Blog Archives

The Writing Puzzle, by Russell Conover

30/9/2016

Jim was beyond frustrated with his story. He had lots of great ideas for scenes, but just couldn’t sequence them correctly and make them fit together.

Then he had an idea. He printed the scene ideas onto slips of paper, and taped them to puzzle pieces. By rearranging the pieces and linking some together, he felt more confident in his plot.

Suddenly, Jim’s nose tingled, and he sneezed monstrously. Wiping his face, he gasped to see that the puzzle had scattered onto the floor, with no rhyme or reason.

“NOOOO!” he wailed, eyeing the chaos. “Back to the drawing board.”

We've Had Better Days..., by Amy Friedman

30/9/2016

I am just exhausted.
That’s not news. You’re always exhausted.
Oh, give me a break. I woke up at 3:19, and couldn’t get back to sleep.
You actually looked at the time?
Sure.
No wonder you couldn’t sleep. Best thing to do is just roll back over.
Not if you have to pee.
Well, pee with your eyes shut.
You are SUCH an idiot. I don’t know why I even try talking to you.
But you are! What does that make you?
What is this? I know you are but what am I?
You said it first.
Oh, dear god…

The Picking Ground, by James Blevins

30/9/2016

Adjacent to the cemetery, blackberry blood ran down my fingers.
Bushes bred in perfect rows.
You asked me to sit next to you, so I did. I held your legs over my lap, traced lines with my fingers down the undersides of your thighs—down to your bare feet.
And blue could be black if I wanted it to be.
And smoke could be somewhere if I concentrated.
You smelled of blackberries and thunderstorms.
I pulled you close to me on the bed, held you against my chest, until we were the only sound in the room.
Then, we ate.

Race Day, by Chris Cole

30/9/2016

"Why can't he ever be on time?", Katie glared at her mother.

"I'm going with genetics, and I'm blaming your father. Sorry."

"Figures.", she rolled her eyes while idly swinging last year's medal from its ribbon.

"MIKE! Hurry up. We're ready. The taxi's going to be here any second."

"He's probably still deciding which shoes looks coolest. Idiot. Ah, taxi! Oh...nope. Wrong one.", Katie groaned and bent to tighten her own runners.

"No, here it is now. MIKE! Now!"

"He can catch up", Katie rolled herself out the door as the driver lowered the ramp.

Tom And Mary, by Gordon Lawrie

30/9/2016

Tom and Mary spent their entire marriage, all fifty-nine years of it, in competition. Mostly, they teamed up, thus avoiding public marital strife and maintaining a semblance of decorum. Friends knew the signs, though. A misdirected volley on the tennis court, or a missed short putt on the golf green, meant Tom would be sleeping on the sofa that night.

Later, their interests turned to bridge, where Mary would frequently be heard screeching ‘Why did you do that, Tom?’ He died suddenly at the table; she carried on playing the hand, Tom was dummy and they made a small slam.

Last Words, by Bobby Warner

28/9/2016

Marvin stopped the car at the pull over. “Let’s rest for a few minutes and look out at the ocean.”

Wanda, who had been dozing, said, “What nonsense is this? But everything you do is nonsense. I’m married 51 years to a man who is Nonsense personified!”

They got out of the car and walked to the rail, she talking incessantly, berating him unmercifully. When he tried to speak, she silenced him with a sharp word.

Marvin took his wife by the shoulders, said, “Goodbye, Wanda,” then pushed her over the rail.

He had finally gotten in the last words.

Supermarket Standoff, by Johann Lux

28/9/2016

I’m standing in the supermarket’s 12 items or less checkout line, trying not to stare at the young lady in front of me with her cart full of items. She is attractive, therefore I don’t complain.
Instead of placing groceries on the conveyor, she pulls a pistol from her purse and shouts, ”Gimmie money”!
The cashier and everyone else but the attractive robber and I run away screaming.
“That’s an air soft pistol.” I warn,” Put it down before you get shot”.
"Give me your money!”she screams.
“No, “I say.
“I’ll shoot you!”she threatens.
“My gun is real,” I smile.

Slumming, by Martin Reed

27/9/2016

While working as a stockbroker in the 1980s, I developed a fascination for the dilapidated hovels about town. I found that many of those listed for rent were unlocked, and I took to sleeping in them, often securing myself in a closet. After one such cramped and chilly night, I became aware of a prospective renter in the room . . . a young woman, I surmised. It occurred to me that I couldn't be connected to this place at this time, and when she opened the closet door . . . Whereas, not five hours later, I was entertaining clients at the Turks and Bedouins . . .

