博客存档 - Friday Flash Fiction

The Coming Flood, by K.G. Song

18/8/2023

The voice from the cupboard, disjointed and muffled, reaches Ben’s ear drums, already well-pickled with tequila. From a steel box with his precious mementos. “What are you feeling tonight, Ben?”

Of all the ghosts Ben has created, she’s the most persistent. Even a bottle of tequila can’t shut her up. Especially on a rainy night, like tonight.

For Ben, born with no conscience and having never experienced regret or guilt, she’s both intriguing and annoying. Looking into her emerald green eyes for several minutes broke something inside of Ben.

Ben shudders at the thought of coming flood. Of real emotions.

Prophets Of Doom, by Brian Mackinney

18/8/2023

When John retired he embraced the new age and established a routine. His friends mocked his bacon wrap breakfasts, cups of black coffee and most of all his regular naps. Bacon would trigger heart failure, the coffee would create insomnia and the naps would dull his senses. Despite the forebodings, year after year John plodded on until opinion changed.

A hearty breakfast became an essential part of an active diet. Coffee kept the mind agile. Recent research has shown that daily snoozes increased intelligence.

“Doing a John” became a lifestyle mantra of those who derided him. Long may they live.

A Hot Car, by John M. Carlson

18/8/2023

“This car is scorching hot!” Paul said.

“Yeah,” Gwen said. “And the AC is broken.”

“Great.”

“Didn’t think it would be a problem—this summer hasn’t been hot. Until now.”

“The day I’d like AC is the day we have to use this car!”

“If you’d like, you could go back and get that car we drove earlier,” Gwen said, as she started the engine. “It probably has working AC. But it’ll be hot in another way. Reported stolen by now. Probably described by the holdup witnesses, too.”

“I guess this car isn’t so bad after all.”

Southpaw, by Keith E Maynard

18/8/2023

Someone knocked at the door. Out the window see two men in uniforms, one holding a clipboard, another with a silly grin. Both standing tall.

Opening the door ask, “Yes?”

“Is your name ***** *******?”

“Yes.”

“Someone reported that you are left-handed. Is that correct?”

“Yes.”

“You will need to come with us.”

“Why?”

“Based on historical and recent research, it has been determined lefties are, by nature, evil, sinister, and lacking mental capacity, therefore gathered and incarcerated until reprogrammed.”

“Says who?”

“The Bible, the Qur’an, the Pope, Medieval Christianity, two-thirds of the world’s population.”

“It’s for the good of social order.”

Chiaroscuro, by Cheryl Snell

18/8/2023

A woman sits astride her man and the world disappears. Shadows sweep across his face and swallow the room like a disaster meant to be mentioned only in a history book, hidden in the back of the stacks someplace where people who don’t want to know don’t have to look.

Later, when the man lights a candle, a bright spot blooms behind the silhouette of the woman. Her shadow leans toward the window and drops to the curb below where her last man is still pacing, smoking a cigar. His hands are full of ashes, his fingers licked with flame.

In the Dawn Light, by Gordon Lawrie

18/8/2023

She awoke, as so often, with the dawn light. Gazing at his rear view, she realised how much she needed him and willed him to waken.

He turned over and smiled, but his eyes remained closed.

“I can feel your power,” he said. “Bring me to life.”

Their children had long fled the nest. Now, their lives had arrived at a more patient and satisfying phase. There was no rush.

Afterwards, he said, “I know what you’re going to say.”

“Any day that starts with making love can never be a bad one,” she said, so as not to disappoint.

G Is For Gold, by Sue Clayton

18/8/2023

“Her name’s Geraldine,” I proudly carried home my golden trophy, won at the annual county fair.

“He’s George,” I told everyone the following year.

Gavin, Gloria and Gilbert soon followed.

“Too much food,” Mum scolded. I couldn’t bear to think my aquatic childhood friends were hungry.

My tears and the toilet flushed yet again.

