Blog Archives

Stylish Flat-top Cut, by Lisa Miller

30/9/2018

“Weird, the lights flickering,” Mandy tells Lynne, climbing out of the hairstylist’s chair.

“Let’s go, Mandy, somethings wrong.”

Down the escalator and through the automatic doors they went. “Follow the crowd,” Lynne yells, walking faster.

Once outside…darkness. Seemingly, a war zone with flashes of light illuminating the sky. The girl's throats and eyes burned as the ash rained down on them. They’re unaware a mountain’s erupting just sixty miles north of them.

Decades later the majestic mountain proudly sports a stylish flat-top cut. With the sun highlighting it’s silky, soft shine. Perfectly trimmed, restyled by something more powerful than ourselves.

A Gift, by Jeffrey Paolano

30/9/2018

“Miss Sade what’d you’ve wrapped in that rag?” The attendant questions the nonagenarian.

Miss Sade tightly grips the wadded, soiled bandana with palsied fingers. Miss Sade’s unfocused eyes moisten as the attendant incessantly banters while freshening the bed.

No one on staff remembers the rag’s appearance.

*

Upon first rounds, the washed, damp rag, lay folded on the bed tray. A ten dollar bill lay across it with “Kathy” scrawled in shaky script across Hamilton’s face.

*

Kathy wept seeing it, lacking explanation.

“Well, you must’a done somethin',” says the attendant preparing the corpse for removal.

“How’d she do it?”

Route 66 Killer, by David Erdey

30/9/2018

Seeking Freedom, by Russell Conover

30/9/2018

The men, women, boys, and girls looked out of their cages, terrified and sad. The monsters had taken them as prisoners with no warning, and no hopes of escape.

“What can we do?” moaned one girl.

“No clue,” a man groaned. “This is hopeless.”

All the while, their captors watched with glee. “Our plans are finally coming together,” one reveled. “But, I do feel bad for them.”

“Hey, the sign warned them,” her friend replied, rubbing his green skin.

A Moment in Time, by Sankar Chatterjee

29/9/2018

It was a gorgeous autumn-day with cotton-ball clouds freely roaming, birds chirping, leaves turning yellow/orange, when a somber crowd slowly lowered the simple wooden-coffin of Late Gerry Charnoff in his final resting place. Born to a migrant Jewish family in New York, he excelled in legal profession. But, it was his lifelong justice-for-all, humanity, and charity made him memorable to lives he touched.

Standing under a nearby tree, Dr. Dipankar Mitra, an expatriate-Indian scientist suddenly remembered his Far-East teaching:

“At birth you’re crying, the rest rejoiced; on leaving you should rejoice while others cry.”

Finally, he understood the inherent wisdom.

Spoiled Rotten, by Bobby Warner

29/9/2018

"Where is she this time?" I asked, lighting a cigarette.

"Where do you think?"

"Marley's, probably," answered my brother.

"You're probably right."

"Your turn to go."

"Oh, crap. I wanted to watch a TV program, too."

"We could flip to see who goes."

"That's okay. I don't really mind going."

"Thanks! I owe you one."

"Forget it."

"We gotta fix that door so she can't get out so easily."

"You go get her tonight. I' fix the door tomorrow."

"This is the second time this has happened this week. I think we've spoiled our cat rotten."

"I think you're right."

The Rabbit, by Charles Boorman

28/9/2018

It was an almost idyllic scene: the courtyard was bathed in warm sunshine; the branches of the gnarled willow hung over the ornamental pond.

Plump carp and sleek goldfish glided through the water in search of food or shelter, while big dragon flies hovered around like glittering miniature helicopters. The sound of children’s happy voices drifted across from the nearby school playground.

But if an animal fell into the pond, the overhanging edges allowed no escape. No kind soul had put in a helpful plank, either. Would the rabbit paddling desperately for its life let me rescue it from drowning?

One Step Too Far, by Fliss Zakaszewska

28/9/2018

Oh-shit-oh-shit-oh-shit!” Davy dashes into the local mini-mart. “D’you have any flowers, love? Forgot the wife’s anniversary!”

She looks at him oddly. “Isn’t it your anniversary too?”

“What? Oh yeah!” He grabs the least bedraggled bunch, shoves £3.00 in her hand and rushes off. “Keep the change,” he calls. “Damned, should’ve bought a card! Too late,” he adds scrambling for the bus.

“Happy anniversary, sweet-cheeks,” he gushes as he lets himself in. “What’s for tea?”

“Whatever you’re cooking. I’m out clubbing with the girls. Bye.”

And that’s when he knew he’d gone one step too far down the road to neglect.

To the Victor, by Gordon Lawrie

28/9/2018

The two armies lined up nervously in serried ranks: footsoldiers at the front ,while their generals plotted tactics safely out of harm's way.

Bands began to beat out the sound of war.

Suddenly all hell broke loose! Long-range missiles were launched to soften up opposition troops! There were screams as innocent civilian onlookers were felled by stray shells! Then it was on to close combat as the two sides duelled with flashing swords.

