Flash Fiction – Page 4

Softie – FFfAW

Published on August 23, 2016August 26, 2016 by milliethom72 Comments

Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers is a writing challenge hosted by Priceless Joy. It asks that we write a piece of fiction from the given photo prompt in around 100-150 words – give or take 25 words. If you’d like to join in with this challenge, follow the above link to see what to do. The challenge runs from Tuesday to Tuesday every week.

Here is this week’s prompt, kindly provided by Louise at thestorytellersabode:

And this is my story:

Softie

Twelve-year-old Charlie braced himself against the biting February wind, scouring the beach as he walked. Dad would wallop him if he didn’t find any coal washed up on the morning’s tide. Mum needed whatever he fetched to supplement the spindly sticks they collected.

The shiny object suddenly caught Charlie’s eye, just nestling amongst the colourful pebbles.

‘You’ve found it!’ a girlish voice squealed as he picked it up. ‘Mum was heartbroken when she lost it yesterday. She’s had it for twenty years. See, the date she got it’s on the back: nineteen fourteen. And you found it…’

Charlie scrutinised the expensive-looking watch. Dad’d be pleased to have it to sell – but furious if he learnt Charlie’d just given it away.

‘Finders keepers,’ he retorted. ‘That makes it mine!’

The girl’s tears flowed and he thrust her the watch. Dad had always called him ‘Softie’…

Eighty-two-year-old Alice laid the flowers on Charlie’s grave, fingering her mother’s watch. Memories of the day she’d met her Softie were never too far away, and she’d meet him again, very soon.

Word Count: 176

If you’d like to read other entries, or add a story yourself, click on the little blue frog:

My story about collecting lumps of coal on the beach may seem far-fetched to many people, but that’s just what many poor families had to do in earlier times. I was basing the story on my dad’s early life in the seaside town of Southport in Lancashire (a very sandy beach, with sand dunes – and not the pebbly beach in Louise’s photo, which I’ll leave her to talk about). He was born in 1922, and times were hard.

The coal would mostly have been carried down in the rivers from the Lancashire coalfield and out into the Irish Sea. The incoming tide would then wash some of it up onto the beach – where poor families made good use of it.

How Charlie and Alice met in this story was not how my mum and dad (Millie and Thomas) met. At the time when my dad was collecting coal on the beach, my mum was happily growing up eighteen miles away, in Liverpool – until the heavy bombing of that city during WW2 took her to Southport. My home town.

*****

Plenty of Open Space – FFfAW

Published on July 29, 2016July 30, 2016 by milliethom47 Comments

Flash Fiction for for Aspiring Writers is a writing challenge hosted by Priceless Joy. It asks that we write a piece of fiction from the given photo prompt in around 100-150 words – give or take 25 words. . If you’d like to join in with this challenge, follow the above link to see what to do. The challenge runs from Tuesday to Tuesday every week.

Here is this week’s prompt, kindly provided by Louise at thestorytellersabode:

And this is my story:

Plenty of Open Space

Bernie could never have enjoyed a life of affluence on what they paid him as a gardener, and he’d wanted much more in life than working on some lord’s estate. Looking back, he could see he’d set his sights too high. Tending gardens had been a peaceful job after all, and the fresh air and open space had been good for the soul.

Temptation had just got the better of him and he’d fallen in with the wrong crowd. The robbery had cost him ten years of his life, as well as the girl he’d planned to marry. He’d been on his own after that all right, with no hope of any job after his release.

‘Gov’nor wants t’ see you,’ the prison officer had said, throwing back the cell door. ‘He’s an offer for you…’

Bernie hoed round the flower beds, his memories of his years ‘inside’ fading. He was gardener at the Gov’s big house now, with a regular income and plenty of open space.

But his girl had long since gone.

Word Count: 175

If you’d like to read other entries, or add a story yourself, click on the little blue frog:

Refuge – FFfAW

Published on July 21, 2016July 23, 2016 by milliethom41 Comments

Flash Fiction for for Aspiring Writers is a writing challenge hosted by Priceless Joy. It asks that we write a piece of fiction from the photo prompt provided in around 100-150 words – give or take 25 words. If you’d like to join in with this challenge, follow the link above to see what to do. The challenge runs from Tuesday to Tuesday every week.

