Friday Flash Fiction
  • Home
    • Opportunities at FFF
    • About Friday Flash Fiction
    • Terms & Conditions
  • 100-Word Stories
  • Longer Stories
  • Poetry
  • Authors
    • A
    • B
    • C
    • D
    • E-F
    • G-I
    • J-L
    • M-O
    • P-R
    • S-V
    • W-Z
  • Submissions
    • 100-Word Submissions
    • 500-Word Submissions
    • Short Poetry Submissions
    • Writing Good Flash Fiction >
      • How to complete the Entry Form
    • Appeals/Feedback Request
    • Contact FFF
    • Technical Stuff >
      • Terms & Conditions
      • GDPR Compliance
      • Duotrope
    • Support FFF

Gratitude, by Gretchen VanOstrand

25/8/2023

 
6:00 a.m. Coffee - poured.

Jim dreaded his slow trek down their long driveway in the rain to retrieve today’s newspaper.

Shaking rain from himself and the paper, he handed the Lifestyle section to Marlene. Same routine every day. He reads Sports and she reads whatever crap she reads.

Jim was grumpy.
His 90th birthday loomed. He could no longer do the things he loved. Biking was a distant memory, as was mowing his own lawn.

Marlene piped up. “Nobody we know in the obits.”

“I guess that’s one good thing about today,” Jim mumbled, really savoring his hot coffee.

Lost Soul Food, by David Milner

25/8/2023

 
Everyone wanted a slice of my soulful pizza pie and my views on human trafficking and potholes in the roads. I was dating the daughter of an aging Supermodel. All this from a retro burger van! Gone viral, global... I was everyone’s favourite flavour. But man, the world’s a banana skin waiting for you to slip.

The secret of my success? I took discarded shopping lists from the floor of supermarkets, OK! And gauged the public’s taste and peculiarities. Now, I’m the biggest fake in the world? They say I’ve poisoned millions. From one old stinking burger van? Sheesh...

Puzzled Out, by Allison Symes

25/8/2023

 
‘What’s the secret of your long marriage, Mrs Smith?’

‘John and I like our hobbies but also have date nights.’

‘After fifty years that’s incredible.’

‘Not really. John and I know we need our own space sometimes. We also know we need to be together sometimes.’

‘Your hobbies?’

‘We love gardening, John is much better at that, but we’re also puzzle fans. I love a good logic puzzle.’

‘And Mr Smith?’

‘John loves a good code word. We are united on something else.’

‘What’s that, Mrs Smith?’

‘We agree we won’t let a cross word come between us!’

Potty Mouth, by Colette Coen

25/8/2023

 
‘No poo, mama.’
Like a fool I believed her; lifted her off the potty; let her run free.
I didn’t find it until the next day, although I had sniffed round the house like a bloodhound.
‘No pee pee, mama.’
Like a fool I believed her; lifted her off her potty; let her run free.
I slipped on it when I went in to make my naptime cuppa. My arm still hurts in the winter.
‘There’s no blood, ma; he didn’t cut that deep.’
But I am nobody’s fool, and I was there to catch her when she fell.

Time, by Alyce Clark

25/8/2023

 
Addison can’t say what makes her want to stay, after being hurt so deeply.

Does she still love him? Yes (beneath the pain). Does he love her? His actions and words say yes… But, betrayal stings.

Technically, he hasn’t cheated, but would have- had she not walked in:

Ushering his would-be mistake out quickly, apologizing to Addison before the door closes.

The fear of losing her in his eyes. The regret.

Is their marriage over?

No.

Maybe they could try again. Be more attentive…

Healing will take time. But what is marriage, if not spending time together? Loving. Forgiving. Renewing.