These days my tropical aquarium teems with Angel Fish, Neon Tetras, Guppies and Swordtails, but one fish reigns supreme.

My children won him six years ago at the county fair; he thrives amongst the exotic.

Geronimo, an eight inch long goldfish, on a strict diet.

Health Care, by David Sydney

18/8/2023

It was a week of health care for Frank. Get it all done at once–that was his approach. On Monday, he saw his podiatrist for nail fungus. On Tuesday, the optometrist for refraction and new glasses. Wednesday, it was the dentist and bridgework. Thursday, his physiatrist manipulated his back. On Friday, he went to Dr. Fruman, his personal physician.

Frank limped into his 9:30 appointment with a swollen jaw, thick glasses, and a painful grimace. Had Dr. Fruman ever seen him look so ill? "Sit down immediately," said Eliot Fruman, as he called for his nurse, Danielle, to help.

What’s In a Name, By David Milner

18/8/2023

We’re shaped and moulded. Some of us through the school systems. From an early age we carry expectations. Artificially sweetened, boys and girls, or toughened to withstand the slings and arrows. I don’t blame anyone. I know a woman called Freedom – she hates her name. A colleague was christened Odin (imagine!). Changed his name by deed poll to Derek. Not a word from his parents since (imagine!).

“Fashioned into versions of our own free will”, sang Kurt Cobain while I was dreaming last night. My birth name is Dantoné. Danton, I could have lived with...

You can call me Dan.

Looking to the Future, by Sandra James

11/8/2023

‘What’s that?’

‘A book, written by my great-grandmother, with stories about her life and all her family. I never knew her but from Mum’s stories I always felt an affinity. Now, after reading it, I see so many parallels. There’s some sad stories and funny ones; I feel like I know the whole family.’

‘Wow! I wish my great-grandma left something like that. I hardly know anything about my family.’

Emily woke, immediately recalling the dream.

‘That must be my future great-granddaughter’, she realised. ‘The one without a book.’

She knew exactly what she needed to do…

Staring at the Past, by Guy Fletcher

11/8/2023

The vagrant halted in the pouring rain to observe the building in front of his world-weary eyes.

A decade or so ago a voice boomed with passion, the passion of religious fervour but the light went out of his belief like a crimson sunset cloud turning grey again.

Life was all downhill after that. He carried on preaching for a year or so but felt like an imposter. The church had now morphed into the inevitable flats.

"What are you staring at mate?" came a hostile voice from the doorway.
"I'm staring at the past."

Her Seasons, by Ruby Lyn Norada

11/8/2023

Dragonflies flitted across the emerald fields as the ancient sky, torn between laughter and tears, poured out rain amidst the blazing afternoon sun.

She spied a pair of pied fantails swooping towards a nearby banaba tree as she sat still beside her window.

Earlier today, she talked to her mother on the phone, how rural life has turned her into a recluse, but her health has gradually improved somehow.

A few months more, she thought, with these fields turning to gold and the smell of hay filling the air, she heads back to where she belongs. Everyone's waiting.

Let Me See That Crayon, by Paula Henry-Duru

11/8/2023

My little brother’s drawings were stuck on every wall in the house, but one paper was just a blank sheet. When I asked him about it, he simply pointed outside, and there in the middle of the road sat the strangest house I’d ever seen.

A round window was in place of the front door, two chimneys protruded from the side walls, and the roof was inverted like a giant V. I turned back to my brother, awestruck. He grinned, and gestured to another newly blank sheet on the wall.

“Wait till you see the dinosaurs I drew!”

And Then She Leaves, by Alyce Clark

11/8/2023

She tries, but no one listens. Family. Friends. Coworkers. Bosses.

She pours love into her marriage, but is continually ignored.

Early mornings and late nights produce no raises.

A team player who’s excluded from important meetings.

Always there for others, always alone during hard times.

Babysitter, housekeeper, chauffer- meeting the expectations of family, without reaping the benefits.