Another Perfect Game, by Johann Lux

24/9/2016

I was only 6 weeks old when Gray aliens abducted me.
I traveled 18 years in a spacecraft to the Gray’s home planet, where I was told my abduction was a mistake. The grays should have abducted the kid next door to my parent’s home instead of me.
I spent another 18 years traveling back to Earth, only this time I was given a robotic companion; a super computer that is the spitting image of a bowling ball.
My parents, refusing to believe me being their son, rejected me.
Thanks to my computer, I became a wealthy, world champion bowler.

Challenging Assignment, by Russell Conover

24/9/2016

The autumn leaves were falling, brilliant in their reds, oranges, and yellows. Samantha snuck into the café and completed her assignment. Then she dragged the product back to the office. “Will this do?” she asked, out of breath.

The woman approached. “Move all those leaves out of the way.”

Sighing, Samantha did as she was told. The woman nudged the body, and the man’s eyes opened wide. He scrambled to his feet and fled. “Better check my vitals next time, sucker!”

Samantha gasped. “But how? I was sure ... ”

The woman frowned. “We are Murderesses, Incorporated, Samantha. You have failed initiation.”

Franny, by Eric Smith

24/9/2016

On his third boilermaker, James leaned against the bar facing the dance floor. The couples did the two-step as the band played Randy Travis’ “Better Class of Losers.” He felt dizzy from the hard stuff, but he recognized her—yeah, that was Franny returning by herself from the ladies room. He worked his way over so he could ask her to dance. When he reached her he started talking and she answered. But some guy stepped up saying she was with him. James got hit from behind and went down. Later someone pushed him into the blinding parking lot sunlight.

Secret, by Bojan Nenezic

23/9/2016

It was a late night, but he was still reading that heavy book. The morning came close in an attempt to stop him. But he only wanted to continue reading to the end.

The book hid one important secret from the history, and his desire was to find it.
Somewhere deep beneath the pages, sentences and words, the secret waited to be discovered.

Only a few men had found it before him, and the task was not easy at all.
When he saw the daylight through windows, it was clear that his time ran out.

The secret remained hidden.

Nobody Likes Me, by Gordon Lawrie

23/9/2016

No one likes me. That sounds sad, but I’m afraid it’s the truth, there’s no escaping it.

I try to impress people by telling them tales of adventure, but they don’t seem to be impressed. Perhaps they’ve heard it all before. Or I try to make them laugh with jokes, hit them with the best punch lines I can think of – but it’s no use, I can’t so much as raise a smile. I try horror and ghost stories, but I just get blank looks back.

No matter what I write, I can’t get anyone to click that Like button.

(Worth clicking, perhaps? Up for it?

Sir, You'll Have To Be Quiet, by Johann Lux

22/9/2016

Edith left me for a CPA named Roger Snow. She moved into Roger’s house, which was just across the street from mine and married Roger that same week.

Now, a decade later, on a red eye flight out of Newark, Edith is seated beside me.
I notice she’s doubled her weight, but retained the annoying whine in her voice, which I recollected after she whined, “It’s a small world”.

While scolding me for not wearing a tie, I remembered Edith’s middle name: Amber, and laughed out loud.

“What’s so funny?”She snapped.

“You’re Mrs. Edith Amber Snow,” I roared with laughter.

Chores To Keep Him Busy, by Eric Smith

22/9/2016

Lem labored on that damn fence for five years—it was untreated oak posts and rails. Now those were rotting. He spent his spare time replacing the wood with treated stuff—a never-ending task. The fence separated two fields so horses could graze in one until they’d chewed it down; then they’d graze in the other field while the first grew back. But Lem didn’t have horses.

The neighbor kid said he’d pay Lem sixty bucks an acre to plant crops instead, but the fence was in the way. Lem and the kid tore that baby down in an hour.

The Night I Vanished Into Thin Air, by Johann Lux

22/9/2016

I was seated at the counter in the Liberty diner. Fred occupied the swivel seat to my right. Whenever Fred is high on his pain-killing medication, he slurps his chicken noodle soup and sings at the same time. A waitress viciously scolded him for making a mess of the counter.

Suddenly, quietly, Fred, (especially high that night), became transfixed by a napkin dispenser’s reflection of a solitary noodle clinging to his beard.

Donna slid into the seat to my left. Looking unsympathetically at Fred she mumbled how unfortunately, it is we who make our own reality.

Believing Donna, I disappeared.

Ederle's Crossing, by Hannah Wilkinson

17/9/2016

August 6th, 1926
7:08 AM France

She dove into the cold water.
Swam 1 mile, then 2.
But women can’t!
Mile 6, then 7.
It’s never been done!
Mile 13, then 14.
Only men can swim that distance!
Mile 20, then 21.

