Blog Posts

The Missing Muse, by Janice Siderius

21/3/2023

Tradition

“Where is Calliope? She missed our monthly meeting,” Thalia asks while straightening her chiton.

“She was called away by an urgent message from Father Apollo. Apparently there have been complaints about her behavior,” responds Clio. “She has been distracted lately.”

“Distracted? Isn’t her job to inspire writers? I inspire comedy; you inspire history. No excuses,” Thalia retorts. “We muses have been doing this since Homer.”

“Apparently there is a writing contest afoot and she has been swamped with requests for help. Oh, look, here she comes.”

Calliope collapses, exhausted, onto the bench. “Darn that Gordon and his contests.”

1 Comment

Without Fear, by Scott Rhodie

20/3/2023

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Heroism

At home, we tell them hate is anger needing release, hard work is the answer, and sunshine touches everyone.

“Hi, Mrs. B, you ok?”

“Good, John.”

The children arrive from difficult plights and miserable lives, but we give them love and care.

“Police station, Mrs.B?”

“Ok, five minutes.”

Explanations of right and wrong, but hard backgrounds, mean slow changes.

“You understand, John?”

“Yeah, thanks, Mrs.B.”

He’ll come good; the others did. He’s part of a past and present family that will give him strength, but sunshine can take time.

My award said, hero, but I’m no hero.

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Dancing Lessons for a Merc, by Paramvir Singh Randhaw

20/3/2023

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Heroism

Amin didn’t know how to dance. He didn’t know how to sing. The truth was, he couldn’t even hum. He was excellent with a sword. He could hit an ant from a mile away with a bolt from a crossbow. He could even use magic. But for some reason, he felt like he couldn’t celebrate properly.
So, he took the biggest step he could in the many months since he moved to Vineta to be a mercenary. He took a deep breath and opened the door to Madame Emberley’s Dance Academy.

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If Not Me, by Malvina Perova

20/3/2023

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Heroism

“But you’re just a child. How could you do this?” the journalist asked.

Liza gazed at her bandages, remembering the excruciating pain in her calves when the shots flashed through the car side and made her passengers scream. Stiff and hot, she pressed the pedal, peeping over the wheel on the wrecked road, turning left and right, as uncle Slava instructed her in a voice trailing gradually away. Mother’s face, shaking in the rear-view mirror, grew almost snow-white pale, and baby Dima couldn’t stop sobbing.

“If not me,” Liza said in her new, calm and adult voice, “then who?”

1 Comment

Sandwich Man, by Gary Thomson

20/3/2023

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Will to survive

The advert offered hope: Sandwich man eats free. When has he last eaten free? Or tasty? Or healthy? Tent city fare scrapes a man’s spirit: soggy noodles, street dust.

Once his trading gains overarched all his competitors’. “Full company partner soon, Tibbett. Economy predicted to skyrocket.”

But markets and fireworks fizzle.

Today, also on offer: discourtesies [“Get a real job, dude”] and challenges [“Mister, you seen my lost pup?”].

Achy and windblown, he sheds his signboard – Sal’s Deli. Inside, his employer builds him a Minute Miracle: layered pastrami, smoked ham, cheddar, tomato, lettuce on rye.

Bounty draws a slender tear.

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Small Acts of Heroism, by Seshadri Sreenivasan

20/3/2023

1 Comment

Heroism

The bombs fell like rain, pounding the city into rubble. Amidst the chaos, Sofia clutched her younger brother tightly, shielding him from the blasts.
They saw a wounded soldier lying helpless on the ground as they ran through the rubble-strewn streets. Sofia hesitated, but she knew what she had to do. With her brother clinging to her back, she dragged the soldier to safety, ignoring the explosions and gunfire around her.
It was a small act of heroism in a brutal war, but even a little courage can make all the difference in the world.

1 Comment

Love is Blind, by James A. Tweedie

20/3/2023

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Will to survive

Amala was 18-years old when her parents arranged for her to marry her 53-year-old cousin, Anay.

“I will not marry him,” she screamed. “He has no heart—no soul.”

Her parents were stunned.

“Please, arrange for me to marry Rishi. He is a good boy. We love each other. I want to be happy and have his children. Mama, Papa, please!”

The next day two men met Amala on the street and threw acid in her eyes, blinding her.

“Now I shall never marry,” she wept.

But Rishi married her, anyway, and she found happiness in bearing him three sons.

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New Land, by Caleb Chung

20/3/2023

1 Comment

Tradition

When the migrant bride steps outside the airport, she is greeted by the tallest tree she’s ever seen (‘palm tree’). California is so foreign, so big, so far away from her homeland. Her new husband smiles and welcomes her to his town, but she has never felt more out of place. But on Sunday, she sees the cross of her husband’s church. She hears the familiar hymns and prayers, part of her cherished faith tradition. She finally feels at home, because God is always near.