This week’s prompt was kindly provided by T.J. Paris:

And this is my story:

Refuge

Sure-footed as a cat, Edana led the villagers up the craggy slope, the pale glow from her lantern their only light in the darkness. Homesteads smouldered across the valley below, the legacy of ravaging armies bound for the citadel. And once the sun coloured the eastern skies, the slaughter would continue.

But the chieftain’s daughter had vowed to keep her people safe…

Screened by a rockfall, the entrance to her secret cave beckoned. Tielenth had promised to withdraw to the maze of tunnels behind and would only appear if she called. Whilst he was Edana’s protector, her people would flee from his terrible presence. For Tielenth was the Lord of Fire and could scour them from the Earth with his fiery breath.

Edana drew comfort in knowing that, should she ask, the great dragon would not hesitate in taking flight and annihilating the savage foe.

As she entered the cave the draught from the swishing tail as it vanished into the tunnels extinguished the tiny lantern flame.

It would be a long, dark night.

Word Count: 174

If you’d like to read other entries, or add a story yourself, click on the little blue frog:

Flash Fiction Competition

Published on July 11, 2016 by milliethom22 Comments

I thought I’d just let everyone who writes flash fiction know about this competition I came across. It’s run by Print Express (a UK design blog covering print, web and mobile design).

Many of the WordPress challenges ask for a word limit of 150 words, so I thought this may be of interest, especially as the story can be one that has previously published anywhere, including on your blog. Or you could write something completely new – and submit more than one entry, should you wish. The winner will receive a £100 Amazon voucher.

I’ve copied the rules here and put a link to the page at the end for anyone interested:

– The story has to be family friendly
– It has to be your own work
– It can be no longer than 150 words
– By entering your story, you’re agreeing to allow us to publish it on our site
– By entering, you retain full copyright but give us a non exclusive license to publish it on our website
– It’s free to enter, and it’s open to all

The deadline for entries is July 31st, 2016 and the winner will be announced shortly after.

If interested, here’s the link to the site with the rules (as above) plus details of where to send your entry and answers to other people’s queries in the Comments section on the page:

http://design.printexpress.co.uk/the-print-express-flash-fiction-competition

This competition sounds like a good idea, especially as it’s free, and entries can be ones that have been previously published! What’s to lose – and there’s an Amazon voucher to gain for someone. 🙂

I hope to be back on my blog a little more as soon as my book A Dash of Flash is formatted and published on Amazon. Hopefully, I’ll get that done during the next week or so.

A Really Good Listener – Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers

Published on July 2, 2016July 3, 2016 by milliethom43 Comments

Flash Fiction for for Aspiring Writers is a writing challenge hosted by Priceless Joy. It asks us to write a piece of fiction from the photo prompt provided in around 100-150 words – give or take 25 words. It encourages us to comment, constructively, on other entries, so supporting each other’s writing. If you’d like to join in with this challenge, follow the above link to see what to do. The challenge runs from Tuesday to Tuesday every week.

This is the prompt, kindly provided by my daughter, Louise, at thestorytellersabode:

And this is my story:

A Really Good Listener

‘You know, Stanley, it’s no fun living with a man who takes me for granted and never listens to a word I say. He’s really selfish, when I think about it.’

Glum-faced, Melanie leaned against the gate beside her friend, considering how miserable she’d been since Jack moved into her flat. ‘He never wants to go anywhere, even at weekends, says he’s too tired after working all week. Cobblers to that! I work all week, too, and have all the housework to do. Jack doesn’t even help with that. He just sits in front of the telly, waiting for his meals. And don’t get me started about the washing up.’

Feeling more positive than she’d done for months, Melanie made to leave. ‘Thanks for being a good listener, Stanley. This little chat’s helped me make my mind up. Jack can pack his bags tonight.’

Stanley the Scarecrow watched Melanie stomp off down the lane. Yes, he was a good listener. He’d be a good talker, too, if someone had thought to give him a mouth.

Word Count: 175

If you’d like to read other entries, or add a story yourself, click on the little blue frog:

That Goddam Portal – Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers

Published on March 28, 2016March 28, 2016 by milliethom21 Comments

I must apologise for my late entry this week, PJ. (I’ve been very busy eating my Easter eggs. 😀 )

This is the prompt, kindly provided by Uday on his blog, Udayology.

. . . and this is my story:

That Goddam Portal

‘Two minutes, guys, and yer butts are through that goddam portal!’

