Blog Archives - Friday Flash Fiction

At Santa's Grotto, by Gordon Lawrie

24/12/2024

A little boy is next at Santa’s Grotto.

“Well, young man, what’s your name?|

“Noah,” the boy replies.

“Nice name. And have you been good this year?”

“I hope so.”

“Very good, Noah. What would you like for Christmas? A football?”

Noah hesitates. “Santa, I don’t really need any toys. What I’d like for Christmas is peace in Ukraine, the bombing of Gaza to stop, children to stop dying in mass US gun shootings, racist attacks in the streets to end… and for people not to starve anywhere in the world.”

Santa sighs. “Would you settle for a train set?”

Christmas Combat, by Dart Humeston

23/12/2024

Jake and his wife, Emily, were sitting in their car with the back seat and trunk filled with packages.

“Christmas is like combat.” Jake said. “Figuring out who will be
giving us gifts so we can buy appropriate gifts for them.

It was three years ago that your fifth cousin gifted us that fancy coffee maker. We gave her nothing.

“I didn’t even know her name, for God’s sake!” Jake belched out.

“Honey, breathe deep, it’s all over!” We bought everyone gifts.”

“I forgot you. “Jake said.

“Shit! I forgot you!” Emily shouted.

Both car doors sprung open.

In the Melting Pot, by Sherri Bale

21/12/2024

WINNER, CHRISTMAS COMPETITION 2024

The Salvation Army elf clanged his bell, chanting “Merry Christmas”. I dropped a few coins in his cauldron. At Kram’s Kosher Bakery, Mr. Kram wished me “Happy Chanuka”. I bought chicken at the Khartoum Halal grocery, and received holiday wishes, “Aeyad Saeida”. My Seventh Day Adventist neighbors wished me “Blessings of the Season” as I came up the steps to my apartment.

I’d been so down in the dumps. Politics, you know. But my walk in the neighborhood gave me a glimmer of optimism. If we could keep this feeling of goodwill throughout the year, there was hope for humanity.

Season's Greetings From the Lair, by Michael T Schaper

20/12/2024

SHORTLISTED, CHRISTMAS COMPETITION 2024

After yet another year being terrorised, the villagers decided to offer their local dragon a Yuletide peace offering.

A deputation was sent up to her mountainside lair.

“Stop eating us,” their leader pleaded, depositing a large treasure bag with the monster, “and we’ll gift you this, plus more in future.”

The beast nodded slowly, thinking.

That evening they gathered in the village square to celebrate the outcome, unaware of the giant serpent circling above.

She readied to let out a burst of flame, smiling happily.

Some presents and now a roast dinner. No wonder she loved Christmas.

The Lady in the Window Seat, by Deborah Shrimplin

20/12/2024

SHORTLISTED, CHRISTMAS COMPETITION 2024

Tony groaned when he saw the old lady he would have to sit next to on the fifteen hour flight to Africa. She was his grandmother's age, dressed like a Bohemian and smelled of cough drops. Being a spoiled, entitled youth, Tony thought he would ignore her.

"Going to Cape Town, my dear?" the lady asked.

"Visiting extended family," he quipped. "And, you?"

"Ever since my tech company donated two hundred drones to deliver medicine and food to villagers in remote areas, the UN has asked me to be a Goodwill Ambassador."

Tony gasped. His face turned red.

Christmas 1914, by Julie Turland

20/12/2024

SHORTLISTED, CHRISTMAS COMPETITION 2024

Up to his knees in the squelching slime, Billy sobbed. The putrid stench of decay permeated the atmosphere. Just seventeen, he had believed the lies that painted the Germans as monsters. Now all he wanted was home.

An eerie, ethereal glow emanated from above as the haunting melodies of carols floated through the crisp winter air. No more firing, instead a chance of goodwill.

Over the top, both sides united. Gifts were exchanged, cigarettes smoked as he discovered young boys like himself asking.

“What are we fighting for?”

No answers came that Christmas night. Can anyone answer the question now?

Through the Valley, by Marie C. Higgins

20/12/2024

SHORTLISTED, CHRISTMAS COMPETITION 2024

“I come in peace,” he yelled, one hand behind his back as he opened the house door. I knew he hadn’t seen me, in an alcove of the unheated porch, having finished my cigarette. I was off duty, enjoying the fading ridge. I had come to watch my grandchildren while my daughter-in-law dropped her father at the depot. He had ruined Christmas morning, coming for money, not reconciliation, putting everyone at odds with each other. My son, who needed to decompress, had just returned. He must’ve driven through the valley because he clutched wild mistletoe, the only kind which works.

Recitation in Future Tense, by Laura Kuhlmann

20/12/2024

SHORTLISTED, CHRISTMAS COMPETITION 2024

He’ll ask me out once he sees me in my new red dress.
We’ll have a few hours to ourselves before his parents get home.
He’ll be gentle.
We’ll get better at it with time.
We’ll have our wedding at the fanciest restaurant in town.
We’ll welcome our son in the peace of our home.
We’ll find a doctor to operate on our baby’s heart.
We’ll have another baby.
He’ll spend less time at work, he’s just under a lot of pressure right now.
He’ll stop seeing her.
He’ll never call me that awful name again.
He won’t leave me.

