Blog Archives

Trash, by Candace Arthuria Williams

25/9/2020

George was sick of Amy’s nagging. For a month, she had been after him to clean out the basement—even withheld their weekly rendezvous. “I am fed up with this junk! Why don’t you throw it away? You’re using up perfectly good living space. I WANT MY BASEMENT BACK!”

Grudgingly, George placed his precious possessions out front for pick up the next day. It would cost more to have it hauled than it was worth.

Around 7:00 p.m., Amy was screeching again. “George, there's a homeless man on our property! Hurry up! Call the police! Officer, he's stealing our things!”

Paolo's Art, By Mark Tulin

25/9/2020

Paolo wanted to paint like Marc Chagall. But the more he tried, the more his art resembled Edvard Munch.

It terrified Paolo as well as his mother, who wondered why such a good son would paint such frightening work.

“What did you do to that canvas?” the mother asked in horror.

Paolo told his mother that art could not be explained in words. It was a feeling, an intuition, a conception undefinable.

“That painting looks like a man who is insane,” said his mother.

Paolo was too afraid to tell his mother that It was a self-portrait.

End of September, by Yola M. Caecenary

25/9/2020

I got visited by two of me from the past and the future.

"Why are you so troubled?" asked my future.

"Look at this present world. Look at the current me. Shouldn't I be worried?"

"No, you shouldn't," said my past.

I looked at her with a questioning look. I reckoned how many regrets and worries I had to bear in the past.

Able to read my mind, she smiled and said, "Yes, look at you now. You're a survivor. You passed your past gracefully."

"That is a reminder for you not to worry about the future, your future, me."

Third Class, by Sue Clayton

25/9/2020

With an £8 one-way ticket clutched in my hand I long for the voyage to begin. Travelling steerage class means sharing a cabin with three other girls, but they’ll be company.

Excitement simmers as we board two tenders, third-class passengers mostly on the PS Ireland, to be ferried across to the ship moored in the distance, funnels belching smoke.

As we pull away from Queenstown’s quay I can’t believe my luck.

It’s the 11th of April, 1912 and 123 of us will soon steam away from Ireland bound for New York…on the final leg of the R.M.S. Titanic.

Pre-Game Storm, by Russell Conover

25/9/2020

James, age fifteen, sighed as he listened to the rain pounding his window. At this rate, his baseball game tomorrow was sure to be cancelled. It was the biggest game of the season, too. Why was the timing for bad weather always so lousy?

However, from the comfort of his home, the rain sounded and looked refreshing and rejuvenating. James could imagine the crisp air and the field’s refreshed grass. As long as he wasn't IN the storm, the rain just might be a gift in disguise.

Big things were coming in the game. James could feel it. Play ball.

Love is Murder by Sandra James

25/9/2020

“Frank, are you sure you did right marrying Crystal? She’s been married three times before to rich blokes who died in some strange circumstances.”

“I know it sounds bad, mate, but she’s just had bad luck. Anyway, I’m not rich, or very smart, but it was love at first sight for both of us. And she gave me my own card for her bank account. “

“I hope you’re right, Frank.”

“‘Course I am. Why she even got an insurance policy for me. Five million. She reckons I’m worth that much! Yeah, it’s true love.”

“Been nice knowin’ ya, Frank!”

Why? by James A. Tweedie

25/9/2020

I turned to my two-year old son.

“Teddy, it’s time for bed.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s 7:30.”

“Why?”

“Because . . . because I’ll read you a story.”

“Why?”

“Because you like stories. Now, do you want me to choose one or would you like to choose?”

“Why?”

“Because I’m trying to be nice,” I said, with a hint of impatience in my voice.

“Why?”

“Because I’m your father,” I said as I grabbed his hand and began pulling him up the stairs.”

“Why?”

I stopped and glared.

“Why not?” I demanded.

Teddy paused.

“Okay,” he said.

And off we went.

You Don't Question a Hero, by Derek McMillan

25/9/2020

Terry “call me Tes” Makepiece was a hero. During the time I was shielded against Covid he did shopping and took the dog for long walks. The prices in the shops were shocking, he said. When I could get out and about again I found the prices weren't so bad. Perhaps they'd gone down. When I took the dog for a walk, Nancy took me straight to the Rose and Crown.

The barmaid greeted her, “Hello Nance, I see you brought the old skinflint with you this time.”

I had my doubts about Tes but you don't question a hero.

A Life, by Tim Neill

25/9/2020

Sirens wail in a nearby street as a running man stumbles and collapses in the gutter. A woman’s scream splits the damp night air and a small crowd gathers.

A young tourist pushes through, kneels over the lifeless body, lips clamped to the stranger’s foul lips. Two heavy breaths and he’s pumping the huge chest with shocking violence.