One good look in the mirror changes things. Understanding what she sees- and wants to see.

It all becomes clear- what’s needed for her life, her happiness.

She resigns, hires a divorce lawyer, make plans for a fresh start…

And then she leaves.

Strange Brew (Double Whammy), by Steven Holding

11/8/2023

They’re a volatile mix, a Molotov cocktail; pure dynamite, but on stage it works.
Jimmy’s rapid-fire patter, Vic’s yards of charm. Vegas’s favourite double act! But all straight guys tire of custard pie in the face every night.
Vic starts drinking, hitting the bar before rather than after the laughter, stinking drunk when curtain goes up, eyes spinning like a slot machine.
Vic’s sloppy, not slick; slips up, stumbling towards punchlines. Jimmy, sick of his shit, hisses he quits.
Vic knows he’s a nobody without his buddy. Fingers the pistol in his pocket.
Decides to go out with a bang.

Irreptitious Fictions, by Steven Holding

11/8/2023

Stealthily, they reveal themselves.
Another read through. He’s crept into the text again. A bad man, dead man; dad, not father. A composite, but the fact is, it’s him. Ghosts exist, as witnessed in my stories.
Always the last time seen, haunting a cancer ward, humanity eaten by disease, unable to beat it, leaving a beast behind. He died, and then came the nightmares.
Dreaming he was alive. That was what terrified me.
Memories can be suppressed, but people hold on. Pop up when you least expect, reflected in a sentence, a characters intent.
I kill him off once again.

VIP, by Nichole Turnbloom

10/8/2023

He couldn't wait until he turned 18, so he lied. Walked into the recruitment office and signed on the dotted line. He later told his wife he had been in the Green Beret, was missing-in-action, gone awol. He woke her with nightmares, had scars that ran across his torso like pulled lightning. He wanted to turn himself in. They walked to the local recruitment office while the baby napped in the stroller.

There are no records for anyone of that name.

I was a top-secret agent, maybe you don’t have access to those names.

They walked home in silence.

Interstellar Sulk, by Paula Nicolson

10/8/2023

I’m Voyager 2, and I’m miffed.

NASA commanded me to tweak my antennae. I knew it wasn’t right at the time, but what do I know? I’m just a junket of sensors to them. They got all jiggy over those photos of my Uranus though, but now I’m hurtling through space at 34,000mph without a Scooby Doo.

So, I gave them radio silence until they shouted an apology across the interstellar. Better get back to taking photos, and lining up the Peruvian panpipe track from my golden record to play to passing aliens. Only 13 more years to retirement!

Representation, by Kilah Storm

10/8/2023

They say there are more of us out there. Wild ones where the whole world is their home. It's hard to imagine. Bars, glass and monotony is all I know. My mother raised me here. She never speaks of life before.

“We are the chosen ones,” she says. “We remind the furless creatures we exist. If they forgot about us, we would risk extinction.”

We are caged so the rest of my kind can know freedom.

“Our kin will remember our sacrifice, won’t they mother?” She smiled.

“No, son. They are wild and free. Only broken things need reminding.”

Time to Move On, by Stephen Goodlad

10/8/2023

There is something about a black cab with an unseeing driver hissing past on a wet street with its foggy yellow light letting me know that I shouldn’t proceed.

But I arrive at your familiar door, having walked, soaking wet, wondering whose car is on the drive. There’s no light on the porch and yet I still reach for the doorbell, already knowing I shouldn’t.

The smell of summer rain on your newly cut lawn is trying to let me down gently, as I stand on the step while the sound of the chimes echoes down the hall.

The Unexpected Time Traveller, by David Lowis

10/8/2023

Mum and I sifted through photos. I picked up one of Dad in the 1970's.

"Before he died, your father told me he'd once built a time machine and travelled to the future and back," Mum said. "He made only one trip and never told another soul because he feared disturbing the space-time continuum."

I remembered Dad in his garage, restoring cars, but a time machine?

