Blog Archives

Father Time, by Janice Siderius

28/10/2022

Flu shots, covid jabs, two shingles inoculations, and now this. Who said these are the Golden Years? I remember my mother looking in her mirror and claiming, “It is hell getting old.” Now I understand.

Next week is my hip replacement. I am not nervous: the knee replacement last year went well. I have great doctors.

My wife is starting to call me the “bionic man”. I would prefer to be the “five-million-dollar” man. But at my age, I’ll take whatever help I can get in order to hold off Father Time as long as possible.

Short Order Cook, by Cheryl Snell

28/10/2022

She has turned on the wrong burner, and so the pot will not boil. Frustrated, she cracks the eggs and whips them. The man waiting for his breakfast looks at his fat gold watch. While the oranges are pulped, bacon fried to cinders, toast burnt black, the woman’s blue curses bend the man’s ear. He listens anxiously to her scuffle and stomp. He can’t see her face, but glimpses the set of knives he once gifted her flashing in the sun. The man looks at his watch again. He wonders if breakfast is late because the woman has killed it.

In an Instant, by Alyce Clark

28/10/2022

He feels powerless, being escorted back and forth from jail to court.

Listening to the prosecutor’s narrative about his life. Witnesses staring daggers- or looking away. Shock device clutching his ankle.

Others deciding. Never him. He’s always been in control. Dominant.

Now, he realizes, things change in an instant. Power is fluid.

A moment of anger, poor choices- and lives change forever. My life, he shudders, trying to read the jurors’ faces, failing to realize the moment he took control from others- he lost control of himself, practically giving away his power…

He’s startled as the guilty verdict is read.

Ideal Date, by Roger Kenyon

28/10/2022

A widower, urged by friends to start dating, made a list of what he sought in a mate. Dates were polite, but could not reach the high bar of his imagined other.

One coffee date, he paced the shop to find her waving hand. Oh my, he blurted, you’ve sent your mother, then apologized for being blunt. She acknowledged her photos were old, but hoped to win with charm.

You look like your pictures, she said, but I pictured you looking for a real person, not a person ideal in perfection. Ideals are just that, ideas. Not real people.

Feeling Right, by Brian Mackinney

28/10/2022

When John told Samantha his back pain story the physiotherapist told him that he needed to find his porridge and she would help him.

John was unhappy as he did not like porridge. When she saw his confusion she told him he should be like Goldilocks but he told her he didn’t fancying breaking and entering the bears’ cottage.

Samantha said that there was no universal answer to his back pain problem and that his medical condition precluded a spinal operation.

He should try pain killers, cannabis oil, homeopathy, massage, acupuncture or exercise until he found the balanced porridge cure.

Growing Old Together, by Sandra James

28/10/2022

He brought flowers. Fragrant red roses. And chocolates. She felt like a teenager again. Heart fluttering. Ah… romance!

He smiled. ‘Let’s grow old together.’

Grow old? Spend the rest of her life cringing as he slurped his soup, left the toilet seat up, espoused his extreme political views, listed daily his aches, pains and hypochonric ailments and constantly harked back, ‘In my day…’

Her rose-coloured glasses toppled from her nose. The flowers shrivelled. Chocolate melted.

And she ran. Faster than any teenager!

Tricked Into A Treat, by Sue Clayton

28/10/2022

The climb was arduous but the mesmerising smile enticed.

Ascending gossamer thin rungs I took care not to break any of the delicate strands.

“You’re almost there,” a sibilant vibration encouraged, invigorating my climb.

By the time I reached my destination I’d been tricked into a viscous embrace from which there was no freedom.

“Welcome,” a glistening maw gaped open.

Except for my head and hands, the remainder of my torso was wrapped in a delicate cocoon of sticky, silk fibre.

Dripping drool, in anticipation of a sweet treat, the spider engulfed its Halloween candy.

Slaying the Vampire, by Gordon Lawrie

28/10/2022

Singing, by Jennifer Duncan

28/10/2022

The cancer treatments had left Maureen weak and shaky. When she stood to sing with the congregation, her voice cracked and squeaked; she almost stopped singing. But then, she heard George's melodious voice resonating from the back of the church. She focused on the beautiful sound and felt herself relaxing. Her voice smoothed out and her heart responded to the wonderful words of hope that were swirling around her in musical harmony. George had no idea how his singing was affecting her.

She felt her strength returning, helped by George, the recovering alcoholic, the ex-wife abuser, the soul-restoring singer.

The Caterpillar and the Zebra, by Allison Symes

28/10/2022

‘Move, everybody! This Ark must be on schedule.’

The caterpillar sighed. It would be a collie bossing the animals.

‘Like a lift, mate?’

The caterpillar looked up to see a smiling black and white animal. ‘You are?’

‘A zebra. You’re a pretty caterpillar. What kind?’

‘A cinnabar - my yellow and black stripes tell predators I’m not nice to eat.’

‘If only my stripes would do that for lions! Come up. Let’s get in the Ark. There’s lots of rain coming.’