Sam Blake surveyed his white-faced crew. ‘If y’ain’t quick enough, yer’ ll be left to face them mean critters following us.’

Billy Briggs, the newest and smallest crewman, glanced at his nodding mates: fifteen of them, all desperate to leave this hostile world. The thought of staying here was too terrible to contemplate.

‘Quit that pushin’ and a shovin’, Billy,’ Commander Blake hissed. ‘No one moves till I give the signal.’

The loud whistle sent the group hurtling for the circular doors. Unaccustomed to the procedure, Billy was thrust aside, only managing to stumble to the portal as it swung shut in his face. He turned, horror-struck at the words he heard:

‘Thought yer’d run off with them skiving kids, did yer m’ lad? There’s yer bedroom ter clean, and yer pa wants ‘is car washin’. Get back t’ yer chores . . . Now!’

Billy silently cursed. Next time, he’d be first through that goddam portal!

***

Word Count: 169

If you’d like to read other entries, or add a story yourself, click on the little blue frog:

A Hundred Year Wait – Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers

Published on February 12, 2016July 4, 2016 by milliethom89 Comments

This is the prompt, kindly provided by Ady . . .

. . . and this is my story:

A Hundred Year Wait

Light-headed and disoriented, Albert drifted through the park he’d once known so well, struggling to understand why he was here at all. The colourful bench confused him further, posturing shamelessly where the old one had once reigned. He’d sat here so often with his pretty young wife . . .

‘Don’t go!’ Mary begged, grasping his hand. ‘We’ll run away… go to Scotland. They’d never find us there!’ But they would have done, and he’d have been shot at dawn . . .

The shrill whistle pierced Alfred to the core. He clasped his bayoneted rifle, scrambling ‘over the top’ of the trench’s parapet into No Man’s Land below. Enemy shells exploded; a volley of machine gun fire rang out: men fell to the quagmire’s embrace.

Albert sank into the comforting mud, knowing he’d never see Mary again. The Somme Offensive had claimed him: July 1^st, 1916 . . .

A shadowy shape materialised on the bench. ‘Sit with me,’ Mary urged, beckoning. ‘I’ve waited a hundred years to see you, my love. I knew you’d return today.’

Word Count: 175

If you’d like to read other entries, or add a story yourself, click on the little blue frog:

Note about WW1:

July 28th, 2016 marks one hundred and two years since the start of the war that was once dubbed ‘the war to end all wars’. Unfortunately, too may wars since then has long since proven that to be false. In Britain, the war was originally known as ‘The Great War’, but is now variously called ‘The First World War’ or simply ‘World War One’ (or WW1).

War started in 1914, and word soon spread that it would ‘all be over by Christmas’. Such optimism was soon found to be erroneous: it lasted four long years.

The Battle of the Somme – also known as the Somme Offensive – was fought by British and French troups against the German Empire on either side of the River Somme, in France. It lasted from July 1st – November 18th, 1916, and was one of the longest battles of the First World War. More that a million men were wounded or killed. It has become known as one of the ‘bloodiest battles in human history’. On the first day alone, (July1st) 58, 786 British, 49,859 French and 103,000 German soldiers died.

There are too many aspests of trench warfare for me to talk about here – and this is not a post to explain why trenches were dug and used as they were. Anyone interested can easily look this up for themselves. All I can say is that I agree with Wikipedia’s estimation of it:

‘Trench warfare is associated with mass slaughter in appalling conditions‘.

No Man’s Land was the name given to the land between the trenches of the opposing forces. It soon became a desolate area: all trees and other vegetation were destroyed by the constant bombardment:

A French trench in NE France. Author: Bain News service. Public Domain.

The shell fire of both sides left the area riddled with craters which, after periods of heavy rain, became filled with water. The land came to resemble a quagmire – a stretch of thick, muddy land that resembled a bog:

Stretcher bearers at the Battle of Passchendale. August 1917. Author: John Warwick Brooke. Public Domain.

Another Harebrained Scheme – Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers

Published on February 3, 2016February 5, 2016 by milliethom85 Comments

It’s a while since I was on my blog, let alone participate in a flash fiction challenge, but I thought I’d have a rest from my own writing today.

This is the prompt, kindly provided by Priceless Joy. Image courtesy of Pixabay . . .