Then... as abruptly as it had begun, the battle ended. To the victor, the spoils. To the loser, the promise of another Ryder Cup two years later.

September 28th - Wedding Day, by Jude Hayland

28/9/2018

Broad, brazen smiles for the photographer - there you are in your borrowed bridal dress, your enormous bouquet, on a day of late September sunlight, a gift from mid-summer.

And on your arm, in a smart suit that swallowed months of clothes coupons, your groom, handsome, protective, his hand cautiously covering yours.

Your youth, the two of you, shocks. So vulnerable, so unprepared, innocence loosed on a damaged world, weeping for its sins.

But you survive: you prosper.

And it is love that reaches out from the well-thumbed photo, your legacy bestowed on the next generation.

And the next ...

An Author Disappears, by Sankar Chatterjee

27/9/2018

Author’s imaginative action-fiction displaying a jar of chili-pickle entertained global-readers immensely. Todd, an American personal-injury lawyer (lovingly, “ambulance-chaser”), however couldn’t find the customary disclaimer “Don’t try in your backyards, folks.” He immediately filed a “Willful negligence to cause public harm”-charge in US federal-court, asking millions of dollar punitive-damage.

The label also indicated its Indian-origin. Todd contacted Nigel in their London-branch to file a billion-dollar defamatory lawsuit claiming “Shame, pain, and suffering to 1.2bn Indians, worldwide”. Now, combined two cases headed to the International Court (The Hague).

Remembering “religious fatwa” on Salman Rushdie, the author disappeared, leaving Scotland Yard in dark.

Poker Face, by Marjan Sierhuis

27/9/2018

While she felt the blood drain from her face, Maggie forced herself to take a few deep breaths and count to ten. When she tried to swallow her mouth was too dry to produce any saliva.

Clenching her fists, she kept her eyes focused on her husband’s poker face as he rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet.

He returned her stare with dark, malevolent eyes and grinned.
Maggie didn't know what he found so funny but she didn't plan to find out.

As she jumped out of the airplane, she prayed that her parachute would open.

Believe, by Don Tassone

26/9/2018

“I’ve got to say that’s a pretty wild story,” he said.

“Well, it’s true,” she said.

“You’re sure?”

“What do you mean? Why would I lie about something like this?”

“I don’t know. It’s just that it happened so long ago. Memories get fuzzy.”

“There’s nothing unclear in my mind.”

“Was anybody else there when it happened?”

“No.”

“Did you tell anybody?”

“No. I felt ashamed.”

He sighed.

“You know if you talk about this, people are going to attack you.”

“I know.”

“It’s bound to get ugly.”

She closed her eyes and nodded.

“But I believe you,” he said.

Missing, by David Erdey

25/9/2018

"I saw him, I'm sure!" she yells.

Tired, he looks at her as she walks in litter, searching a seventh time around that roadsign.

"Can we go back to the car?"

"So you think I'm crazy?"

"No. Could've been a homeless who..."

"Wasn't a look alike - was him!"

She interrupts, screaming. He tries ignoring it, spit hitting his cheeks as she screams, the tantrum hell. He takes a deep breath.

"WHY would he hang around a highway! HE HATED TRAFFIC ALMOST AS MUCH AS HE HATED US," he shouts, holding her lightly.

"He's gone! Be happy," he says, squeaking.

The Big One, by Eric Smith

25/9/2018

I was ten when Mom died after several increasingly severe heart attacks. She refused to participate in her own care—chain-smoking, ignoring her diet, and continuously drinking Kahlua and coffee. The fatal attack seized her as she retrieved mail from our box. Clancy, the neighbor, found Mom lying on the shoulder of the road; the EMTs arrived an hour late. She was thirty-four and two months’ pregnant, which remains a mystery. I pictured Mom’s panic as she died alone: the lifelong wound this scene sliced in me clotted since she’s never suffered disappointment at the kind of man I became.

Carla Loved Frank, by Riham Adly

24/9/2018

"How will I live without you, Frank?" Carla planted a kiss on the spongy elastomer skin of her F-26MXI humanoid prototype.

The lab felt colder than it should. Carla shivered. She knew kinetic energy was the answer. She swiveled one merry round after another in her spinning chair. In her mind they were both rolling over in the Toyota before they hit the cement boulder.

Undecided, she turned around to stare at their shared project.

"He’ll never grow a beard, or fix the thermostat, but he'll have your heart."

Ungloved hands, now blood-stained, reached for the organ in the ice-box.

A World-Record Gets Broken, by Sankar Chatterjee

24/9/2018

From the beginning, she would feel the difference. Initially, she floated like a beautiful butterfly. Next several kilometers, she became a hummingbird speeding between flowers, extracting elixir utilizing long narrow beak.

