Blog Archives

An Ongoing Process, by Russell Conover

30/9/2017

Ted had been working on his story for months. He had lots of good ideas, but had trouble finding the time to write and organize his thoughts.

He took a deep breath. “One step at a time,” he thought.

He looked around the library for inspiration. A number of interesting people passed, and his eyes wandered. “FOCUS! You’re here to work.” His mind chastised him, though he was in a productive location. Hypothetically.

“Keep the faith,” he told himself. “You’re a good writer, and the story will come. Don’t give up.” Newly motivated, Ted smiled.

He returned to his keyboard.

Worthless, by Gordon Lawrie

29/9/2017

As Cassini passed through the rings on its return to Saturn, scientists on its surface congratulated themselves on another successful mission. The spacecraft had not only discovered life on another planet, those life forms had adopted it and even sent back data about themselves.

Earth life forms were clearly limited, however, convinced that they, not the Saturnians, had contructed the craft. Communication was limited to just 140 characters, or smiling photographs of themselves called 'selfies', each transmitted via handheld transponders. Even senior leaders seemed lost without communication gadgets.

Such low life forms, it was agreed, could be dismissed as worthless.

Judgement Day, by Fliss Zakaszewska

29/9/2017

The president of The-Land-of-the-Free shook hands with the dictator of the small, turbulent Asiatic country then they sat down to discuss State Matters.

Bang! The president’s head exploded. Bang! Then the despot’s head, blood spatter everywhere.

Lars continued to look through the telescopic sights. That felt sooooooooo good. Two arse-holes in one.

He so wanted to do it again, relive the moment, but, no time. The Anglo-Germanic summit was about to start and he had to take out those two women. But temptation called.

Slowly, he turned his gun on himself and fired. Bang! The screen flickered.

‘RESTART, PLAYER ONE?’

The Calling Card, by Charles Boorman

28/9/2017

The honeymoon was a dream. The journey home a nightmare. And then this: drawers ripped out, clothes all over the floor. Camera, computer, jewellery – anything that could quickly be converted to cash – all gone.

Adding insult to injury, the villain had left behind a pile of “waste matter” in the unflushed toilet. Although the house held many happy memories for the couple, they moved out as soon as possible.

One day a policeman turned up at their new address: “Got your burglar”, he grinned. “DNA of his ‘calling card’ matched a record in our files. Shit happens, you might say!”

Gone, by Zane Castillo

27/9/2017

It was the sound of the car speeding out of the driveway that woke her. She threw the damp sheets off of her and walked past the useless fan to the window. She saw that Raheem’s rusty Honda Civic was gone.

She turned to leave the bedroom when she saw the piece of paper on her nightstand. She picked it up with an unsteady hand and read the words that Raheem wrote in his terrible handwriting. “Lina, I’m sorry. But, I gotta go back to my family.”

She sat down on the bed and let out a sigh of relief.

The Great Telescope, by Reg Wulff

26/9/2017

The great telescope was the pinnacle of ingenuity and invention. Scientists peered into the far corners of the galaxy, looking for answers to the questions of life. It was truly incredible.

But nothing was as incredible as the day life was discovered among the stars.

Older generations grappled with the idea that they were not the only beings in the universe.

Younger generations embraced the idea of other advanced civilizations existing elsewhere, even if they could only be observed for the moment.

Nibirian children created rhyming skipping songs.

“One bomb, two bombs, three bombs, four.”

“The earthlings don’t exist anymore.”

Elusive Peace, by Sankar Chatterjee

25/9/2017

After visiting historic Nazareth in Israel, peaceful Peter was driving on Highway 90 towards Jerusalem. Suddenly, he came to a fork. There stood a red warning sign, next to one arm:

“This Road Leads to Area “A” Under The Palestinian Authority. The Entrance for Israeli Citizens Is Forbidden. Dangerous to Your Lives And Is Against The Israeli Laws.”

The map indicated that road traversed through Jericho, a predominantly Arab town. Peter, a US citizen, took the road, stopped at a roadside tea-shop mingling with the locals. Later, back on highway, he philosophized “Only trust will bring peace in this land.”

For My Health, by Ileen Younan

24/9/2017

Hugs are thought of as lovely gestures. I’d say only if they’re effective. Sometimes, they’re not tight enough and the desired effect isn’t achieved.

I gave up on hugs. I thought of sleep and nourishment. Sleep is good for the body, they say. A proper snack is appropriate before dozing off, but even this didn’t work for me.

The nurse walks in, with a tray of soup before my nap and my sister has her arms wrapped around me.

The hanging scarf didn’t caress my neck tight enough and the sleeping pills didn’t get me that deep sleep I wanted.

Recollections, by Bobby Warner

23/9/2017

I recall Mother taking me to the park; we were fascinated by the swans. She went with me on my first day of school, holding my hand all the way.