. . . and this is my story:

Another Harebrained Scheme

‘Just what do you intend to do with this old thing?’

Bert’s head surfaced from beneath the bonnet of the old pickup and he turned indignant eyes on his wife. After forty years he’d hoped she’d understand his love of old cars.

‘Well,’ he said, wiping oily hands on a piece of rag, ‘you know Ted’s old barn along Rookery Lane?’ Connie nodded. ‘I bought it with the money I made from selling our old tractor. Ted wasn’t asking much . . . been thinking of pulling it down anyway. And Jim down in Aldford let me have the pickup cheap.’

Connie gestured to the many farm buildings. ‘Haven’t we got enough barns here?’

‘Aye, reckon we have. But this one’s right close to town, where folks’ll have no bother finding it.’

‘What folks?’

‘Folks who like museums, love. I’m opening a museum for old automobiles.’

Connie rolled her eyes. ‘Another of your harebrained schemes! Who’s going to pay for more exhibits?’

Bert shrugged. ‘I’ll let you know when I’ve had another think.’

Word Count: 175

If you’d like to read other entries, or add a story yourself, click on the little blue frog:

They’re All The Rage – Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers

Published on December 17, 2015 by milliethom120 Comments

It’s been a couple of months since I participated in a flash fiction challenge, but this prompt brought two different stories to mind, so I decided to have a go at one of them. Unsurprisingly, this one has a historical slant.

This is the prompt, kindly provided by Priceless Joy. Image courtesy of Pixabay . . .

. . . and this is my story:

They’re All The Rage!

Lady Penelope withdrew her hand from the marmalade pot and gaped at the grinning sixteen-year-old across the breakfast table. Her husband, Lord Geoffrey Troughton, engrossed in reading the morning news, showed no signs of having heard their son’s request.

‘What on earth do you mean Archie?’ she demanded. ‘I’ve no idea what a ‘Penny Farthing’ is, let alone where to buy you one for Christmas.’

Archie let out an exasperated sigh. ‘Surely you’ve heard of them, Mother . . . everyone’s talking about them. They’re really quite the rage. All the chaps at school are getting them for Christmas, and I’d like one, too.’

Lord Troughton lowered his newspaper. ‘It’s another of those bicycle machines, my dear,’ he explained. ‘It has a large wheel at the front and the smaller one at the back, reminiscent of the different sized coins, the penny and the farthing. They’re remarkably fast, Archie – just right for the modern age . . .’

Penelope went back to eating her toast. She’d have no further say in the matter now.

Word Count: 175

Penny Farthing, invented 1880-82. Courtesy of Pixabay — Penny Farthing, invented 1880-82. Image courtesy of Pixabay

If you’d like to read other entries, or add a story yourself, click on the little blue frog:

A Piece of Flash and a Frog.

Published on November 1, 2015July 4, 2016 by milliethom31 Comments

This is a short story I wrote earlier this year, intending to post it for a flash fiction challenge (FFfAW) which had a duck pond as the prompt. In the end, I wrote a story about a witch and the ducking stool and posted that one instead. That story can be found here. I came across this story sitting in my Documents file today, and as I’ve (reluctantly) given up writing flash fiction for a while, I thought I might as well bring it out of hibernation. The picture is not the same prompt: this one is courtesy of Pixabay.

So here’s my story:

Frog Wisdom

Drusilla hovered over the edge of the pond, scanning the blue-green water. Around her, the greening leaves of forest trees rustled in the April breeze.

‘Where are you, Alfrin?’ she called. ‘I know you’re down there somewhere. I saw you shoot off when I asked you to lay the table.’

After a few moments, she heaved a sigh. ‘If you don’t show yourself this minute, I’ll send your father to fetch you. You can’t hide anywhere from him, you know.’

A tiny head bobbed up, right next to a lily pad on which a big, green frog squatted. ‘But Dad’s already here!’ Alfrin retorted. ‘He’s showing me how to play hide-and-seek with the tadpoles.’

Freda, the frog, nodded sagely. ‘Of which I heartily approve. Our children need to play.’

A larger head suddenly emerged. ‘Hello darling. The water’s lovely… just couldn’t resist…’

Drusilla flapped her wings, ready to rant, then paused. Alfrin was learning to socialise, after all.

Two water sprites in the family would try the patience of any self-respecting fairy.