Blog Archives

Andy, by Bobby Warner

29/11/2015

Andy had a pet turkey named Sam. Andy's father, who had been out of work for a month or more, told Andy: "Son, we've little food left, and nothing for Thanksgiving dinner. Sam will have to be our Thanksgiving meal."

Grief stricken, Andy fried to find a way to save Sam. Finally he came up with an idea.

Andy took Sam and a sharpened hatchet to his dad and said, "Here is Sam, Dad. If you were Jesus, would you kill him?"

Deeply shamed, Andy's dad pawned his wristwatch and bought a canned ham for their Thanksgiving dinner meal.

The Cloud Man, by Bobby Warner

29/11/2015

The world's worst serial killer was to be executed in a spectacular way. He was launched in a capsule high into orbit and was to be destroyed by a tactical nuclear weapon detonation. The media dubbed him "Cloud Man."

Miraculously, this arch fiend managed to free himself stop the detonation, and deflect the orbit of the vessel into retrograde mode.

It happened all too quickly for any sort of countermeasures. The execution capsule, now warhead, descended swiftly and hurtled toward one of the world's most populated areas.

The Cloud Man managed to claim many more victims in his own demise.

Victims, by Russell Conover

29/11/2015

The cops were combing the scene, about which they'd received some suspicious leads. Individuals lay still all over the room, showing no signs of life. However, there was no sign of violence or otherwise foul behavior.

“So, what exactly happened here?” a gruff-voiced cop asked a witness.

“Nothing out of the ordinary, actually,” the witness replied in a calm voice. “Everyone had gathered here, for a traditional reunion, when all of a sudden, they all passed out and didn't move.”

“And how, exactly, is that ordinary?” the cop asked, skeptical.

“Victims of the Thanksgiving post-food coma.”

The Best-Laid Plans, by Jane Reid

29/11/2015

Danny was determined to rid Pluto of That Cat. Their immigration permit forbade no pets. The other colonists didn’t seem to care about what they saw as a minor transgression and a comfort to Alice. But Danny, who had no use for shades of gray, viewed the cat’s presence as a big black mark on the colony.

So finding online instructions, Danny carefully built a trap and baited it with a choice piece of meat.

When the trap was sprung, Danny was appalled to find he had caught a rat.

“Danny Boy, you really should reconsider the cat,” said Alice.

Star Wars? by Joy Essien

27/11/2015

Dan could not believe his eyes. “Am I here to watch Star Wars or what?” Blinking, he looked at the screen again. The advert showed people reciting lines of the Lord’s Prayer. Dan swivelled round; scanning other patrons for emotion but the darkness obscured their faces.

A mind war began within Dan. Images of his simple, childhood faith filled his mind. Changing, the images revealed the total lack of piety in his adult life. The contrast was too much.
"I must write a protest letter or I’ll sue them. My sensibilities have been hurt," Dan thought, as he walked out.

The Origins, by Emma Baird

27/11/2015

Checking the door was firmly closed, Ardell’s Head of Marketing opened her desk drawer.

She poured herself a hefty slug of bourbon. It had been a stressful few months. Sales at Ardells had suffered and its management team twitched nervously.

“What can we do?” they railed. They lowered prices, they extended opening hours and they employed the pushiest salespeople, incentivising them with impossible targets.

Nothing had worked – and now it was Thanksgiving. She hadn’t even made it home to her family.

Oh well, she might as well put on a sale tomorrow. Call it something.

Black Friday maybe?

Spektrum Conference Centre, Oslo: November 2015, by Gordon Lawrie

27/11/2015

Norwegian Prime Minister Solberg arrives, exchanges pleasantries with the waiting press, then disappears into a room offstage. She’s followed by, in turn, Obama, Cameron, Hollande, Putin, even Pope Francis. Each expresses hopes for peace before vanishing.

Suddenly, the press room gasps. It’s Assad. He, too, speaks to the press, then disappears. Even the leaders of Daesh and the Syrian rebels show up.

Minutes later, Solberg reappears to announce that peace has been agreed.

Sadly, it transpires that all the politicians were merely the same thirteen-year-old boy performing astonishing impersonations. Pity. He made a lot more sense than the real things.

Perception, by Wiebo Grobler

26/11/2015

Agony. Excruciating, burning torture. Alive and moving, running down my throat like lava, consuming my insides, pooling in my chest cavity.
Voices, indeterminable, shouting, whispering. Screams. Blessed darkness, peace.
Light and pain. Shifting focus. Greens, brown. A lawn and trees.
Reflected in the window, my eyes stare out from an impassive face.
Movement, dresses, ethereal, white. A nightmare?
“How long’s he been here?”
“A few days. He had a bad motorbike accident. There’s very little brain function.”
My screams drown out the rest of their conversation.
“He looks so peaceful.” The nurse pulls the blanket across my legs and walks away.

The Deep End, by Barney MacFarlane

25/11/2015

Up top, Quinny Deeps was a naked virgin short of a sacrifice. He’d come out with some really dumb shit. Quinny’d go up to a vampire and ask, “How do you sleep at night?”