Winning Hands Down, by Steven Holding

13/12/2024

Often, he’d offer up an open palmed high-five. Digits, two down, two split, thumb tucked made a peace sign. Twisting the wrist flicked V’s at the British; forefinger folded flipping everyone else the bird.
But his clenched fist, that was the one that meant business. A bare knuckle shuffle with a brass knuckle duster.
He knew that to really connect with the people, he had to reach out and touch them. Rubbing his ring finger, he extended his index and pushed the button.
Ancient arthritic claw slowly flowering, waving a last goodbye, he could see his outstretched limb was trembling.

Three Wise Women, by Daniela Tabrea

13/12/2024

Underneath an alien roof, Alina understood Christmas would not come again. The basic elements were there: a fir tree crowned with a sparkling star; the waft of sour peppers atop beef salad; mama's smile, bright and reassuring; Alina sang “Three Wise Men,” and her babusya listened with a silent sob. This was a pale reproduction of something they had lost when her father left for Odessa and was sent back in a casket.

The words of the carol caught in her throat. Alina looked at mama and babusya. Their voices united:
“Bearing greetings of peace.”

Christmas Spirit? by A C Clarke

13/12/2024

‘Coat off!’ Lisa hesitates. The burly guard grabs her arm. She unzips her parka and watches the tangerines drop to the floor. Her first attempt at shoplifting.

‘I’m calling the manager. ’Minutes tick by.

‘Not another one,’ groans the manager, a small, brisk woman: ‘What’s your excuse?’

Lisa is crying now: ‘I awis gie the weans a tangerine in their stockings. I’ve nae money for toys an the Food Bank’s nae goat fresh food this year.’

‘That’s true: it was in the paper. Ah well, season of goodwill and all that …’

Lisa goes free – but without the tangerines.

Finding Peace, by AC Brooke

13/12/2024

‘Mummy, is it Christmas?’

‘No. Stop shaking me,’ I mumbled, opening my eyes.

5:07.

‘It’s the middle of the night. Go to bed, Liv. Now.’

Our five-year-old daughter disappeared. Silas slept on beside me. Oblivious.

At seven-fifteen my alarm gleefully told me I’d lost the chance to get back to sleep.

Getting up, I pulled the curtains back. Snow. Several centimetres.

‘Yippee!’ Liv cheered from her room. She ran downstairs, unlocked the back door and shot outside. Coat, yes. Boots, yes. Squeals, yes.

I might manage an hour. I nudged Silas awake. Returned to bed. Peace at last.

Stars, by Faye Rapoport DesPres

13/12/2024

Five children sat on a hillside late one night, feeling the cold earth beneath their winter clothes and the fingers of their cotton gloves. Emelie pointed at the star that shone brightest in the sky.

“That is the Star of Bethlehem,” she said.

“It shines like the Star of David,” Aviv replied.

“The crescent moon is nearby; it is the Guiding Star,” said Hassan.

Doba sighed, “It is the Morning Star.”

“Look at all the stars in that area; they form an Endless Knot,” Malai said.

Peace settled upon them as, one by one, they reached for each other’s hands.

Josef's Troubles, by Jenny Wells

13/12/2024

Against the baby’s skin his work-rough fingertips, coarse grained as his stock-in-trade sandpaper, chaffed the child. His tiny boy stared at the sturdy fingers, at the lips muttering,

“⸺bless the work of my hands…Oh blessed are you, safe from harm ⸺” he lifted the boy higher “⸺Oh blessed are you, safe from harm. You will shape the world…follow in my footsteps… a carpenter, creator of beautiful things. Of useful things. For good. For peace.”

He placed the baby down softly; there was work to do.

Today he had to build a cross for a condemned man.

A Peaceful Port in the Storm, by Jenna Hanan Moore

13/12/2024

Newly divorced and wondering how she’ll make Christmas special, Laura stops at Martha’s Bake Shoppe for cookies. The aroma transports her back to the tiny apartment Mama rented above a bakery in 1968. Then, as now, the world was falling apart, but she spent happy hours listening as Mama taught piano in the parlor, the smell of bread baking below filling their cozy home. Peace and joy reigned inside despite the chaos outside.

Now it’s Laura’s turn. She inhales the aroma once more, then trudges home through the snow with the cookies, determined to create a refuge for own children.

Chic Cousin Cordelia, by AC Brooke

13/12/2024

Fast studio flat makeover. Hide the cheap-looking. Display the expensive. Shouldn’t’ve left this until the last minute.

No time for more. Must pick up cousin Cordelia from Heathrow. In her photos, Cordelia always looks like she’s off to a top restaurant. I live in London. London shops. London fashion. Heaven for Cordelia.

‘Do you want to rest after your journey?’ I ask her.

‘Slept on the plane. I’m still on New York time. The day is young and I’m not with you long. Where’s the best Goodwill?’

