Flash Fiction – Page 7

That’ll Teach ’Em – Friday Fictioneers

Published on April 17, 2015November 24, 2015 by milliethom86 Comments

Friday Fictioneers is a flash fiction challenge which asks us to write a story in no more than 100 words from the photo prompt kindly provided by the host, Rochelle Wisoff Fields. To join in with the challenge, or find out more about it, just follow the link to Rochelle’s blog.

Here is this week’s prompt . . .

fire-roger-bultot — Photo prompt © Roger Bultot

and this is my story . . .

Sammy grabbed his brother’s arm. ‘I can’t see the bedroom through all that smoke.’

Rick grinned. At nine, and a year older than Sammy, he was the one in charge. ‘The firemen just went into the house… They’ll probably find the candles.’

‘But they’ll know it was us if they do!’

Rick shrugged. ‘It’ll teach Mum not to send us to our room in future –‘

‘Rick! They’ve got two people on stretchers. Wonder who they are.’

‘Can’t tell. We’re moving further away all the time.’

Sammy reached out his arms and giggled. ‘These clouds feel really nice.’

Word Count: 98

If you’d like to read other entries, click on the little blue frog below:

Diary of John Henry – Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers

Published on April 16, 2015November 24, 2015 by milliethom42 Comments

Flash Fiction for for Aspiring Writers is a writing challenge, kindly hosted by Priceless Joy. The challenge 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 participants to comment, constructively, on other entries, so supporting each other’s writing. If you’d like to join in with this challenge, follow the link in the title of PJ’s, blog: Beautiful Words to see what to do. The challenge runs from Wednesday to Wednesday every week.

Here is this week’s prompt, courtesy of Pixabay.com . . .

. . . and this is my story (genre: historical fiction):

In the autumn of 1842, I secured passage on a sailing ship bound for the East Indies out of Southampton. My aim was to indulge my passion for sketching rare seabirds … and to forget the girl who had broken my heart. By the time we rounded the Cape, the abundance of seabirds raised me from my moping self-pity and I exulted in the daily filling of my sketchpad.

Three days from the Cape an angry storm swept in, whipping the sea into a frenzy. In earnest I prayed for our lives and, although we were blown considerably off course, our ship survived unscathed. A heavy mist the following morning dissipated to reveal a small, green-swathed isle portside. I was delighted when the captain ordered his crew to make for the shore.

Albatross Isle has been my home these past thirty years. I found great peace amongst the islanders … and a loving wife who has borne me four sturdy children. I have many sketches of seabirds that soar in the vast blue expanse above.

Word Count: 175

I’ve been concentrating on writing my book a lot this week, and I can’t seem to get my head out of historical fiction. I’ve also allowed myself to go to the word limit of 175, when I’m normally quite strict with myself and keep to 150. I just found I needed a few more words to tell this story.

If you’d like to view other entries, click here.

Take My Hand – Friday Fictioneers

Published on April 10, 2015November 24, 2015 by milliethom82 Comments

Friday Fictioneers is a flash fiction challenge which asks that we write a story in no more than 100 words from the photo prompt kindly provided by the host, Rochelle Wisoff Fields. To join in with the challenge, or find out more about it, just follow the link on the challenge title above.

Here is this week’s prompt, copyright Jennifer Pendergast . . .

and this is my story . . .

‘Take my hand,’ you say. ‘Come with me on a journey to the stars. We could reach the ends of the Universe, you and I; wonder at things hitherto unseen. No boundaries to hold us back.’

I smile up at your handsome face; the fire that burns in your eyes. You want me, it’s clear, though you hardly know me at all.

You reach out your hand, unfurl your fingers in a gesture of love. I recoil from the small white package so tenderly cradled mere moments ago. I shake my head and turn away from your proffered hand.

Word Count: 99

If you’d like to read other entries, click on the little blue fellow below:

The Rockery – Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers

Published on April 9, 2015November 24, 2015 by milliethom31 Comments

Here is this week’s prompt, kindly provided by Dawn M. Miller . . .

and this is my story for this week . . .

‘You’d be better off selling this old place,’ David said, twisting to face his mother on the veranda. ‘You can’t cope with this big house now that Dad’s gone …’

Mildred was pleased her son didn’t pursue the matter of his father’s leaving. She’d known about Ralph’s affair with Doris for months and was glad to see the back of him.

‘And that huge garden … I know you said Dad built that rockery, but it’s a great eyesore and needs shifting. You can’t do that on your own.’

‘The rockery holds fond memories of your father, David, and I wouldn’t dream of shifting it. If I change my mind, my new handyman, Eric, can deal with it.’

Mildred sipped her tea, willing David to go home. Tonight Eric would join her for drinks in the garden. She’d raise her wine glass to the rockery, silently wishing her husband a peaceful night’s rest, before embarking on a bit of rough and tumble between the sheets with Eric.

Word Count: 166

If you’d like to read other entries, click here.

Salesman’s Talk – Friday Fictioneers

Published on April 3, 2015November 24, 2015 by milliethom51 Comments

Here is this week’s prompt . . .

and this is my story . . .