She was there they day I left for boot camp; she met my train when I returned home after my Army hitch was up.

I recall her crying when I got married; I assured her she hadn't lost a son, but gained a daughter.

I recall, even though she can't. That makes me sad. I pray that nothing will ever take away these memories, as they were taken from her.

World Domination, by Russell Conover

23/9/2017

The plans of the two men to take over the world were going beautifully. They’d arranged everything, and were ready for action.

“So, you as ready as I am?” Frank questioned..
“Absolutely,” Stan replied instantly. “Let’s do it.”

They ran into the newsroom, ready to take down the anchors and announce their domination. However, they stopped short.

A mouse sat in each news chair, one with a huge head and one with a vacant look. “Your new leaders” appeared onscreen.

“Oh, what fun!” Vacant gushed. “Two new friends.”
“You’re too late,” Head told the visitors, smiling. “Bow down or else.”

* * *

P.S.: NARF! A little “Pinky and the Brain” tribute tonight ...

The Turnaround, by Charles Boorman

22/9/2017

“This will be the biggest turnaround in history”, bragged the Board. They preened themselves for a one-off quarterly profit (and gave employees a celebratory T-shirt) but blamed “factors beyond our control” for the serial losses.

As the last shimmer of profitability sank below the horizon, the crestfallen CEO resigned – image ruined. His former colleagues, however, clung fast to their lucrative jobs. Unstained by red ink, the CFO became boss!

The Board dispatched another plan. “We have to change the way we do business”, they told the beleaguered workforce: “We must take responsibility for our actions! We will hold you accountable!”

The Newspaper Article, by Guy Fletcher

22/9/2017

"You deserved that job. She only gave it to Sean 'cos she fancies him," stated her friend earnestly.

"Thanks babe, I'll see you tomorrow," replied Katrina.

She stared at her friend's empty coffee cup in tears outside the city café.

On one of the seats someone had left a newspaper. She picked it up for distraction and came across an article.

"Young Girl Loses Brave Fight Against Brain Cancer."

Katrina now shed proper tears feeling ashamed of her petty woes. She enjoyed good health and what were a few extra quid anyway? She prayed for the poor girl's grieving family.

Two Lives In 100 Words, by Gordon Lawrie

22/9/2017

He always wanted his own business, and she wanted him to try, even although her money mostly set him up. But clients messed him about, they didn't pay bills or paid them late.

So he lost his business, they lost their house, and the family was homeless for years. They never lost their pride, though, he never went bankrupt, he found work and paid all his own debts. Kept their kids at school, too.

Life had one more dirty trick for him, though: cancer took him aged just 65. She died a few years later, heart trouble. Perhaps just broken.

A Guru In Bling, by Sankar Chatterjee

21/9/2017

His followers, worshipped him as a “Godman”. They would weep and throw themselves at his feet for blessings. He preached “simple living, avoiding meat and alcohol”. But, his own life-style was anything but extravagant with sequined wardrobes, and a fleet of SUV-s, while starring in pop-videos and self-promoting “Messenger of God” films. It took the courage of two teenagers to come forward accusing him of raping them inside his holy ashram. The high court judge was convinced sending the “Godman” to jail for a term of twenty years.

Alas! The country would miss the spirituality of another “Guru in bling”!

The Francophile, by Jim Hawe

21/9/2017

Toby made no effort to hide his disdain for the shopkeeper and his little corner boutique.

“I think you will find this item particularly appealing,” the shopkeeper said, gesturing to a small purple velvet pouch secured with a glossy gold pull rope.

“What is it?” Toby asked curtly.

“A bag of manure.”

“A bag of manure!?”

“Yes—steaming,” the shopkeeper added.

“Why in God’s name would I want to purchase a bag of steaming manure?” Toby said as he turned toward the door.

“It’s from France.”

Toby stopped, closed his eyes, and sighed.

“I’ll take two.”

A Few Balls More, by Charles Boorman

18/9/2017

Pablo had hungry mouths to feed. And no job. The balls he collected at the lake and sold to budget golfers brought in desperately needed cash.

The jute sack was nearly full, but sunset was still a few minutes away and there could be some balls over there among the reeds. He waded into the murky water. The alligator rose off the bottom.

His wife Juanita wept bitterly. She and their children would go hungry. Why had her foolish husband risked everything for a few golf balls?

“Sorry”, said Pablo; “in future I won’t take the sack into the water.”

Doing The Dishes, by Don Tassone

18/9/2017

They were busy professionals. Most days, they barely saw each other. Their marriage felt the strain. Every little thing seemed to be a big deal anymore.

So they were really upset when their dishwasher broke and they learned the repair service couldn’t get to it for two weeks.

At first, they took turns doing the dishes. Then one Sunday, a rare day off for both of them, they decided he would wash and she would dry.