One time, over in England to visit some folks, Quinny was offered a pack of dolly mixtures – they’re a kind of candy. He didn’t like those dolly mixtures. “They was no dolls in it,” he complained.

Once when he forgot his meds, Quinny was like, disturbed. Thought transcendental meant a séance for folks with false teeth.

Deeps maybe – deep he ain’t.

The Leningrad Comet: July 1942, by Virginia Marybury

24/11/2015

Written for Armistice Day, 2015.

I lie in dust, a building broken into a bed for my fallen body. For a week now, the summer sun has not set, a bright ellipse in our smoke-faded firmament.

Not a sun, but an ill-omened comet, her tail pinned under a jackboot. She spins on that leash, careening between bombardments, straining to escape the siege horizons.

With her desperate straining toward the horizon, toward night, slowly the tether stretches.

She wallows for an hour, invisibly, in a violet sea.

Night! For sleep, for concealment, for hope.

Look! Here comes a deeper shadow. Someone is coming to rescue me.

Immigrants Need Not Apply, by Ann-Louise Truschel

23/11/2015

We are hearing three immigration cases today:

The first is a young man from the Caribbean, an illegitimate, uneducated orphan, with no visible means of support.

The second is an émigrés from France, wealthy but with no marketable skills or means of employment, who knows few people who can vouch for him.

The third flunked out of school, failed an apprenticeship twice, was fired as a tax officer twice in four years and twice ran away from home.

I cannot approve any of your applications. I order the immediate deportation of Alexander Hamilton, the Marquis de Lafayette and Thomas Paine.

By Marlene Goldberg

23/11/2015

Rebecca understood deceit. Words were weapons for her father, Laban. Her mother whispered: “man is the head of the household, but woman is the neck. Man must think he decides, while doing woman’s bidding.”

Isaac admired Esau’s prowess in the hunt as well as his dedicated service. Rebecca was not swayed by this seeming prodigal son, whose reputation as womanizer, and corrupt dealings were intimidating the neighbors. She must prevent the blessing he planned to bestow on Esau. Jacob was far more deserving. With fur-lined arms, lamb stew to taste like venison, Jacob approached his dying father. Isaac blessed him.

The Golfing Wish, by Russell Conover

23/11/2015

“Darn--another one in the water!” Jason fumed. The mountain golf course was eating him alive. Shot after shot went into the hazards, or into the unknown over huge drops.

“Oh, I wish I were playing better!” He scowled.

Suddenly, in a cloud of smoke, a genie appeared. “Is that your ONLY wish?”

Jason blinked. “Well, come to think of it ... ”

On the next hole, he swung the club, and flew right with the ball down the middle of the fairway, steering it in the right direction. From there to the clubhouse, let's just say he scored well.

The Condition, by Bobby Warner

22/11/2015

The Director of World Intelligence met with Bishop Rasner in a secret location. He knew that the fate of the world hung in the balance.

"So," said the Director. "I asked for a divine weapon against terrorists. Can you provide it?"

The bishop handed the Director a small package. "I asked for a miracle, and it has been granted. This works flawlessly, but has one condition."

"How does it work?"

"Identify the recipient of the punishment, locate your target or targets with geographic coordinates, launch this, and it shall be done. But only if the wielder is free of sin."

Body Talk, by Roshanna Sidney Evans

20/11/2015

"Stop acting like a wimp and trust your body. It knows what its doing."
"They said ‘be careful.’"
"Just because they said it doesn't mean it's legit. They aren't inside you, breathing you, sleeping you, caring for you. No, they’re mind-sucking you."
"You mean mind-fu**ing."
"No. Mind-sucking. Draining your natural intelligence. Sucking your thoughtfulness out. Displacing you. How could you forget that the second your cells were severed by the incision new, next gen, rep cells were instantly activated and replacing them before you left the operating table?
“I wasn’t thinking.”
“Thought-less.”
“Uncertain.”
“Cowardly.”
“Cautious.”
“Traitor.”
“Say something nice.”
“Trust.”

Moving Up, by Jane Reid

20/11/2015

Sue found the old folk tales about witches amusing. She didn’t ride a broom. At least, not often. She had better ways of dealing with people who got in her way.

There was that irritating man who seemed in line for a promotion she badly wanted. He came down with the worst case of salmonella his doctor had even seen. He was still on extended sick leave, and of course the company couldn’t wait that long to fill the position.

All it had required was a tiny molecular rearrangement of his lunch. Sue got a gratifyingly large pay raise.

A Healthy Dose Of Reality, by Jane Reid

20/11/2015

Mavis Hubbard, her sister, brother-in-law, two nephews and the family dog walked into her home after a wonderful week at a luxury hotel on an exotic beach.

Mavis had no high opinion of her sister’s husband. Still, he had won that vacation for them in a sweepstake sponsored by Dogeelicious. They had swum, surfed, water-skied, sunbathed, strolled beautiful beaches and flower-filled forests.