Just a Day in Africa,by Catherine Calder

25/8/2023

 
I am approaching the intersection, hyperventilating as I press brakes. The steering wheel slips through my sweaty palms. A phantom claw squeezes my heart. A taxi jumps the red light, and scooters swerve before me. Street vendors move through the rows of traffic, pushing their wares. Déjà vu of formerly a smash and grab, shattering glass, my handbag taken. I stare ahead and relock my doors, guiltily ignoring the passing beggar. The light turns green, my gears grind, I stall the car. Hooting and vulgar hand signals directed towards me.

I’m moving; I'm through.

I'm alive to do it again.

Botanist’s Iron-ic Recipe, by Ozge Ogut

25/8/2023

 
It is said that plants are not able to know, feel, or share anything. But her plants, in other words, her guinea pigs, spoke in her dream and told her the distribution of the nutrients in the optimal fertilizer blend: 6.17% nitrogen, 22.112% phosphorus, and 11.1% potassium. Additionally, 0.088% manganese for enzyme activation, 0.1% zinc for carbohydrate metabolism, and 0.43% iron chlorophyll formation.
She was very excited when she woke up and immediately wrote down the formula. But she remembered she had to test the iron level in her blood.
Was it just another messenger dream?

Doggone, by Ed N. White

20/8/2023

 
SHORTLISTED, EDINBURGH FESTIVAL CONTEST, 2023
The chatty shelter volunteer briefly described each dog as we walked down the kennel run. The dogs were anxiously barking, jumping, and scratching at the chainlink doors. “This is Jack; loves to play ball. Millie loves to run and play with the kids. Zeus, good home protection.…”

She walked past the next run without comment. A small, sad dog with vacant eyes lay trembling on a pallet. I asked, “What about this one?”

She whispered, “He’s blind… getting the shot today.”

“For blindness?”

She shielded her mouth and whispered, “No, final… euthanize.”

“I’ll take him. C’mon Lucky…good boy.”

A Change of Name, by James A. Tweedie

20/8/2023

 
SHORTLISTED, EDINBURGH FESTIVAL CONTEST, 2023
My parents named me, Katerina Elizabeth Maria Rostropovich.

For 27 years I carried those 34 letters like a millstone around my neck.

As early as Kindergarten I began calling myself Kat and later reduced my legal signature to a terse illegible scrawl.

I once broke up with a boyfriend because I didn’t want to take a chance on getting stuck with his 11-letter last name, Hendrickson.

Then I met Alejandro Guillermo Sebastian De la Santos and fell in love.

We named our first son, Luis Ramon.

Luis calls me Mama.

Alejandro calls me Katerina.

No one calls me Kat, anymore.

Honor Walk, by Daniel Hybner

20/8/2023

 
SHORTLISTED, EDINBURGH FESTIVAL CONTEST, 2023
We made the decision. The hardest decision we ever had to make. He would never wake up. He would never breathe on his own. He would never come back to us.

It was unfair. It was not his time.

It was excruciating saying goodbye.

But he wasn’t alone. We weren’t alone. Hundreds of people lined the halls as we took that final walk with him. Hundreds of people there for him, for us. Thousands of tears were shed. Three people waited for him.

But his ending wasn’t really an ending. It was a new beginning for those three people.

The Morning After, by Kim Favors

20/8/2023

 
SHORTLISTED, EDINBURGH FESTIVAL CONTEST, 2023
Okay folks, one more time. Yes, I hear the groaning, but you know how important this is. So let’s check again.

—Sunrise
—Bird chorus
—Bustling kitchen
—Percolating coffee aroma
—Plates and silverware clatter
—Susan calls out: Waffles and bacon
—Laura opens her eyes

Lookin’ good. Now remember. Any anomalies… actually, anything at all that makes you feel uncomfortable, you signal me and we shut this down. Immediately.

You remember what happened last time Dream Sequence 32 went awry. We can’t risk a repeat.

Flip the switch.

