Blog Archives

Winners and Losers, by Tom Baldwin

26/7/2024

The richest man in the world looked down fifty floors at the masses in the streets and wondered what they were protesting about this time. Lack of jobs, maybe, or housing, or food. He shrugged. They all had their chance to succeed, and it wasn’t Marlowe’s fault that so many were bound to fail in a competitive world, where the strong won through and the rest were left behind.

Marlowe despised weakness.

He wondered if his son was in the crowd. Three years ago he had given Jackson, his eldest, one of his companies to run. At first he had done well, but then failed to foresee and allow for a brief downturn in the economy and the company had gone bankrupt. Marlowe had banished Jackson to the streets as punishment, and a warning to his other children.

Marlowe despised incompetence.

His wife joined him at the window to watch the mob. Simone was much younger than Marlowe, very beautiful, and her perfect face never showed emotion.

Marlowe and Simone despised emotion.

As they watched the crowds below, a dull ache in Marlowe’s chest slowly grew to intolerable pressure, and he collapsed lifeless to the floor. Simone sighed and arranged for his body to be removed.

Then the richest woman in the world looked down fifty floors at the masses in the streets.

She despised losers.

Things with Wings, by Roberta Beach Jacobson

26/7/2024

As the turbulence increases I’m starting to realize I’m on the wrong flight. I unbuckle my seat belt.

A flight attendant rushes to my side. “You need to fasten your belt please. Remain seated,” he scolds.

I feel the first tear hit my cheek.”There’s been a terrible mistake,” I tell him. “I’m supposed to be sitting in 18B on a flight from Chicago to Denver.”

He tsks-tsks me. “Well, you’re in 23A, and our route is Seattle to Las Vegas. Have a pleasant flight.”

“How can something like this happen?”

“It can’t,” he assures me, before marching toward his seat.

“Excuse me. I shouldn’t have to stay trapped in here,” I call out. “Obviously you don’t understand the complexity of my situation. I’ve got a connecting flight to make in Denver.”

Still in the aisle, he spins around toward me, asking, “To where?”

“I don’t actually remember, but I spent $410 on my ticket.”

Winners and Losers at the Buy Rite Mini Mart, by Robin Shepard

19/7/2024

In his freshly pressed suit, day-old haircut, and polished black oxfords, he appeared out of place that early in the morning, pumping the high octane into his black-on-black BMW coupe.
“And a SuperLotto ticket,” he said, handing the poorly aging woman at the register a crisp twenty-dollar bill. “Just quick pick it. I’m in a hurry.”
Everything in this fucking town’s run down and dirty, he said to himself.
“Glad to be passing through your charming hamlet,” he almost sneered. She was oblivious to his sarcasm.
“I hope you get lucky and win the whole pot,” she offered kindly as he opened the door and walked to his car.
Win the whole pot, he thought, what the fuck does she know about it? He stuck the ticket in his coat pocket. Luck’s got nothing to do with it.
He was reaching for his keys when the menacing form of a hooded stranger emerged from behind the gas pump, startling him into sudden awareness. Something flashed in his hand. A knife? A gun?
His heart pounded in his chest. Before he knew it, the stranger was close enough to smell his sour breath.
“You know the drill,” he threatened, “let’s do this the easy way.”
He handed over his billfold and watch, failing to remove his wedding band.
“Here, that’s all I’ve got.”
“I’ll take your phone too, as a precaution, you know.” The stranger laughed sarcastically.
“No, I need that phone for business,” he protested. “All my work is in that phone. I can’t let you have it.”
The stranger pressed something sharp against his ribs. A knife, sweet jesus, he screamed inside, I don’t want to be stabbed to death in this shithole town.
“Look, I’ll give you this,” reaching into his pocket and pulling out the lottery ticket. “It’s the SuperLotto. The pot is up to $24 million. I’ve got a hunch there’s a winner here.”
“Well,” said the stranger slowly, “today just might be your lucky day.”

Howard Laughs Last, by Robert P. Bishop

19/7/2024

Rachel folded the morning paper, put it on the table and said, “Your brother Reuben died a year ago today.”

Howard chewed a mouthful of oatmeal and blueberries, swallowed and said, “Yes. Do you remember what he said he would do on my grave if I died first?”

“He was joking. He would never do that.”

“Yes he would. You’ve forgotten what Reuben was like. He was a bully, and he never joked.” Howard wolfed up more oatmeal and blueberries.

“Give it a rest, Howard. Reuben’s dead.”

“I can’t. Reuben said he was going to have the last laugh on me. But he died first. Now I get to have the last laugh on him. And I’m going to do it.”

“Howard, no.”

“I’m going to the cemetery after breakfast. Do you want to come with me?”

“No! What you are going to do is disgusting. I don’t want to see it.”

“It will be interesting.”

“I told you I don’t want to see it. Why do you men always want to do such horrible things to each other? Just leave!”

Howard got out of his car and walked to Reuben’s grave. “Well, Brother, I’m alive and you are dead. Remember what you said you would do on my grave if I died first? It looks like the last laugh is mine, Bro, so here goes.” Howard placed the flower bouquet on Reuben’s grave and walked away.