A goodwill, it turns out, is a kind of charity shop.

Doing What They Could, by John M. Carlson

13/12/2024

Santa Claus took a big sip of cocoa. Mrs. Claus had generously spiked the cocoa, which made it very welcome after watching the nightly news.

“I wish I could do more than give toys!” Santa sighed. “Like give peace to the world. Feed all the hungry.”

“You can only do what you can do,” said Mrs. Claus.

“True.”

“Your gifts brighten the lives of children. That’s worth a lot! It’s a dark time, but it would be so much darker if there weren’t people doing what they could do to make the world a brighter place.”

Last Christmas, by Glo Curl

13/12/2024

‘Never a moment’s peace with you prattling on,’ he’d grumbled, shaking out the paper and pretending to immerse himself in old news. She’d sighed, muttering ‘Maybe not the best day,’ and returned to the sink to peel potatoes.

The microwave pings and the clatter of cutlery accompanies a tuneless humming from the kitchen.
‘Turkey with all the trimmings, Larry. Merry Christmas.’
He summons a weak smile for the now familiar young face, picks up his fork and prods the unappetising mound in front of him. She puts on her coat and pulls the door shut.
The silence is suffocating.

Goodwill to All Men, by Sandra James

13/12/2024

“And… goodwill to all men.” The beggar’s eyes seemed to look deep into her soul.

She shuddered. All men? No, surely not her ex-husband, the man who changed as soon as their wedding vows were spoken, who tormented and put her down, almost destroyed every shred of her self-confidence.

Their children wanted him to share Christmas with them; the first time all the children had been together in ten years. Despite everything, they’d forgiven him. He was their father.

Should she? Could she? It was only one day. Christmas Day.

She dropped a coin into the beggar’s hat.

“Merry Christmas.”

A Meeting of Christmas Future, by Nicky Johnson

13/12/2024

“Of course you’ll get a piece. I know you got sent away awhile, but there’s always a spot on my crew.”

Jimmy stood, looking out the tiny office window above the laundromat. Detergent from below mixed with smoke from within made for an unsettling smell. Snow fell heavily. “I don’t want a PIECE. I want some PEACE.”

Jimmy’s gaze shifted intently to a photograph of a little girl cupped in his hand. His heart ached as he calculated passing time.

“That, I can’t offer,” the voice replied.

Jimmy lifted his collar and turned to the door, to a life unknown.

A Piece of Peace, by Sandra James

13/12/2024

She sighed, adding another red cross to the tattered sheet of paper. Surely by the law of averages, Toby should get at least half the words right but they rarely were.

There or their, ate or eight; Toby picked the wrong one every time. She patiently encouraged, silently prayed. A good report would offer him a better future than the poverty stricken, violent homelife he’d been born into.

He approached her after graduation, held out drooping flowers and a card.

Dear Miss,

Thank you for giving me a piece of peace when I needed it most.

Last Christmas, by Teri Wright

12/12/2024

Megan admires the tree despite its leftward lean and bashed branches.

She recalls the awkward moment earlier when she’d asked Steve to get the boxes down from the loft. She’d waved him off with the twins soon after, promising she wouldn’t decorate it without them.

Her first Christmas Eve alone, Megan finds the silence overwhelming. She selects a radio station playing non-stop carols, hums along as the tears fall. Pictures the twins creating new traditions with Steve and her replacement.

As her sobbing increases, she reaches for the whisky and paracetamol. Raises a toast to their happiness. Seeks inner peace.

X-Mas, by Teri Wright

12/12/2024

Santa removed his pince-nez and placed the document on the desk. He glanced around his workshop, at the half-finished rockets and cars covering all available surfaces. Smiled at the memories evoked: of reading children’s letters; designing fun gifts; forming a team of industrious elves.

His gaze returned to the contract. An opportunity to retire. To be rid of the late nights, the stress, elves’ demands for employee status, the complaints from ungrateful recipients.

‘It’s a generous offer Elon, but you haven’t accounted for goodwill.’

A decillion was swiftly added to the valuation. Satisfied, Santa added his signature by the X.

Just What He Was Looking For, by Robert Ludemann

12/12/2024

Cooling off, Justin scrutinized the Goodwill racks hoping for lost treasures, something that would fit in his backpack as he had no money. The treasure would be the fuel that launched him from this wretched life. When nothing caught his eye, he settled into the book section and read, treating it like a library. He’d read a section or two and if he liked it into his satchel, it went. The poem had the store name and promised Bells. Longfellow, that’s a funny name. The feel of the cover and the smell of the pages, a treasure, Christmas in July.

Recycling, by Bill Cox

12/12/2024

In the recycling bin sits -

The magazine with the holiday idea we were so excited about.

A torn slip of paper with a reckless phone number on it.

The crumpled drinks can, held in a hand seized by anger.

The takeaway coffee cup from when we met, declaring a truce, waiting to see if the peace would hold.

The ripped letter, where your words of apology were found to be inadequate to the task.

The plastic container of a microwave meal for one.

Atop it all rests my heart, broken, but, with some care, fit to be used again.

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