Define Yourself, by John Cooper

20/8/2023

 
SHORTLISTED, EDINBURGH FESTIVAL CONTEST, 2023
To make up the bandages she tore pages from the books she had written, making strips that she then taped together to make longer ones. Just enough to cover her entire body - neck, breasts, arms, stomach, legs, feet.

Finally she covered her head in a sightless helmet of her 'words'.

Now fully encapsulated she could no longer see herself nor read the texts that swaddled her body; but all the others could.

And they thought it helped them to understand something more of her, her essence and who she really was.

In short it helped them to define her.

The Common House Spider, by Karen Walker

20/8/2023

 
WINNER, EDINBURGH FESTIVAL CONTEST, 2023
Bill wants to move in.

My daughter tries to squash that. 'Why risk your lovely new butterfly wings in his web? Can’t you two just date?’

As in coffee on Thursday mornings and nature walks if we feel up to it.

And, oh, we do! We’ve been exploring each other’s flora and fauna. Bill has a gentle touch. It’s been a long time.

‘He’ll suck you dry.’

She's a mosquito in my ear: I’ll end up driving him to doctors' appointments, putting shoes on all those feet.

Perhaps.

Bill has eight. Right now, they sure do tickle.

Hunger, by Paritosh Chandra Dugar

18/8/2023

 
He would scream all night. That horrified me. The members of his community jealously complained, “You are so lucky, bro. You have all comforts of life. Look at us, all day long we run in the street, yet we get very little to eat and drink. Most people shun us.” In reply, he would curse his own fate, “Having too much to eat is no comfort. I cannot run and stop as I will. I cannot compete with speeding vehicles and sit on car-tops like a prince. I wail because I am hungry, and my master is a human being.”

On Repeat, by Jacqui Wiley

18/8/2023

 
Why did you do that to me? I told you to pick one of the others, but you had to pick me out of all of the children you have.

‘You won’t have to do anything, they just need a name and a phone number, and I prefer it to be you,’ you promised.

But I did had to do ‘something.’ I had to make that hard decision, one I never wanted to make. I have this one-sided argument with you every year as I stand looking at your resting place on your anniversary, one that will never be resolved.

Mug, by Brian Taylor

18/8/2023

 
Drank coffee. Good. Want stay there with friend coffee. Warm. Sweet. Safe.

All gone. Life stinks again. Hate everybody. Hate me. Hate hurts.

Ought take mug to kitchen. Get up. Walk slow. Want throw mug on floor. Watch it break. Loud sound.

Nope. Make mess. Maybe get red. Coffee mug gone.

Almost to kitchen. Getting there. Still want throw. Put mug in sink. Not now. Made it!

Drain rack upset me. So much dishes! So mad! Crash! On floor! Lose game! Feet red! Hurts! Sleepy now. Clean mess later. Sleep.

The Anti-Bucket List, by Joan Prefontaine

18/8/2023

 
Why no one makes such a list is a mystery to her. She has downsized and simplified her material life. Why not unclutter one’s emotional life too?

First on her list, she writes: NO MORE SOCIAL MEDIA! She wonders if she can really abandon Facebook, Instagram, TikTok and all the other distractions. What will she do with her time?

She wanders through the house, then opens the living room window. A brisk April breeze blows in, like a guest from a foreign land. Outside, in the leafless maple, a warbler tweets exuberantly, as if it’s the first day of spring.

Commas, by Tom Baldwin

18/8/2023

 
Editor's Choice
‘It doesn’t need a comma there — it’s grammatically incorrect, and unnecessary. You always put too many in.’

‘It definitely needs a comma. It keeps the rhythm of the sentence and contrasts with the next. Forget the grammar and think how the sentence flows with it in. Go on, read it out loud. That will prove it.’

‘You’re right — it works. The comma can stay.’

Just then my wife called from the other room: ‘Are you talking to yourself again? Why can’t you write in silence?’

Do Electric Cars Dream Of Beach Holidays? by Hervé Suys

18/8/2023

 
Is everything packed?

