colorful Reflection, by Russell Conover

12/8/2018

Ted gazed over the cliff, at the gorgeous sunset. He was in a thoughtful mood, after all he'd experienced that week.

His girlfriend had told him she was moving out and moving on. The news stunned him, since he'd thought they were happy and destined for a long-term relationship.

The next day, he'd bought a lotto ticket, hoping for a reversal of fortune. Now, with ten grand in his pocket, he was more comfortable financially, if not emotionally.

“Keep the faith,” he told himself, gazing at the reds, oranges, and yellows in the sky. “Everything happens for a reason.”

Abe, the River-Runner, by Sankar Chatterjee

10/8/2018

He was born to poverty in a log-cabin in early-nineteenth century. In youth, he ferried villagers in his small boat, followed by struggling to lift the boat in low ebb at evening.

Dr. James Woodward, a US-inventor to several patents was watching CNN International. Europeans were mocking the current strongman by floating a diaper-clad yellow baby-blimp. Recently, James stumbled upon a historic patent. With diagrams, the patent disclosed the novel application of a pulley-system to lift a boat on river banks in low ebb. US-patent 6469 was granted to Abraham Lincoln on May 22, 1849.

James sighed “And now this”!

Mac 'n Cheese, by Kelsey Nichole Brooks

10/8/2018

I remember when my mother stopped loving us. It happened when she made us Mac n’ Cheese for dinner. She stopped loving us when she put the milk and butter in. She didn't wait long enough for the butter to melt all the way. We each got served a bowl of powdered cheese pasta and clumps of butter. My brothers and sisters started eating without realizing what was happening. My mother returned to her bedroom in silence. Perhaps she was just tired from the day I thought. Looking back down at my bowl I realized...she no longer loved us.

The Secret Agent at the Edinburgh Fringe, by Gordon Lawrie

10/8/2018

Sadly, this story isn't really fiction...

Writers had fifteen minutes each to speak about their books. I was the last of five.

My eyes were drawn towards the literary agent sitting in the audience back row. Although I'd heard much, I'd never previously laid eyes on her. People spoke her name in hushed tones: single-handedly, she turned ordinary writers into mega-rich superstars.

Her agency had rejected my first book.

Now was my chance, though. My act could sell Dostoyevsky to five-year-olds. I'd grab her attention and she'd approach me afterwards, smiling.

But... as the fourth writer ended her talk, the agent silently rose and slipped away.

The Physicist, by Guy Fletcher

10/8/2018

"Where am I? Where's Martha?"

"That's Ivor," said Gladys, the old lady I was visiting in the care home. "He used to be a physicist, Martha died 15 years ago."

Some people in the living room of the opulent home were napping, others staring into space, remembering happier times now light years away.

A nurse came over and spoke to Ivor as if he were a little child, of course mentally he had re-entered infancy. How tragic life can become, I mused.

I was relieved to escape from the home but the image of that confused man remains in my memory.

Marketing Whiz, by Don Tassone

8/8/2018

In the summer, kids in TJ’s neighborhood sold lemonade at the end of their driveways for a nickel a cup.

TJ took a different approach. He sold various flavors of Kool-Aid in plastic gallon jugs to workers building houses nearby. He showed up at their construction sites at noon on dog days and charged $2 a gallon.

At summer’s end, when the other kids were counting their coins, TJ opened a savings account and deposited more than $500, his proceeds after paying his mom for the Kool-Aid.

Today TJ makes $500 an hour as a marketing consultant.

A Few Extra Bucks, by Sankar Chatterjee

6/8/2018

It was an unusually hot summer Saturday morning in New York. Cheng Li, a Chinese PhD-student in city’s university was already late for a guest-lecture. He would decide to cut through Brooklyn’s Orthodox Jewish neighborhood. He found dazed Shlomo Rosen on sidewalk.

Cheng: You OK, Sir?
Shlomo: Air-conditioner! Not-functioning!

Entering the premise, Cheng found nothing wrong and turned it on. Shlomo offered a $10 tip.

Cheng: No need, Sir.
Shlomo: You don’t understand. Today is Sabbath; I’m not allowed to turn-on any machine.

Cheng took the bill. For next four summers, he would spend his Saturday mornings in that neighborhood.

The Red Bridge, by Don Tassone

4/8/2018

All the kids in my neighborhood crossed it on our way to school. Gently arched, the red bridge spanned a deep creek and made our journey through the woods safe and fun.