They began talking in a way they hadn’t in a long time. The next day, he called the repair service and canceled their order.

He Spoke No More, by Salvatore Difalco

16/9/2017

A Grimsby woman murdered her husband of ten years because, in her opinion, he had the foulest breath in the world. “Couldn’t stand it anymore,” she admitted. When asked by the trial judge why she didn’t simply leave the man, she said the idea of him abusing others with that breath made killing him the only thing to do. Absent any corroborating physical evidence, the judge sentenced her to life with the possibility of parole after 20 years. Whether or not the dead man’s breath was the foulest in the world when he was alive remains a point of conjecture.

Memory Lane, by Russell Conover

16/9/2017

Alice stroked the soft fur of her cat. “Remember, years ago, when you went missing, and I searched for you and worked for the detective agency? Good times.”

The phone rang, and Alice went to answer it. When she returned to her chair, though, her sneaky feline had vanished. Her eyes widened. “Noooo--not again!”

She tore through the house and the yard, frantic. But, she had no luck. Sighing, she prepared to call the police for help.

However, her cat was relaxing in the chair. Her jaw dropped.

“Just keeping you on your toes,” the trickster thought. “You’re welcome.”

John, by Barbara Gliddon

16/9/2017

Phillip was confused.

Was John aware that around him the anxious became more anxious, the garrulous more garrulous and the cranky crankier?

At Brian’s birthday lunch, John had insisted on a group photograph, then, pulled a duck face behind Brian’s head. Esther, the designated photographer had rolled her eyes and said “really John?”

John smirked and said ”sowwy” in a baby voice. Soon after, the party wound down

On the way home, Phillip asked Maryanne if John had always been like that.

“Dunno, he my ickle bruvva.”

Phillip tried, he did, but he couldn’t un-hear this. Disappointing.

Back to Tinder.

Where They Burn Books, by Sankar Chatterjee

15/9/2017

While attending a conference in Jerusalem, German Nobel Laureate Herbert Franz went to visit Yad Vashem, Israel’s holocaust museum. After visiting the main exhibition, he approached the Children’s Memorial, dedicated to 1.5 million murdered innocent children. He entered a dark room, lighted by the display of several black-and-white pictures of young victims. A voice was announcing continuously the names of the disappearing ones. And that’s when he saw the picture of his long-lost childhood friend, Yukil Levi, a math-whiz.

Recalling Nazis’ infamous book-burning, Prof. Franz murmured fellow countryman Heinrich Heine’s proclamation: “Where they burn books, they will also burn people.”

What Fang-Teeth Do, by Gordon Lawrie

15/9/2017

From the news on Thursday 14th September, in the wake of Hurricane Irma.

(Image: Twitter/Preetalina)

It was almost six feet long, with fanged teeth. It was found on the beach after Hurricane Irma had passed.

Locals were suspicious: where had it come from? Had it come by boat from Cuba? Had it scaled The Wall? The immigration authorities questioned it, but it remained silent, exercising its 5th Amendment rights. Outside, KKK protesters marched: "NO FANG-TEETH HERE!" But eventually the authorities decided it was native, and had just come ashore during the storm.

So what became of it? Well, in America the impossible is normal. It was elected the 46th President of the USA, of course.

Late Bloomer, by Don Tassone

14/9/2017

Three miles into his daily run, on a crisp morning in early October, he began to ask himself why he’d waited so long to begin exercising this way.

He wondered about the toll on his body from being out-of-shape so long. He wondered how many more years he might have if he’d taken better care of himself sooner.

Along the forest trail, the leaves had either changed or fallen. He spotted a patch of yellow wildflowers, which were just blooming. How grateful he felt to see such a splash of color, just now, amidst the browning autumn palette.

Closing Time, by Guy Fletcher

14/9/2017

"Hello mate, haven't seen you for a very long time. Terrible this place closing down, eh?"

"Yes, it brings back many memories," I reply.

The memories were not good. I did not even know the drunken fellow's name, we just shared the love of Stella.

The devil used to beckon me with his evil finger on grim weekday evenings to drink alone so I will not miss this place.

For me it's been closing time here for years. This pub makes van Gogh's Night Café seem like paradise: beer-stained furniture from decades gone by and the terrible smell of failure.

Rejection, by Charles Boorman

14/9/2017

Rejection by the army finally sent Mickey off the rails. But the whisky and charcoal failed to achieve the desired effect: instead of suffocating to death he woke up with a hangover and a cough.

Angry at his survival, he swore revenge against everyone who’d never taken him seriously; he’d do something so evil they’d never forget him.

When the neighbour’s kid came round, on the pretence of helping put up some shelves, Mickey pulled a knife and attacked him.

Later: the bloody crime scene. “Ain’t your lucky day” says the kid as the paramedics load Mickey into the ambulance.

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

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