It was late afternoon. Now they were all tired and -- despite eating gourmet meals all week – hungry. Their long-ago airline lunch had been scanty.

Mavis went to the cupboard. But of course it was still bare.

Old Story, by Jane Reid

20/11/2015

Mavis Hubbard went to the cupboard to get her dog a treat. But the cupboard was empty.
“Why that lousy good-for-nothing brother-in-law,” she said. “He has cleaned me out.” Even the Dogeeliscious biscuits were gone.
Her dog whined.
As she stared at the bare shelves, her brother-in-law walked in the door. “I gave everything to the community food pantry,” he said. “I won the Dogeeliscious contest. The whole family leaves tomorrow for a pet-friendly luxury hotel in Bermuda, all expenses paid.
“Yes, you too, Rover,” he told the dog.
Mavis waited to wake up. Miracles didn’t happen. Did they?

The Ex-Jihadist, by Jane Tulloch

20/11/2015

I’m 40 now with a wife and three children. I look at them and feel only love. Where would I be without them? Where would they be without me?
I sit consumed, crippled by guilt. I was young, stupid, easily led, too ready to look for a cause, for a fight. For a chance to kill, to maim other people’s wives and children. And children? How could I? How could I be so cruel? I don’t deserve to live. I don’t deserve to die like my friends. There is no paradise for me: only this hell of my own making.

TFI Friday, by Emma Baird

20/11/2015

TFIF this week for sure…

What happened then, to make Friday so welcome this week?

Oh, you know… clients. Demanding ones. Forgetful ones. I had to re-issue three invoices this week.

Last Friday wasn’t a great day.

Good point. There are a lot of people who won’t recall Fridays with favour for a while.
We should re-claim Fridays of course. Show them we are not afraid.

Too right! Fridays are when we kick back aren’t they? We go out and we celebrate with our friends and families. We drink and we eat and we laugh.

Je suis en terrasse.

A Fine Romance, by Gordon Lawrie

20/11/2015

The evening was going well.

They’d met through www.findmyperfectmate.com; now they sat in a city-centre cafe. Mark called Shelley ‘brainy’, but he was pretty intelligent himself.

They shared many interests – books, music, and unusual foods – kidney, liver and – remarkably – sweetbreads. The evening flew by.

She considered inviting Mark to her flat, but decided that it was too soon. Instead – to his disappointment – she settled for a shop-doorway lingering kiss.

Suddenly, he pulled away. “Have you ever experienced a Norwegian kiss?”

“No. Go on.” She closed her eyes expectantly.

Her body was discovered next day, minus all of its internal organs.

End Of..., by Barney MacFarlane

18/11/2015

It's not cancer of liver or lung. Merely a papercut on my finger, the one I gesticulate with – or if crime is committed, press into an inkblock.
Not that my digit isn’t sore: wasn’t I howling like a sick lamb pre-guard of honour (check with your butcher) and squirming to the glee of my supposed loving partner, him cosseted there like the Rokeby bleedin’ Venus.
Good news – my misadventure won’t require a regular magazine column, an outpouring of solipsistic angst, interminable on account of new pills deferring termination: death a composition on decomposition.
For me, wounded indubitably, the story’s over.

The Fairest Of Them All, by Bobby Warner

16/11/2015

Molly, the fairest of them all! I brought her over from Dublin, and we were wed. Beautiful beyond words, she possessed a Tomboy's bravery.

We settled in a small town, and took long walks in the countryside. One day my enemy Jeff Tweed confronted us and waved a knife. "You're gonna die, Pete O'Leary," he mouthed, and lunged at me.

"You'll not harm my lad," said Molly, dashing in front of me and taking the knife in her chest. I gave Tweed a sound beating, then called the sheriff.

How I miss you, Molly! The bravest beauty that every was!

Brain Fried, by Russell Conover

14/11/2015

Ed was brain fried. He'd had the longest week at work, with stuff coming up left and right, and he just couldn't seem to get ahead.

He asked his coworkers what they did to relieve stress. “Go to your happy place!” they cheerfully suggested. “Imagine lollipops and unicorns and rainbows!”

Ed frowned, sure that they'd gone into the loony bin. Although, when he thought about it ...

He imagined a monkey dancing the Macarena while riding a unicycle, and laughed out loud. His work troubles were far from over. but at least he had a little chuckle. Small stuff really helps.

The Pit, by Bobby Warner

14/11/2015

Roger Ludley has more than his share of enemies, as do many of us. But he is unlike most of us in that he takes immediate and drastic action to right all wrongs done him.

First of all, he bought a pick and shovel and dug furiously in his back yard for several weeks.

Next he made an extensive "Enemies" list; and ever since Roger has gone savagely and remorselessly after all those who transgress against him.

On almost every cloudy or moonless night, Roger slips outdoors and tosses several more of his hapless offenders into the enormous pit.

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"Classic"
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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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