One summer evening, when I was 15, I met Lisa Jasper there. As kids, we’d crossed the bridge together many times on our way to and from school, but we’d never been there alone.

Leaning over the railing, we watched the fireflies flickering in the trees and listened to the restless murmur of the creek below. Then I turned to Lisa and kissed her, and she kissed me.

Forgiveness, by Russell Conover

4/8/2018

She was devastated when he stole her personal money and abandoned her. Initially she called the cops and tried to find him, but she had no luck. Now he, and her savings, had vanished.

She really tried to forgive him, knowing he was struggling. He wasn't in a good place emotionally, and he was only grasping for a way to get by. Sucked for her, but he was desperate.

Nope. She couldn't do it. He'd traumatized her so badly that she'd always be scarred. A lump formed in her throat, just remembering.

Moving on was the only option. Be strong.

A Long-Awaited Trip, by Chloe Ford

4/8/2018

"Did you lock the front door ?" I ask, as we clear the bridge and head out of town.

I see him wince, answer enough; "turn around".

His thoughts are as clear to me as if a bubble and words appeared above his head, but arguing is pointless.

I jump out as soon as we're back in the driveway, and feeling silly, I can't help darting inside to check on things.

The blow catches me right across my face and I know I'm going down hard, the floor comes up to meet me.

If only we'd kept on driving.

How Was Your Weekend? by Ian Fletcher

3/8/2018

Fuck! He’s at the coffee machine. No escape.

“Hey, Ian! How was your weekend?”

“OK,” I say.

“And you?” I add, as one does.

“Great! I … I …,” blah, blah, blah.

“Do anything interesting yourself?” he asks.

I trawl for some event to say something about …

“What’s your take on Trump’s decision to …?” he continues.

I have no interest in the matter (nor has he) but regurgitate an opinion to satisfy this empty chatterer.

“Nice talking to you!” he says, energized.

“You too,” I lie, already drained by 9:00 am on Monday.

Being an introvert is tough.

Hope Regained, by Guy Fletcher

3/8/2018

Danny sat with head in hands at his usual haunt: a park bench in Bute Park still not believing that his business had collapsed and all his years of toil broken like a smashed fluorescent light.

"I see you here every day," said an attractive female jogger. "Let's have a cup of coffee. Cheer you up."

Suddenly the light of hope returned to Danny's world-weary eyes. He had noticed her too but with only a cursory glance or two yet now felt excitement in his heart, compared to the grey existence of depression. He commented on the beauty of autumn trees.

The Giveaway, by Don Tassone

3/8/2018

Barbara and George had been close since they dated in high school. Too close, some said. After all, George was a married man.

They got together for lunch a lot. No one ever caught them doing anything. But everyone had a hunch something was up.

“We’re just friends,” Barbara would say if anyone mentioned it.

They both attended their 50-year high school class reunion. At dinner, George’s wife sat to his right. Barbara sat to his left.

At one point, George leaned over toward Barbara and speared a cube of steak on her plate with his fork.

Case closed.

Unworthy, by Gordon Lawrie

3/8/2018

The Women's Institute host gave a brief introduction. Elizabeth Buckley, she announced, was one of the UK's most successful writers in recent years, especially her chart-topping book series Chiropodist Chronicles.

Gazing at the blank faces, and Elizabeth knew she'd be asked any number of inane questions by her geriatric audience: Elizabeth's average reader was almost 90. Some of tonight's audience had even been ferried in from a dememntia clinic. Writers like Elizabeth were above this, surely?

Suddenly, she had a brainwave: she got up and left.

Sure enough, none of the audience even noticed, but everyone had an enjoyable evening.

From Dummies’ Get-Together, by Sankar Chatterjee

2/8/2018

They came from all over for their annual gathering, the ventriloquists and their puppets. This year, the bragging right belonged to blue-colored French soccer-dummy Marcel: “Bring on all the Messi-s, Ronaldo-s, and Neymar-s of football-world.” British red-dummy, Johnny, pint-in-hand, murmured: “Only, if we didn’t have to deal with Brexit!” Russian bare-chested Vlad smirked: “Talk about strength-difference, a TV-star with only 18 months in power against a KGB-agent in 18 years in power!” Only then, the crowd realized him missing.

Deflated yellow US dummy, his diaper dropping, was lying in the corner. The escape from Europe, over the Atlantic, was treacherous.

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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'.

Normally, 100-word stories are scheduled for 07.00 BST (GMT in the winter) on the following Friday. However, where a large number of stories (more than 25) are due to be published on the same day, we publish a second batch around 10.30am.

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