Finally, a hungry cheetah chasing a fearful gazelle took over. She burned her running-shoes from blistering pace in final ten kilometer. In the process, Kenyan teenager Naomi Odette lowered the prevailing world-record by two minutes in London Marathon, an unthinkable achievement in track-world.

On victory-stand, she cried uncontrollably, not only from her achievement, also realizing that hunger from poverty of past few years wouldn’t play the same magic-trick again.

If At First You Don’t Succeed…, by John Cooper

24/9/2018

People shifted nervously in their seats, looking away from each other; no one wanting to catch anyone else’s eye.

All the weeks of strident language, opinions dressed as certainties, all the raised voices and the pointing fingers; and here we were yet again, trying to sort it all out.

The chair tried to bring everyone to order.

“So we seem to be at a bit of an impasse.” She said, stating the obvious. “Has anyone any ideas?”

People remained frozen in their seats, waiting for someone, anyone to speak.

“Well.” Came a small voice.

“We could all just choose again.”

Where Dust Settles, by Krystyna Fedosejevs

24/9/2018

Flat tire. Desert surroundings. Sun torments my thinking. As does his last phone call. Another request for help. I oblige knowing he won’t thank me, again. Beads of sweat string across my forehead. Why does he argue? Twilight leads the way. The road stretches farther when one walks along its shoulder. Cacti appear more
formidable up close. Their needles longer, sharper than the darning variety I use to mend his socks. A car goes by without slowing down. Dust coats my sunglasses, chokes my air. A lizard slithers, skirting my footsteps. Service station in sight. Father will need to wait.

The Garbage Bag, by Mark Tulin

24/9/2018

The homeless man who wanders the beach every morning spotted a garbage bag that was partially buried in the sand. Curious, he dug it up. Excited about the prospect of finding something valuable, he pulled out two items—a bible and a Penthouse magazine.

The homeless man thought for a while. He only had room in his backpack for one.

He believed in God but had encountered plenty of unscrupulous preachers.

Thinking that the magazine would be more useful to him on his lonely journey, he put the bible back into the sand.

Grasshopper Junction, by Leroy B. Vaughn

23/9/2018

His name was Leroy also. We were shooting pool at this little cafe/gas station in the desert.

The game wasn’t going well for the him and he said, “Let’s take a short break, I’ll be right back.”

He came back five minutes later, picked up his cue stick and said, “Okay, let’s try this again. I think my luck is about to change.”

I looked at him and then glanced at my two buddies, as if to ask
if they saw anything different.

“Didn’t you have a moustache a few minutes ago”?

“Yeah I shaved it off for good luck.”

Leave-Taking, by Steven Holding

23/9/2018

It couldn’t be denied. It had been a good life. So many seasons seen; a long and fruitful existence. Even now, slowly growing weary, each diseased limb wracked with pain, it was impossible to view age as a curse. Better to simply embrace the changes that came with it, then accept the blessing for what it was. Wisdom bequeathed by the passing of time. Beautiful beginnings, a magnificent middle and now, like all others, a time to bring things to an end. The final thought as it all came crashing down; with no-one around, would it still make a sound?

Elucidation, by Jeffrey Paolano

23/9/2018

“You realize various animals are fed to carnivores in labs everywhere,” allows Carl Vinzen, Science Chairperson of the Litwel School District.
“Rats not puppies. People like puppies. They’re cute,” retorts Joseph Protento, District Superintendent.
“Turtles naturally eat puppies or rats.”
“The turtle’s an invasive species here, it must be eliminated.”
“I can relocate it far away.”
“No, the turtle must be destroyed.”
“You realize how backward educated people consider our community?”
“Maybe, but we look avenging, in the eyes of the God-fearing. That’s who votes for this Board.”
“Don’t we have an obligation to educate?”
“Not if we’re voted out.”

The Creep Plumber, by David Erdey

22/9/2018

I started peeking at women taking showers after showering became something I did alone. When she left me, I talked to women but they never talked back. At job were single female clients. Leaking sinks, erupting toilets. It happened at my lowest: I installed spycams. I watched everyday, as shameful as lustful. Boyfriends soon came into the picture but I still couldn't stop myself from watching. I observed the relationships flourish and on days with strong self-hatred, remembered how I before laughed when people like me were in the news, belly hurting, pointing my finger:

"Look baby, what a creep!"

The Perfect Aliens, by Russell Conover

22/9/2018

Jacob was struggling to make the aliens in his story perfect. He pictured the most terrifying invaders he could imagine: green with numerous eyes, sharp teeth, and no mercy on Earthlings.

“Something’s still missing,” he groaned. “Too generic.”

“Meow!”

Jacob looked up, and saw his cat Fluffy entering. Fluffy carried the lifeless body of a mouse, proud of her conquest.

“Bad Fluffy!” The cat skedaddled.

A light bulb went off in Jacob’s mind. He resumed writing. “The invader was terrifying enough. But then it grew whiskers and fangs, and stabbed its prey lifeless, with an innocent ‘Meow’.”

He grinned. “Perfect.”

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

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