PHOTO PROMPT © Ronda Del Boccio
Andersen found mowing the lawn unexpectedly therapeutic. At first he loathed it. Now he found it strangely satisfying to see it cleanly cut. A car pulled up at the house opposite. A tall man emerged. Andersen smiled, waved at his neighbour. It had only been a few months but he knew him so well already.
He waited till he closed his front door. Then Andersen lit a cigarette, eyeing the plumbing van on the street.
Swat teams emerged in stealth mode from the van, surrounding his neighbour’s house.
Oh yes, Andersen loved the satisfaction of a job well done.
Grass to marijuana to drugs to human trafficking or other crime syndicates. That was my thought process for an undercover agent story 😉
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.
get the InLinkz code
PHOTO PROMPT © Ted Strutz
His question caught her off-guard. The room spun around her and she gripped the edges of the lectern to steady herself.
“Ms Silver, how would you explain the Hannah May incident?”
It was no secret that she had been Hannah’s life coach. A fact that tormented her. Buried guilt rose from past failures. Oversights.
It was she who had encouraged her to push past her fears, return to her love of sailing. She died in the storm of 2004. Neither sailboat nor her body was ever found.
Ms Silver found her voice, “Hannah May was brave enough to follow her dreams.”
Life coaches are amazingly positive people. And I’m sure they have their demons too. Ones they wrestle with and from which they find their own growth. Whatever the situation, it’s important to face fears that keep you from your dreams or the change you want to make in your life.
Have a happy Wednesday!
get the InLinkz code
PHOTO PROMPT © Danny Bowman
“Why can’t I go to my old school?” I sobbed.
“Because we live here now, Mitch, and your old school is hundreds of miles away.” Dad replied.
Dad promised that I would love the new city, the new house and my new school. I didn’t trust the promises adults made. I used to believe everything they said. You’re my little boy, Mitch. I’ll always be right here with you. That’s what mom used to tell me. Then she left and I never saw her again.
Dad calls her a nasty cyst. Whatever that is. I just miss her.
**nasty cyst = narcissist (Of course, Mitch doesn’t know what a narcissist is and hears something different 🙂 )
Written for Friday Fictioneers hosted by Rochelle, where the challenge is to write a complete story in 100 words or less.
I had trouble accessing the link last week (don’t know why) and so if you haven’t yet read my FF post from last week, you may read it here: Ransom.
Click here to read more flash fiction.
PHOTO PROMPT © Liz Young
Shona pulled up her collar. A fine mist gathered around the group, complicit in their betrayal.
Everything about death was cold. Light leaves the eyes. Blood stops flowing, warmth dissipates. But this arm, though limp in her grasp, felt warm.
She wished she could turn back time. Just an hour. Before it all went wrong. She knew they were on the point of no return as they tossed their friend into the shallow hole in the ground, and covered her with dirt. Shona watched till the dirt piled high, then they patted it flat and covered it with dry leaves.
Written for Friday Fictioneers hosted by the awesome Rochelle where we’re challenged to write flash fiction, an entire story with beginning, middle and end in 100 words or less.
Click to read more flash fiction.