‘Thanks. What do you eat?’

‘Not caterpillars! Strictly on the grass me.’

The caterpillar smiled. ‘You and me both!’

Laughter Lines, by Joanne Bowers

28/10/2022

Deciding that laughter was the best medicine, the student left her pharmaceutical studies to pursue a career as a comedienne instead. However, after dying on stage night after night, she sadly reconsidered things again. Then came her exciting idea. She’d next spend hours researching online and being top secretly busy in her lab, slash parents’ shed. As the weeks went by, there was much speculation about her new interest amongst family and friends, not to mention growing quips and titters. Unbeknownst to the unwitting guinea pigs though, this only encouraged her more: her scents of humour appeared to be working.

Hail Damage, by Barry O'Farrell

28/10/2022

The tinkling of glass shards hitting the road. A half metre pipe will do that to car headlights and taillights.

Windscreen two solid whacks; pulverised without breaking. Both driver side windows shattered inwards.

The end of the pipe tattoos its own original hail damage pattern along the roof. Hood too.

Bent arms of the windscreen wipers adds an artistic flourish.

The thief emerges from our family shop clutching $810.00 cash.

A look of horror when he sees his car ‘modified’ by my brave daughter.

“I was trying to make the car easy for you to identify,” she proudly tells police.

Shoot, by Matt Larsen

28/10/2022

“Lieutenant,” Captain Meers said, as arrows rained around them. “Despite the plan, the rebels are alive and un-starved.”

“Miwok,” Lieutenant Connors said, his foot pinned by a shaft.

“I daresay you’re not going anywhere, Connors.”

“No, sir, the California natives who ground acorns for mush and bread. Help, sir?”

The captain pulled. “Weren’t they poisoned by tannins?”

“No!” Connor’s face paled as the arrow sprang free, blood gushing. “They rinsed the flour until the bitterness was gone.”

“Oh!” said the Captain, his penultimate word. At that moment, an arrow struck his chest, death and heartbreak invading his upper atria.

“Nuts.”

An Affectionate Farewell, by Tony Covatta

28/10/2022

Driving North with my wife. “Have you heard from Cousin Cynthia, and Bob?”
“No. Bob’s Parkinson’s can’t be good.”
We arrive, settle in. Next morning at the grocery I see--
“Cynthia?” Hesitation. “Cynthia?” It’s she:
“Bob died yesterday.”
“I’m so sorry.” Blonde daughter Anne appears. “So sorry.” And brunette daughter Caroline. “Sorry.”
Can’t I say something real to these desolate women, tears welling in their eyes?
Then I see the Bob of years ago. A wedding. Elegant attire, charming manners, he flatters each woman of our four with a graceful dance, one after another.
“Ladies, Bob was a lovely man.”

Music of Soul, by Padmini Krishnan

28/10/2022

He often pointed to his heart and said that she was there, not that she saw. Now her symbolic residence was ruptured with bullets, not that she heard. She wondered about him. Why did he not come to see her in her sanctuary where everyone had their own world? You can explain about the war, not that she would understand. Hers was a world that did not realize differences. Her race was that of kindness. Her countrymen were those with the voice of compassion. She hoped he would come back to her one day with his gruff music of soul.

The Butte, by Sarah May

28/10/2022

He had the arrogance of Pluto. Not Mars or Venus, just a dwarf planet strumming an icy belt along the edge of the galaxy’s skirt. He scampered up the chiseled butte and atop the plateau he screamed “IT’S NOT MY FAULT!” But it was. They made her together but he had pushed and pleaded and now she was there in the vault of my body. He threw a rock and the laws of physics brought it down to the earth. The laws in the desert remained clear but the laws in Arizona were not and they careened toward an uncertain parenthood.

Hallowed Ground, by Doug Bartlett

28/10/2022

I was born and raised in a small town in Oregon. I thought I’d never leave but to my surprise I certainly did. I’m currently far from there in this beautiful and peaceful environment with the exception of the occasional gunfire.

This land was given to me and several others for our efforts. I remember when I first arrived here. The old man who lived down the street in a big white house atop a hill came and gave my parents a flag.

And here I reside, surrounded by thousands of my peers, heroes like myself, in Arlington.

Just a Song at Twilight, Halloween Eve, by Jenna Hanan Moore

28/10/2022

I hear my love but once a day, at twilight. It’s then that his aria rises from the wood behind my house, in all its clear, baritone glory.

“What the hell is that?” my friend Susanna asks. She spent the afternoon at my house helping me paint my shop’s float for the Halloween parade. I should’ve ushered her out earlier, but I so rarely have company.

Should I tell her it’s only Byron, or will she think me mad?

Then I notice something odd. Why is he singing the Addams Family theme song? I run to the wood to ask.