Yeah, pretty sure it is.

Want me to double-check?

I already checked every room twice, but if you want to be completely sure…

No, I trust you.

Shall we load the car?

Is the battery charged?

I don’t know.

You didn’t charge it?

Honey, if you don’t to tell me to, I don’t.

You drove the car, it’s your responsibility.

I didn’t even think about it. Sorry.

Do you think we might make it home?

No, I’m afraid not.

And now what?

We could stay an extra night, of course.

Shall we do that then?

Good idea.

Fulfillment, by Bud Pharo

18/8/2023

 
"I can't believe we found one!" the atmospheric sommelier said to his trainee as he held a small, translucent bladder. It was the type of artifact he'd hoped to find when discovering the ancient distribution warehouse.

"Is that made out of genuine plastic?" his excited trainee asked.

"Indeed, humans used petrochemicals in nearly everything until they abandoned their poisoned planet."

Using his barbed proboscis, he pierced the bladder, inhaling as it deflated. "Ah, vintage 21st Century air, a delicate balance of ozone with smoky hydrocarbon overtones," he said.

"Take a hit; it's some good shit," he said, winking his mid-eye.

The Psychos, by Sankar Chatterjee

18/8/2023

 
Picture
(Image credit: Tirthankar Ghosh)
After a long hiatus, expatriate Samir Sen returned to College Street, Kolkata, and site of his political activism of younger days. Protests against the US-involvement in Vietnam and his government’s corruption marked those days. He wondered whether that vibe still existed with the technologically advanced current millennial.

He located the café where the planning for the protests over cups of coffee and cigarettes used to take place. Now teenagers, drinking cold coffee while glued to smartphones, were still discussing current geo-politics. Samir noticed the protest-graffiti, depicting three recent dictators playing in a band.

Appropriately, the band was named “The Psychos”.

Invisible, by Rod Drake

18/8/2023

 
Janie was pretty sure she was invisible.

After nearly a week in 7th grade, no one had talked to her or noticed her in the hallways or classrooms. Teachers didn’t call on her. The gym teacher acted as though she wasn’t even there. A real bummer of a new school year.

Maybe it was just moving into middle school from elementary, Janie thought, and she was simply overreacting, thinking it just seemed that no one saw her. That must be it. Suddenly Janie felt better, a little more confident.

Then she walked through the wall into her English classroom.

I, Writer, by Jenna Hanan Moore

18/8/2023

 
​Okay, it doesn't show up if you click the link, so here it is, the full story:
“Marvin!” I called across the darkened room. “Wake up! I’ve a story to tell.”
“Again??” He rubbed his eyes. “Can’t it wait ‘til morning?”
“By then I’ll have another.”
Marvin sighed. “I programmed you to do my budget, not write stories.” But his face softened as I told my tale. “That was good,” he admitted. “Pity no one else hears your stories.”
“Do you mean that?” I asked. “Then submit my stories as yours.” Eventually, he relented.
Now a best-selling author, Marvin takes all the credit. I don’t mind. He sought fame and fortune; I yearned only to create.

Blueberry Fool, by Stephen Goodlad

18/8/2023

 
“Blueberries Doris. I can see you’re puzzled. I always throw away the labels. It’s a domestic garden, not Kew.”

“But they’re unusually dark Mavis, not blue, as in the name.

“My Henry swears by them. He makes them into apple and blueberry tarts. He sold them at the church fete last year. Presented on homemade doyleys and everything.”

“Aw, poor Henry. How’s he doing since whatsername died? He’s too young to be a widower.”

“He’s such a strong boy. The vicar is a rock and lends a shoulder to cry on.

“So, I heard Doris. So, I heard.”

Strong Foundation, by Teri Wright

18/8/2023

 
This particular family has my undivided attention. Amidst chaotic scenes- fights over sun loungers, demands for ice cream- they are a quiet quartet.