August 6th, 1926
9:04 PM England

No Mercy, by Ian Fletcher

17/9/2016

The Tiger, their protector, is knocked out by the approaching T-34s. Armed only with rifles, Hans believes this will be his platoon’s last stand. The thought that his wife Hilda and their baby in Hamburg may live in a peaceful Europe one day consoles him.

As the sirens shriek a woman with an infant joins the hundreds entering the air raid shelter off the Eifestrasse. The Flying Fortresses’ bombs rain down. Hilda prays Hans is also safe at the front. Above, the asphalt melts in the 800-degree heat. The firestorm sucks the air out of the shelter. No one survives.

Life In The Fast Lane, by Russell Conover

17/9/2016

“Dude. Slow down. We’re gonna get pulled over!” Stewart gritted his teeth.
“Relax, man!” Dave assured him. “My Maserati does 185, and we’re testing that claim now.”
“What if the cops catch us?”
“As long as they don’t find the dead body in the trunk, we’re fine.”
Stewart’s eyes widened. “Wait. WHAT? OK. Drop me off. NOW.”
“C’mon, man. Don’t you want a little excitement?” Dave’s eyes gleamed.
Stewart considered his options: a boring life, with no entertainment or adventures, or high-speed fun. A no-brainer.
“Floor it, bro. You only live once. The thrill is worth the risk.”
“Right on!”

How Sweet It Is, by Roshanna Sidney Evans

16/9/2016

I loved it when they cut my skin. I loved it when the chip slid in.
I knew I’d never be the same, that’s what I wanted, to give someone else complete control, to be able to blame them when I looked in the mirror and hated what I saw.
I loved it when they sewed me up. I loved the sound of of the thread stitching me up. Cute little pat, pat, pat. Standard smile. Standard words. “Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?”
I smiled. “Easy as pie.”
“Happy?”
“Couldn’t be happier.”
I love being out of control.

Memorials, by Bobby Warner

16/9/2016

I came across a middle-aged couple kneeling and placing a wreath at the headstone of a grave in a National Military Cemetery.

The husband looked up, saw me and said, “Our son. He won the Medal of Honor for killing a dozen of the enemy who overran his post.”

“It’s good of you to honor him,” I said.

“We also pray for the enemy soldiers he had to kill,” the woman said. “They have eternal souls, too.”

Cornered, by Gordon Lawrie

16/9/2016

I really tried. I went into the police station and confessed to murdering seven protitutes. (Well, they looked like prostitutes to me: these days with their short skirts and make-up, you can’t really tell.)

But the police threw me out – threatened to charge me with wasting police time. Same thing at the GP’s surgery: nobody believed me, I got barred.

I was cornered. I’d to prove I was a killer again. That’s where you come in, I’m afraid – sorry. You’ve probably guessed what the knife’s for; I’ll make it quick.

All because no one listened. I’m so sorry for you.

Blood And Iron, by Ian Fletcher

13/9/2016

Grey dawn breaks on the banks of the Oder.

Müller and the 4th Panzer Army will defend the Fatherland to the death with blood and iron. The artillery barrage presages the Soviets’ massed crossing. He mows down scores but the rafts keep coming. The barrel of his machine gun is red hot.

An explosion.

Oblivion.

The nurse smiles kindly. An SS major consoles the wounded. A portrait of Adolf Hitler looms down from the wall. He is still a soldier, a man. He will salute his Führer, even here.

“Heil…”

He screams, seeing the stumps where his arms once were.

Punishment, by Russell Conover

13/9/2016

“Sire, before you is the culprit.”
“What is his heinous crime?”
“He stole ideas from other writers, your majesty.”
“Barbaric. Was he warned of the consequences?”
“Yes, sir. We waved the red banner repeatedly. However, his deeds continued.”
“This act requires severe punishment. And we cannot limit it to only the royals.”
“You mean ... ”
“Yes. We must open the castigation for the world to see.”
“Are you certain, my king?”
“If we only show our people, no lessons will be learned. It is for the best of the kingdom.”
“Even the accused?”
“Well, maybe we’ll just send him to Pluto ... ”

Rain, Rain Go Away, by Ann-Louise Truschel

12/9/2016

“It never rains but what it pours.”

“But this is more than a pouring rain; it’s a deluge!”

“’Tis the season.”

“What season? I don’t see how you can be so cavalier. We’re never had a downpour like this in our lives. This is a thousand year flood! How are people going to cope?” What about their houses, their
animals? Nobody has flood insurance! They’ll lose everything!”

“Flood insurance wouldn’t have done them any good. Not this time.”

“Then all we can do is pray.”

“If you’d have done that before, you wouldn’t be in this predicament.”

“Oh, God!”

“Yes?”

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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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