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Badge of Honour, by Paul A. Freeman

20/3/2023

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Heroism

My metal detector uncovers a silver ‘discharge’ badge. ‘For King and Empire; Services Rendered’ it reads. Its serial number corresponds to Private William Roberts, injured by gas on the Somme.

My research uncovers a sad tale. Having misplaced his badge, William was adjudged a shirker. Women handed him white feathers. Thugs roughed him up. Perforce, his marriage to Brenda Routledge didn’t occur.

William emigrated.

On Zoom, I show Joey his great-grandfather’s discharge badge. He laughs when I mention the cancelled wedding and holds up a photograph of William and great-grandma Brenda Roberts.

“Never doubting her hero,” says Joey, “they eloped.”

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Burying the Future, by Ian Willey

20/3/2023

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Will to survive

When our future died we did the only thing we could. We closed its eyes, tucked in its paws, and carried it out back to bury it beneath the birch. You might think, this is the part where the tree starts to grow, the remains of the future feeding new life. You would be right! The birch shot up like the tower of Babel and the roots rippled the lawn, making it even harder to mow. We put red lights on top to keep airplanes from running into it. Helicopters have made nests in the tree. It will live forever.

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Light Candles and Carry On, by C. J. H. Dickens

19/3/2023

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Heroism

Sheltering in the hoped-for safety of the subway, the young woman and her sister huddled together as sirens sounded and bombs exploded in the distance. There was little point in worrying about a direct hit; what would be would be. Instead, they worked on their laptops, putting such dark thoughts away. Better to concentrate on their latest contract, to earn some money, and to pay taxes with pride towards the war effort.

Suddenly, the lights went out. Yet another strike had knocked out the local power station. As usual, everyone simply lit candles and carried on. That way lay victory.

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Our Strongest Instinct is Self-Preservation, by Lorraine Murphy

19/3/2023

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Will to survive

"Self-preservation is our strongest instinct, followed by procreation," Miss Lovely said, pouting in the classroom mirror and twirling her long blonde hair.
I didn't understand so raised my hand but the door swung open and Mr. Smith beckoned her outside. Through the mirror, I watched as he whispered in her ear and she giggled like one of us before returning to our room with sparkling eyes.
"Is Mr. Smith your boyfriend, Miss?" I asked.
Her face fell. "Don't be silly. Romantic relationships aren't allowed in this school, I could lose my job. Now what was your question?"

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What's for Lunch? by Deborah Shrimplin

19/3/2023

1 Comment

Will to survive

Deep in the Brazilian tropical rainforest, a poisonous dart frog sat on a leaf. Being hungry, he surveyed his environment and waited patiently for a victim to come within his tongue's reach.

When he spotted a small beetle crawling along the ground, he dropped to the ground and lashed out. The beetle died instantly.

The frog continued along the forest floor when a fire-bellied snake slithered in front of him. Fighting for his life, the frog lashed out his tongue over and over again, squirmed, trembled and jerked.

The snake swallowed and carried on through the forest.

1 Comment

Living in the Moment, by Krystyna Fedosejevs

19/3/2023

3 Comments

Will to survive

“I brought someone wanting to meet you,” Paul’s mother stated, stroking her son’s head.

“Not interested. Go away!”

“Hello, Paul. I’m Gail from down the hallway,” announced the stranger.

“Leave me alone!”

“Can you hear robins outside your window?” she asked.

“Why should I care? I’m dying.”

“You’re alive today. No one knows about the future.”

Gail seated herself on a bedside chair.

“We can talk another time, if you want,” she suggested. “I’m told we have similarities.”

“Like what?”

“We both lost our eyesight.”

Paul scrambled to touch Gail’s arm.

“Can you return tomorrow? I do hear birds singing.”

3 Comments

Getting One's Wings, by Allison Symes

19/3/2023

2 Comments

Tradition

‘I get you don’t like it. None of us did. We got on with it.’

‘It’s a long way down and…’

‘You must do this.’

‘There must be a better way…’

‘For someone to get their wings? How? Jump. It’ll be over before you know it.’

‘That worries me! Why are you sneaking around the back? You were going to push!’

‘Jump!’

The trainee jumped. Within seconds huge white wings unfurled from their back. The trainee, looking much happier, soared heavenwards.

The trainer smiled. Another newbie angel launched. Archangel material - probably not - but tradition was upheld.

2 Comments

Home Guard, by Brian Mackinney

19/3/2023

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Heroism

Percy wanted to do his ‘bit’ for the war effort as he was medically unfit for armed service but was ready to help on the home front. He was part of the team supporting the armaments factory when the German bombers used it as target practice. They left a trail of destruction and death with survivors clinging on.

After the All Clear was sounded Percy and his team moved in but, as they were helping the casualties, a bomber returned creating more panic and havoc. They heroically carried on tending the wounded trying to save lives avoiding the exploding wreckage.