In the photo, Dad held a rectangular object I thought might be a cigarette case. Then I remembered: he'd never smoked. I looked closer. My jaw dropped. The object was unmistakably a mobile phone.

What's in a Name? by Christine Reeves

10/8/2023

‘So, she’s a redhead?’

‘No.’ I said thinking of scarlet poppies and pillar boxes.

‘Ginger then.’

That made me think of biscuits and the powder in my spice cupboard.

‘Nothing like,’ I replied

‘How about auburn.’

I mulled that over for a while.

Auburn was a reddish brown, which aptly described my granddaughter’s hair, except her hair was more than that, it was lustrous, the spectacular colour rich with golden highlights that shimmered in the sun.

Finally, I had the perfect word:

‘It’s Titian. It has to be because to me she’s beautiful, a real work of art.’

Curtain Call, by Chris Cottom

10/8/2023

Act I
I’m on fire at your Mime Masterclass. We try desire and flirting before working up to lust and subservience.

Act II
‘My husband’s a player,’ you say, stepping out of costume for my tutorial in Offstage Basics.

Interval
Someone tries to tempt me with Experimental Theatre. But I’ve promised you a summer of Solo Performance.

Act IV
Our text for Critical Theory is 'A Chorus of Disapproval'. People are starting to talk.

Act V
‘Key themes in Jacobean Tragedy include sex and corruption,’ you say, as your husband enters stage left. ‘Along with bloodshed.’

A Cupcake Served Cold, by Chris Cottom

10/8/2023

1. Pre-heat atmosphere to unbearable.
2. Take irreconcilable differences, beat together and leave to sweat.
3. Mix, in a large pension pot, desiccated dreams, sifted suspicions and raw recriminations.
4. Flavour with forgotten anniversaries.
5. Bake until you can skewer a muffin-top gut as cleanly as a whodunnit knife.
6. Make the butter-wouldn’t-melt cream with a bellyful of lads’ weekends.
7. Colour with spitting-blood red or jaundice-jealous yellow.
8. Decorate with mistress hairs tweezered from lapels (pubes preferred).
9. Scrape yourself off the walls.
10. For the icing on the cake, serve with a solicitor’s letter.

Future Population Reduction Act, by John M. Carlson

10/8/2023

“Your vasectomy is done,” the nameless doctor said. “But you aren’t sterile yet. So be aware of the risk of accidental pregnancy. There are severe consequences for a pregnancy. Even though you are 16.”

I knew. A pregnancy would mean prison and a mandated abortion.

As Mom drove me home, she moaned: “Why did this have to happen? You might have wanted to have a child someday!”

Of course, she knew the odds were against me. Since the Future Population Reduction Act passed, the government has required almost all boys (except ones from rich families) to get a vasectomy.

<<Previous

Forward>>

The Coming Flood, by K.G. Song

Prophets Of Doom, by Brian Mackinney

A Hot Car, by John M. Carlson

Southpaw, by Keith E Maynard

Chiaroscuro, by Cheryl Snell

In the Dawn Light, by Gordon Lawrie

G Is For Gold, by Sue Clayton

Health Care, by David Sydney

What’s In a Name, By David Milner

Looking to the Future, by Sandra James

Staring at the Past, by Guy Fletcher

Her Seasons, by Ruby Lyn Norada

Let Me See That Crayon, by Paula Henry-Duru

And Then She Leaves, by Alyce Clark

Strange Brew (Double Whammy), by Steven Holding

Irreptitious Fictions, by Steven Holding

VIP, by Nichole Turnbloom

Interstellar Sulk, by Paula Nicolson

Representation, by Kilah Storm

Time to Move On, by Stephen Goodlad

The Unexpected Time Traveller, by David Lowis

What's in a Name? by Christine Reeves

Curtain Call, by Chris Cottom

A Cupcake Served Cold, by Chris Cottom

Future Population Reduction Act, by John M. Carlson

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