‘He coughed!’ someone cries. An ambulance arrives and police in force, the street dancing in blue disco light.

There’s praise from a Sergeant. ‘Nice work, son’ and moving closer, ‘Shame you weren’t here sooner, might have saved the woman he just stabbed.’

Hephzibah, by Barry O'Farrell

25/9/2020

Hephzibah is not a friendly cat. She can’t be picked up.

Should anyone dare pick her up expect howls of protest, snarling, spitting and clawing the air as if possessed.

Returned to the floor she runs to one of her safe spots where she sits glowering.

Hephzibah will allow Beth to stroke her but only occasionally.

Suddenly, quietly, affectionate behaviour!

With a paw on each side of Beth’s abdomen, Hephzibah rests her head on Beth’s belly to lie contentedly for an hour or more. This new behaviour could be the first sign.

Pregnancy test kit added to Beth’s shopping list.

A Childhood Believer, by David Walby

25/9/2020

My mom always said the Fae weren’t real, yet I never stopped believing.

On a day, three years ago, I found the toadstool ring deep within the meadow. Then I stepped into the thing and the world spun fleeting.

When I woke, the sun was high, and what did stand before me, but the Fae that didn’t exist.

I’m a curious thing to all of them, the talk of the town. It was such amazing news that became clear to them, that humans were real after all.

Funny as it be, they were just as surprised as me.

The Guardian, by Ashleigh Rockey

25/9/2020

"No Trespassing," the sign forewarned, but we didn't listen; we clambered over the fence to explore the deserted Gothic abbey. Once photos were taken, we climbed, exhilarated, into the car and slowly reversed up the narrow path.

At the road's fork, he appeared: the mere shadow of a man advancing toward us as though he’d materialized from the mist. It took a moment to recognize the rifle on his shoulder. Inside the car: terror, screaming. Thus began a panicked backtracking to the highway.

Later, after breath was caught, we debated who - or what - was really protecting those ruins.

Don’t Prejudge the Worth of Someone on Outward Appearance, by Pat St. Pierre

25/9/2020

Theresa was planting flowers in her backyard. A handsome Columbian man walked over to her and asked if she needed any help. That day her arthritis was quite painful and she was having trouble putting the tiny plants into the soil. He went on to tell her that he was a gardener in his country. She consented to let him help her and they reached an agreeable salary. The smiling man came each day and did outside chores for her. Soon they were dating. They married and she found out that he wasn’t a gardener at all but a millionaire.

The Walk, by Marjan Sierhuis

25/9/2020

Ivy feels a sense of calm as she steps onto the pathway of the glass conservatory. Surrounded by lush green vegetation, she maintains a social distance, as the trials and tribulations of the world slip by the wayside. Enjoying the silence and relishing the beauty, she inhales a deep breath, exhales and then sighs with contentment. A hint of a smile suddenly forms on her lips.

At this moment in time, this place is all she could hope for and more.

Sixty minutes later, she is ready to face the world, once again.

Silence, by Paritosh Chandra Dugar

25/9/2020

Once Silence invited Eloquence to her dwellings. In a cemetery, as Eloquence was about to speak, she was distracted by giggles from graves. They had all been best orators of their times. Then she visited a library. Before she could say anything, countless whispers stunned her. They had all been best writers of their times, telling their stories. Then, a temple where Eloquence heard the voice of the Unknown amidst exhalations and inhalations of meditating men. Eloquence felt sheepish. Then, she dropped by a house. Silence held it her unnatural abode. The mates in it were seeking a mutual divorce.

Meanwhile, in Heaven’s Café Galactic, by Sankar Chatterjee

25/9/2020

After brainstorming a new aspect on the “Big Bang” theory throughout the night, Hawking made a trip to the café. Finding Einstein drinking coffee alone, Hawking pulled his wheelchair next to him.

Hawking (yawning): Why such a long face?

Einstein: Where are all the scientists on earth? A lethal virus created a pandemic. Wild fires routinely rage sections of the globe, while devastating hurricanes destroy other parts. Why neither a warning nor a solution from the scientists?

Hawking: Scientists warn, offering solutions. But the modern Führers worldwide debunk evidences as “fake science”.

Einstein: No wonder, the arrogant dictators’ self-destructive ignorance!

He Never Saw, by Phyllis Souza

25/9/2020

Three o'clock. He sat in his pick-up.

Kids rushed out of the school—his ten-year-old daughter among them.

He rolled down the window. His daughter waved— not at him, but her mother.

"Your father is across the street," her mother said as she opened the car door. "Get in."

"Can't I say hi?"

"Do what I say. Get in the damn car!"

She climbed onto the back seat, knelt, and looked out the rear window.