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House of Weather, by Myram Huey

19/3/2023

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Will to survive

Blood's up, you can tell by the tread across the floorboards. Soon, the descent, the stomp in slippered feet. Or not. Pressure perhaps dropping. Or a sudden silence, so sudden the spiders pause and children hold their breath. Silence with claws. Dad's the weather; forecast changeable. How he feels is how it is. A cyclone on the stairway might clear the air. But the day ahead: that's the thing. The getting through. Unscathed if possible. Survival of the littlest. Mouse feet advisable till conditions calm. Blood up, blood down, pressure variable: it only makes all the difference in the world.

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Camp Etaples 1917, by Adrian McRobb

19/3/2023

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Heroism

My name is John Talbot, and I am a coward!
That's what they shout through the cell door window, when they bring me my bread and water.
"No meat for cowards!"
That's another one they like to shout as well, these men who smell of bluebell and boot polish, who's eyes have never seen death.

My appointment with the oak stake at the bottom of the courtyard draws ever near.
The blindfold and the piece of paper pinned to the chest as an aiming point, no its not for the faint hearted?

I can almost see it from my window...

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The Apple, by Alex Blaine

19/3/2023

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Heroism

In a cold, dark, wet concentration camp, an apple shines a golden glow on the guard's desk. An infant boy steals the apple and looks in wonder before taking the first bite, after a week of starvation. The guard comes back to find the apple gone. Enraged, he demands a confession. 'One by one, I'll take the youngest beyond the door until I have my confession.' An elderly man, who saw the whole event, says, quietly, 'It was me, I stole your apple. It was much like you - glowing outside but rotten on the inside. So give it your best.'

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Unsafe at any Safety, by Ken Poyner

19/3/2023

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Will to survive

Quibble believes it is best to remain anonymous. He has seen the masses withdraw from rationality before. It is not the aggrandized populist political policies, nor claims of wounded morality. It is the meanness and cruelty that is their true goal, untethered to the unfelt principles polished to justify it. Unease with shifting sensibilities creates grievances that can be assuaged only through anger and dominance. Quibble looks for signs as to the flag he must fly to squat on the mob’s good side. He has no opinions, only strategies. He has no desires, only cautions. Be simple. Be still. Hush.

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Legacy, by Mark Kuglin

19/3/2023

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Tradition

"I understand why people uphold family traditions," Tom said. His voice laden with disappointment. "They do so for connectivity. The traditions trigger memories of departed family members."

"That's true," his best friend Mike replied. "But what's troubling you?"

"The loss of legacy."

"You've lost me, how does...,?"

"After several generations, most people can't tell you why they follow them. They do so out of longstanding habit. The origin story of the tradition has been lost."

"As time passes, it's bound to happen."

"It shouldn't....Unlike the famous and infamous, who aren't forgotten, many ancestors become mostly meaningless names on tombstones."

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The Forgotten War, by Glen A. Palmer

19/3/2023

0 Comments

Heroism

The old man lay dying, succumbing to ravages of toxic chemical exposure he suffered decades before. No one knew of the great sacrifices made for his country. Unthinkable sacrifices were made in a conflict where he had no say, yet he was forced to fight.

He never discussed the atrocities witnessed as a young man, trauma he still relived as he slept every night, and all the friends who were left dead on a distant battlefield in the forgotten war. An unsung hero sent to a war that his compatriots never wanted, but politicians insisted upon. Peace at last.

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I Can't Do This Anymore, by Cynthia J. Ruff

19/3/2023

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Will to survive

She stood, again, in the basilica; like a used dish towel, never a break, growing thinner, grimier, scrubbier, by the day. Always needed by the obese organist, never thanked, never appreciated. His helpmate; cellmate? Perhaps, but what else did either of them have? She had to take charge or face being forever confined to this place and to promises made. Sunday morning, she leaves her apartment, gets in her car, with her few belongings, hits the road of life and a future surely better than this toxic existence. Damn the cost; damn this life. Freedom, joy – at last, mine.

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Waiting, by Martina Watson

19/3/2023

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Will to survive

Only a little bit longer.

The diagnosis came unexpectedly, yet Ariel had a hard time imagining life prior to all the pain, doctor’s appointments, and hours of chemotherapeutic drug administrations.

Like the locusts she had read about as a child, the aggressive cancer wreaked havoc as it spread throughout her body.

Only a little bit longer.

The nurses were amazed that Ariel had been able to stay around as long as she did; laying in the hospital bed, seeming to pine for something.

Finally, the familiar face she’d dreamed about appeared in the door frame. Ariel smiled.

Time for peace.

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Begins With H, by Cheryl Dahlstrand

19/3/2023

2 Comments

Heroism

It was lunchtime at the retirement center.

The newspaper featured the Veterans Day Observance downtown.

“Wade, it says you received a congressional commendation for past service in Vietnam.”

“They did give me one. I guess it was for-" he hesitated, “things I did over there.”

“It says a roadside land mine exploded by your jeep. Although injured, you dragged two men out of the line of fire. You then jumped into the lead truck and singlehandedly maneuvered the supply convoy out of the kill zone.”

She smiled. “Now I understand why heroism and humility both start with the letter H.”

2 Comments

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

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