Keeping Mum, by Jacqui Wiley

28/10/2022

Tim’s old Dad took out the worn page from his shirt pocket and read it yet again as if he was at war with himself. Tim didn’t interfere, thinking it was a prayer, isn’t that what old people did when they knew they were getting near the end, look for comfort in some mantra.
The end came soon, Tim took the page to join his dad in the coffin, he would say the prayer for him one last time. One line of his mum’s handwriting jumped from the faded page, ‘Please, don’t tell Tim you are not his real Dad.’

As I Wish Upon A Star, by J. Iner Souster

28/10/2022

Unthinkable. These words come to me when I think about the mysterious cylinder recovered recently. A Victorian-era telescope concealed as art for decades.
The plaque reads, "Oct. 31, 2022," and coordinates.
People thought the date was wrong for years until mechanics adjusted the telescope's trajectory last week. Through the lens, I spotted a rouge planet on a collision path with Earth.
Burdened with knowledge of inevitable destruction, all I can do is wait.
At night, I dream of death in the form of a massive black planet, cracked and covered in veins of red-hot lava, hurtling its way through space.

Apple Pie Surprise, by Peter A. Witt

28/10/2022

It was Sunday morning when Sheila knocked on my door at 7 a.m., handing my sleepy hands a still warm Dutch apple pie. She noticed I looked perplexed, a usual condition, and said, did you expect cherry. In truth I expected neither since I’d only met Susan the night before as we sat on barstools at the No Name Bar, each trying to figure out if bedding was in our future. Her eyes and my demeanor should have signaled I didn’t expect the aroma of apples at near dawn. But still pie-eyed I let her in. Cherry pie be damned.

Without Warning, by Iris Taylor

28/10/2022

The old oak suffered the first nail, and then the second of the crude sign hammered onto its south face.

Seasons came and went. Rains and sunlight nurtured. The hungry oak gnawed at the sign. At first, the tip of the ‘No’ vanished beneath the scaly bark. Then the bottom of the ‘Trespassing.’

Time passed. The tree ate. By the twentieth spring, the sign was swallowed whole. Veiled by the skin of the sentinel on the edge of a forbidden land. A new bulbous accent for an already
peculiar face.

And a warning lost to those who wandered too close.

The Mother of Doraleen Grey, by Mimi Grouse

28/10/2022

The pain tore into Doraleen's body so she could barely stop herself from crying out. She must have made some noise, however, because suddenly the nurse was beside her, injecting morphine into her vein.
'It won't be long now. Is there anyone you want us to tell?'
Doraleen pointed to her purse. 'Yes. Tell my mother her luck's run out at last,' she whispered as the nurse opened it to see the recently taken photo there.
'Wow! This is your mother? She looks half your age,' she gasped then, realising what she had said, covered her mouth in horror.

Interruptions, by Don Tassone

28/10/2022

He went into his home office, closed the door and sat down to finish an important report.

His phone rang. It was his son’s school, calling to tell him the boy was sick and ask him to pick him up.

No sooner had he sat back down at his desk when saw a deliveryman carrying a package to his door. He’d ordered a gift for his wife’s birthday.

He had just sat down again when his dog started barking. He looked out and saw deer in his backyard. The sun illuminated a rainbow of fall foliage. He hadn’t noticed before.

Femme Fatale, by Jenny Logan

28/10/2022

My assignment is to make people feel relaxed, comfortable. They don’t realise I am trained. I have an agenda. They see the pretty features and trust me.

I trawl pubs and clubs with outdoor space—easier now since COVID. The proprietors discourage me, “Don’t frighten the horses,” they think. They know what I’m here for but they can’t stop me.

Here’s one now. He strokes my face and looks into my eyes. I signal to my partner.

“Excuse me, mate, my dog has indicated you for possession of drugs. Would you empty your pockets, please?”

I’ll get my treat later.

<<Previous

"Classic"
100-Word
Stories

Friday Flash Fiction
Rules

Kinda obvious, really...

Fiction only
Stories of 90-100 words only
Don't be nasty or cheat
Include your name and a story title

EDITOR'S CHOICE
Each week, our editor selects a story or (occasionally) a poem as 'Editor's Choice'.

It's a personal favourite, no more. Do you agree?

Please feel free to comment (nicely!) on any stories – writers appreciate it.

Just at the moment, though, the comments are switched off for the Christmas Contest.
(It wouldn't be fair.)

Naturally, we reserve the reserve the right to remove comments we feel are inappropriate, or where there's a possibility they may come from a source associated with online spam or abuse. If you have one, please switch off your VPN and don't post from a public server.

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 larger number of stories (more than 25) are due to be published on the same day, we publish the later ones EARLIER around 4.00 am. On the rare occasions where there are more than 50 stories, we'll post an even earlier set, probably around 2.00 am UK time.

We have a FACEBOOK PAGE where regular contributors can share ideas and discuss stories. Why not join in?

We occasionally send out little newsletters running competitions – and subscribers are also our voting panel. If you'd like to join us, please click the Subscribe to newsletter button below.

Subscribe to Newsletter

No spam, we promise!

"Classic"100-WordStories﻿

Archives

"Classic"
100-Word
Stories