Her mother glared at her father, slid behind the steering wheel. Then, she drove off.

The daughter signaled good-bye to her father. He never saw.

Six by Jim Jepps

25/9/2020

Setting down the coffees the waitress paused, hovering. Charles Six glanced up, all crystal blue eyes and perfect skin.

"Can I say what a privilege it is to meet you Mr Six. It's a thrill to... I've never met an enhanced before."

He smiled, "Well, sadly, I can't say I've never met an idiot before." She stepped back, unsure if she'd misheard.

"Can you honestly believe I'd care what you think. I was genetically engineered to be better than you in every way."

She blinked, "Not every way," she handed him the bill, "I'm kinder than you for a start."

Decisions, Decisions by Jennifer Lai

25/9/2020

Sandy crossed her hands in front of her chest and bowed her head as she deliberated her choices.

“Take your time,” her husband George said after a long silence.

“I-I-I don’t know why this is so hard for me.”

“No problem, honey.”

“There’s just so many—”

“I know, I know.” George raised his index finger up then clasped his hands in prayer to the lady in front.

Sandy exhaled audibly.

“Do you want me to choose?” George said.

“No. I got this.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yep.” Thirty seconds later, Sandy looked up at the cashier, “two scoops vanilla, please.”

Beginning of The Watch, by Michael Roberts

25/9/2020

It’s Thursday.

In four days my wife goes back to work.

She’s been off for almost ten months.

Maternity leave.

We, meaning her mostly, were planning on taking the whole twelve months her company was offering.

Then they announced restructuring.

My wife doesn’t want to be still at home when they get around to it.

Easy to be forgotten in the shuffle, she says.

I’m on seasonal layoff so it’s not exactly a bad idea.

I’ll just tell them I’m not coming back.

Maybe finally write that novel in between diaper changes and bottles of formula.

I’m happy.

Really.

Two Tickets, by Maria Tonu

25/9/2020

The son was waiting for her in the car. She stopped in front of the mirror, admired herself, then turned as if someone was beside her. Arranged his bow tie, took his hand and they got in the car. Both in the back seat. All the way she sat on his shoulder. When they entered the concert hall and sat down, she smiled at the empty chair and said, "I hope you like it!"

The son told his wife, "My mother behaved strangely today.”

"Who else went with her?"

"Nobody."

"Uncanny, she asked me to buy two tickets."

A Smile, a Cost of Change, by Patrice Assiongbon Sowanou

25/9/2020

I have been waiting in the hall for many hours because the immigration took long to process my transit visa.

Finally, the time has come to depart and look up to future. I came to the final desk, signed off the articles and ready to take the steps down.

I turned my head and there she was, the receptionist. I could see her, removing her mask and smiling. It was the first smiling face I have ever seen since the beginning of 2020.

In the next moment, a voice retorted harshly, Melody N, you have just broken the rules. MASK ON…

Burned, by Gay Degani

25/9/2020

Maybe she’s blonde. Maybe she’s funny. Maybe she fits against his body like the perfect puzzle piece. Forget him. Throw away the carnations crushed between the pages of the dictionary. Rush to the bookshelf and grab your scrapbook, rip out the pages, your yearbook, too. Sweep photos off the desk, snatch them from their frames, never mind the cuts, the beads of blood. Rush to the fireplace, throw everything in, light a match. Watch the flames leap and crackle. Your face burns as you watch the paper coil, each piece twisting into black, into floating ash, disappearing up the chimney.

Whodunnit, by Hervé Suys

25/9/2020

Elementary knowledge of physics and chemistry saved the life of Lord Sherlock.

This was a case of national security, something to do with secrecy about canons.

All the evidence had shown that state secrets were sold to a foreign power.

Judge Lestrade certainly would have found him guilty and would have sentenced him to the firing squad if it hadn’t been for the world famous detective Moriarty and his brilliant assistant Mrs Hudson. They countered all the incriminating material which now acquited the accused and finally they revealed what no one could have ever suspected: Watson, the butler, did it.

Back to Basics, by Aisha Wiley

25/9/2020

How much time and money does it take to make something right? I bought an old house a year ago. Every fixture was broken. It’s been a revolving door of contractors saying, “Huh, I’ve never seen that before, lady.” Or just, “Wow.”

At first, I felt sorry for the home, suffering under decades of clownish tenants making half-hearted repairs. Then I was furious: if there was a way to do something wrong, it’d been done. Now I had to pay the price.

The same goes for national houses with clownish tenants. It’ll take time and tears to make things right.

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"Classic"
100-Word
Stories

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.
Recently, we've welcomed a lot of newcomers and found that even two batches doesn't cover them all. Wherever that happens, we'll simply be publishing 'as and when' during the course of the day.

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