Amy's Inheritance, by Deborah Shrimplin

12/7/2024

Amy had a meeting with her graduate advisor at UCSF in an hour to discuss the final revision of her short story. She couldn't be late. As she grabbed her laptop, her cellphone rang. It was her mother in New Mexico.

"Mom, I can't talk right now. I've got a meeting with my advisor."

"Amy, I have some wonderful news for you."

"You've signed up for a tech class? You're dying your gray hair? You're on another diet? Can it wait? Sorry, mom. I'm in a hurry."

"You can apologize to the prof and blame it on me. This is important. Do you remember your Great-Aunt Sophie?"

"Of course. She wrote fantastic romance novels. We always talked about writing. After reading some of my stories, she thought I had potential. Last time I saw her was at the family reunion three years ago. She was living in an assisted living community and confined to a wheelchair. Don't tell me she passed away."

"Yes, I'm afraid she did."

"Oh, I'm so sorry. She was such an inspiration."

"I'm sorry, too. Apparently, she remembered you. This morning, I received a phone call from her lawyer. He's looking for you."

"Looking for me? Why?"

"Little did we know she had a secret."

"Oh, my goodness. A secret?"

"Yes. And, boy is it a good one. For years, she had a secret lover and a secret hideaway in the Sonoma foothills. Nobody in the family knew."

"No way!"

"Yes! And, according to the lawyer, after her lover died, she never went back to the cabin but she kept possession of it."

"You're kidding. Mom, that's unbelievable. Our Aunt Sophie?"

"Yes. You better believe it. I think their relationship was the foundation of her romance novels. Her lawyer says her instructions are quite explicit. You are to publish her diaries, inherit the cabin, and you're given the rights and royalities to all of her work."

"I still don't believe it."

"This is quite an honor and responsibility. I'm going to send you the address and keys to the cottage. When you get over the shock, drive up to the cabin and look around. It's all yours. Take pictures with your fancy cellphone and send them to me."

Three weeks later, Amy's mom looked at the images of Aunt Sophie's secret hideaway. She called Amy and said, "Look at the picture of the blue bench."

"Yes, the whole cabin needs work. I've got a lot of clean-up to do."

"No, no. Don't you recognize the bench? Her first best selling romance novel was titled "The Blue Bench". Can't you just picture two lovers sitting on that bench in a beautiful garden sharing their private moments? I bet her first novel was an autobiography."

"Could be. But, our Aunt Sophie?"

"Sure. Why not?"

Ghosted, by Marjan Sierhuis

12/7/2024

Are you tired of being…
-single
-alone
-lonely

Do you…
want to meet your perfect match?

Look no further---

Who are we?
An international matchmaking site

Our mission:
-empower our clients so they can make a meaningful connection

And if you are a customer who has used our dating website in the past, we would love to hear about your experience

***
My name is Allesandro.

I was lonely and wanted to meet someone with whom I was compatible and who enjoyed similar hobbies.

Last November, I came across your matchmaking site. A strong wind blew across my home in the mountain peaks of Eastern Europe. But I was lucky there was no interference with the transmission of signals to my computer.

I supplied a photo. It was a myth that vampires can’t be caught on film. Your site suggested I make a few changes to my physical appearance. I refused at first. You see, I was attached to my retractable fangs, black flowing hair and long nails. But I promised to give it some thought. So, I trimmed my hair.

The following March, I was stoked when you matched me with Esme. She lived in Western Europe. She was attracted to my level of maturity, my sense of humor and my confidence.

I was captivated by her sparkling eyes, beautiful smile and aesthetically pleasing neck. Her charming personality was a bonus.

My physical appearance wasn’t going to be an issue she said.
“After all, looks fade.” “She wanted to be surprised.”

So, we communicated online for the next month.

Since my eyes are sensitive to sunlight and I dislike wearing protective sunglasses, our first encounter would have to be later in the day. She didn’t see that would be a problem.

When I told her not to worry, if my eyes were black when we met. It just meant I was thirsty and in dire need of liquid refreshment.

“No problem. Let’s select a place that serves consumable liquids,” she said.

In April, we chose a location that was easily accessible to both of us. I sent her a photo so she would recognize me.

I just finished another wine tour in Tuscany. Esme has yet to show. I think I have been ghosted.

Winners and Losers, by Tom Baldwin

Things with Wings, by Roberta Beach Jacobson

Winners and Losers at the Buy Rite Mini Mart, by Robin Shepard

Howard Laughs Last, by Robert P. Bishop

Amy's Inheritance, by Deborah Shrimplin

Ghosted, by Marjan Sierhuis

Longer
Stories

Longer Friday Flash Fiction Stories

Archives

Winners and Losers, by Tom Baldwin

Things with Wings, by Roberta Beach Jacobson

Winners and Losers at the Buy Rite Mini Mart, by Robin Shepard

Howard Laughs Last, by Robert P. Bishop

Amy's Inheritance, by Deborah Shrimplin

Ghosted, by Marjan Sierhuis

LongerStories

Longer Friday Flash Fiction Stories

Archives

Longer
Stories