As a busy, single mom of four robust boys, organisation was key to handling life. Storage was a major element in the parental organisational plan. Mason jars were Sal’s new thing. They could store anything from bits and bobs, jam, pencils, coins, spices – you name it.
Devon had even found it useful for his school project. Some odd-looking crafty thing. She didn’t ask any questions. The main thing is he did it on his own. Later at work, she questioned the jar’s usefulness, when she reached for her lunch (salad in a jar), and pulled out Devon’s project instead.
This was a challenging picture for me. It’s a bit late but I wish all my fellow fictioneers a Happy and Prosperous New Year! Looking forward to another year with this awesome lot.
Written for Friday Fictioneers hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. Write a story in 100 words or less. Click the blue frog to read more flash fiction or to submit your own.
He waited for hours, watching. Waiting. Hidden behind a tree. Or pretending to stroll on the park lanes. People didn’t notice Thomas. Not when he asked for coins in his cup, and not as he circled this part of the park. His eyes fixed on the pair of boots abandoned on the low wall. He waited for the owner to claim them. Everyone ignored them, just as they ignored Thomas. Taking a deep breath, he crept closer and plucked them off the wall. Safely on his way, he felt pleased his brother would have a good pair of boots.
When he first entered his cabin up in the woods, the strange item caught him off guard. Not strange as in unknown, he was old not ancient, but strange as in not belonging to him. He could use a computer, even operate this laptop version too. Only he didn’t own a laptop. Even stranger still was the young woman who rose from her hiding place behind the kitchen island, hands in a surrender position at her shoulders.
She looked familiar. Then he remembered. Dusty. Hazy. Her face on the news, posters and milk cartons. Years ago. Missing.
“Dad?” she said.
Getting my flash fiction in just before the doors slide closed on this Friday Fictioneers train.
I don’t know how this guy didn’t know he had a daughter. It seems people have lied to him and a missing girl (on the run or kidnapped) comes to find him. Guess they’ll have a lot to work through! Once she proves she is his daughter, that is.
Written for Friday Fictioneers hosted by the gracious Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. Write a story in 100 words or less. Click the blue frog icon to submit your story or read what others have written.
“Stop eyeing the busty boss, and get to it!” Alan, commanded him, mouth twisting around a chewed up twig.
“I wasn’t even looking at her bust – quick, she’s coming! Look busy!”
“I have been busy.”
A white summer dress breezed towards them, skimming slim calves. She tapped on the carved wood, sighed and cocked her head. “Boys, this is no good. It needs to be more… interesting. More depth. It’s too shallow.” The wind carried her off.
“I think she’s talking about you.” Hector grinned. Then, “You think she was flirting with me?’
“Work!” growled Alan.
Well, one can always wish, Hector.
Hope you enjoyed this week’s flash fiction. Thanks To J.S Brand for this week’s intriguing prompt.
Written for Friday Fictoneers hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. The challenge is to write a story in 100 words or less.
Click the blue frog for more stories by awesome writers / friends.
The painting caught her eye on her first day of work at the museum. Art always spoke to some part of her, but this was different. The sinking ship was vivid and disturbingly familiar, although it was hundreds of years old.
That sense of familiarity stayed with her long after she left work at closing time. Following her into her dreams, where people beside her leapt off the sides of the sinking ship into icy waters. A little boy cried as she tried to soothe him in a language she shouldn’t have known, while icy fear turned her skin pale.
I’m not a believer in past lives or reincarnation. They make for interesting stories though, don’t they?
Written for Friday Fictioneers hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. The challenge is to write a story in 100 words or less.
Click the blue frog to read more flash fiction by other authors, or to submit you own.
In the old days, we had magic mirrors, crystal balls and reflection pools. Today we have Facebook. Fairy God Mother was eager to see what her princesses were up to.
An image popped up of a yellow-haired beauty, locks trailing the floors of a refurbished circular room. Guten Tag! Renovations completed! Hashtag new life begins.
FGM smiled, then grimaced at the next image.
Another blonde pouted, in that awful duck face. Date night with my prince! In the comments a brunette posted, Enjoy the honeymoon phase while it lasts, Cindy. Once a beast always a beast.
Oh Belle, sighed FGM.
I hope you enjoyed my modern take on fairytale princesses. I quite enjoyed writing this too.
Thought I would add this much needed update: The abbreviated form of Fairy God Mother to FGM was definitely intended for humour. However I did not have enough words to add a tidy quip that it didn’t have any references to genital mutilation of any kind.
And the three princesses are in sequential order: Rapunzel, Cinderella and Belle from Beauty and the Beast.
Is anyone here participating in NaNoWriMo? I plan on doing it this year. Properly this time. 😉
Written for Friday Fictioneers hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. The challenge is to write a story in 100 words or less. Go!
Click the blue frog icon to read more flash fiction or to add yours to the list.
I’ve joined in a bit late this week. But better late than never.
I’m in the middle of a glorious drug withdrawal. Prescription drugs. All legal – but no less debilitating than if I was a recovering heroin junkie. On the bright side, it means autoimmune disease is under control with less medication.
Back on the dark side, it means my sarcasm is at dangerously high levels.
“If you come back now, Mordow will forgive everything.” Samson called to her, his subordinates blocking the alley entrance behind him.
Reya’s heart squeezed at the sight of him. “You don’t know who they really are. Come with me, Sam.”
She thought she saw a flash in his eyes. Of love. “I’m not a traitor.”
“Your choice.” She scrambled over the slippery wall, landing in the piazza, crowded with tourists braving the rain. A sea of umbrellas spilled before her. She ran to the thickest part and looked back to see Samson standing on top of the wall. Searching hopelessly.
Trying to squeeze in my flash fiction for this week. Hope you all enjoy it. My story reflects my enduring search for Truth and Love. Which to me are the same thing. Truth exists despite lies, denial. So does Love. More than that, I’m learning that love shines a light on the truth.
Thanks to Dale Rogerson for this week’s prompt. Such an awesome image, that I was struck with writer’s block for once.
Written for Friday Fictioneers hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields where the challenge is to write a story in 100 words or less.
Looks like we’re in Europe this week for my story. I experienced those crowded piazzas on a solo trip to Italy a few years ago. Awesome vibe. Amazing sights.