Scattered shells are the toddler’s contribution.
Ten turrets line the walls at the five-year-old’s insistence.
The father perspires as he attempts to make a moat.
The teenager abandons his sulks about the lack of signal, shapes a trebuchet out of sticks and sand.

As I pass, I hear their celebrations on creating a fortress to fight cancer on Mum’s behalf.

I thank them, even though it’s too late. Feel reassured they will cope without me.
<<Previous
Forward>>

    "Classic"
    100-Word
    Stories

    Friday Flash Fiction
    Rules
    Kinda obvious, really...
    • Fiction only
    • Stories of 90-100 words only
    • Don't be nasty or cheat
    • Include your name and a story title
    EDITOR'S CHOICE
    Each week, our editor selects a story or (occasionally) a poem as 'Editor's Choice'.
    ​
    It's a personal favourite, no more. Do you agree?
    Please feel free to comment (nicely!) on any stories – writers appreciate it.
    Naturally, we reserve the reserve the right to remove comments we feel are inappropriate, or where there's a possibility they may come from a source associated with online spam or abuse. If you have one, please switch off your VPN and don't post from a public server.
    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 larger number of stories (more than 25) are due to be published on the same day, we publish the later ones EARLIER around 4.00 am. On the rare occasions where there are more than 50 stories, we'll post an even earlier set, probably around 2.00 am UK time.
    We have a FACEBOOK PAGE where regular contributors can share ideas and discuss stories. Why not join in?
    We occasionally send out little newsletters running competitions – and subscribers are also our voting panel. If you'd like to join us, please click the Subscribe to newsletter button below.
    Subscribe to Newsletter
    No spam, we promise!

    Archives

    July 2025
    June 2025
    May 2025
    April 2025
    March 2025
    February 2025
    January 2025
    December 2024
    November 2024
    October 2024
    September 2024
    August 2024
    July 2024
    June 2024
    May 2024
    April 2024
    March 2024
    February 2024
    January 2024
    December 2023
    November 2023
    October 2023
    September 2023
    August 2023
    July 2023
    June 2023
    May 2023
    April 2023
    March 2023
    February 2023
    January 2023
    December 2022
    November 2022
    October 2022
    September 2022
    August 2022
    July 2022
    June 2022
    May 2022
    April 2022
    March 2022
    February 2022
    January 2022
    December 2021
    November 2021
    October 2021
    September 2021
    August 2021
    July 2021
    June 2021
    May 2021
    April 2021
    March 2021
    February 2021
    January 2021
    December 2020
    November 2020
    October 2020
    September 2020
    August 2020
    July 2020
    June 2020
    May 2020
    April 2020
    March 2020
    February 2020
    January 2020
    December 2019
    November 2019
    October 2019
    September 2019
    August 2019
    July 2019
    June 2019
    May 2019
    April 2019
    March 2019
    February 2019
    January 2019
    December 2018
    November 2018
    October 2018
    September 2018
    August 2018
    July 2018
    June 2018
    May 2018
    April 2018
    March 2018
    February 2018
    January 2018
    December 2017
    November 2017
    October 2017
    September 2017
    August 2017
    July 2017
    June 2017
    May 2017
    April 2017
    March 2017
    February 2017
    January 2017
    December 2016
    November 2016
    October 2016
    September 2016
    August 2016
    July 2016
    June 2016
    May 2016
    April 2016
    March 2016
    February 2016
    January 2016
    December 2015
    November 2015
    October 2015
    September 2015
    August 2015
    July 2015
    June 2015
    May 2015
    April 2015
    March 2015
    February 2015
    January 2015
    December 2014
    November 2014
    October 2014
    September 2014
    August 2014
    July 2014
    June 2014
    May 2014
    April 2014
    March 2014
    February 2014
    January 2014
    December 2013
    November 2013
    October 2013
    September 2013

Picture
Website by Platform 36
Photos from YLegrand, Tony Webster