The greasy owner from the off-licence below gestured round the dingy flat. ‘Bargain at fifty quid a week: nice and compact. Good-sized bedroom too … for a lad your age,’ he added, winking.

I wasn’t convinced, but needed my own pad; my parents were driving me insane.

‘Meter for lecky and gas … fully furnished,’ he enthused, as I stared at the boarded-up door.

‘Ah, we don’t use that door. Last tenant fell right out. Drunken fool killed himself. His ghost pops round occasionally.’

I smiled at his silly grin. The idea of ghost-hunting parties and séances clinched the deal.

Word Count: 99

If you’d like to read other entries, click on the little blue fellow below:

The Best Clown Ever – Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers

Published on April 1, 2015November 24, 2015 by milliethom34 Comments

Here is this week’s prompt . . .

. . . and this is my story:

Marvin stared at the mirror, considering his hollow cheeks, the deep lines about his sunken eyes. Gambling had brought him to this: a sad excuse for a man.

Jobless and penniless, scorned by his long-suffering wife, Marvin had taken the only job to come along. The Circus had come to town.

‘On in twenty, Marv, after the sea lions,’ the stable lad called, rapping at the caravan door.

Marvin applied foundation to brighten his skin, topped by vivid lines of coloured paint and a red horn nose. His ginger wig, chequered suit and oversized shoes completed the look.

His act had the audience enthralled. He juggled and cavorted and honked his big red nose. He laughed and applauded as much as they …

As he left the Big Top, a woman and two small boys stepped into his path. ‘I’m proud of you, Marvin,’ Susan said. ‘You make the best clown ever.’

Rivulets of tears streaked Marvin’s carefully painted face. But then he smiled.

‘Yes, I do, don’t I?’

If you’d like to view other entries, click here.

A Good Darned Flag – Monday’s Finish the Story

Published on March 31, 2015November 25, 2015 by milliethom42 Comments

It’s time for Monday’s Finish the Story again. This is a flash fiction challenge which asks that we write a story in 150 words from the picture and first line prompt, kindly provided by the host, Barbara W. Beacham.

Here is this week’s photo . . .

. . . and here is my story, including the first line prompt:

‘Pizza anyone?’ the dark-headed waiter asked.

Chris glowered at the man, noting the name-tag on his jacket with the name ‘Fabio’ written on it. He was still piqued that Jane had booked the meal without consulting him. Their first anniversary, for Pete’s sake – and she knew he never ate pizza!

‘Menu and wine list…?’ Fabio continued, evidently puzzled by his hostile response.

‘Pizza … pizza… pasta …. I don’t eat any of these,’ Chris snapped. ‘Everything’s got meat in it. And I hate pasta!’

‘Ah, no meat …’ Fabio’s face crinkled in thought. ‘We can make vegetarian pasta … or pizza with mushrooms … or olives. Margherita pizza perhaps: sizzling white Mozzarella cheese, sweet red tomatoes, garnished with bright green bay leaves.’ He kissed his fingers and flicked them out. ‘The colours of Italia’s flag …’

Chris washed down his last mouthful with a swig of Chianti. ‘Best darned flag I’ve ever eaten.’

Word Count: 150

I wrote this story with my husband in mind. He’s a vegetarian – and a very faddy one. He won’t eat rice or pasta dishes and would never touch pizza until we had a holiday in Sorento. Not liking Italian food at all, he tended to eat Margherita pizza at least once every day. He certainly didn’t love it, and has rarely eaten it since.

If you’d like to read other entries, click here.

Don’t Pluck My Heartstrings – Friday Fictioneers

Published on March 27, 2015November 24, 2015 by milliethom62 Comments

Here is this week’s prompt, copyright David Stewart . . .

and this is my story . . .

The lights of the bandstand glow against the darkening sky, lively tones of the violins dancing on the evening air. The merry tune is well suited to the May Day mood. I gaze at my husband, so focused on his playing he will not see me …

In truth, James rarely does see me, for he’s a violinist of perfection and married to his music. But, after three years of loneliness, my musical appreciation has waned.

Tones of the violins soar as I turn away. The note on the kitchen table will not pluck too fiercely at James’ heartstrings.

Word Count: 99

If you’d like to read other entries, click on the little blue fellow below:

One Whole Year – Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers

Published on March 26, 2015December 10, 2015 by milliethom60 Comments

Here is this week’s prompt . . .

. . . and this is my story:

I cannot see you, but I know you are there, your lovely face hidden by the flimsy curtainsacross the second floor window. The heat of your stare sears through … and right to my heart.

Last time we met I could not speak for grief. You called to me as I walked through the cemetery gates. Now you don’t answer my calls; my letters return unread. So I must come to you …

I press the bell for Apartment 3b and focus on my worn leather shoes, wondering what you will say.

The door swings back and you are in my arms.

‘A whole year, Dad?’ you say, stepping back to scrutinise my dishevelled appearance. ‘Where have you been?’

I shake my head. ‘Couldn’t face the world without your mother …’

My daughter’s smile is full of understanding. ‘We’ll visit Mum’s grave together from now on, if you like.’

Word Count: 150

If you’d like to view other entries, click here.

Teamwork – Monday’s Finish the Story

Published on March 24, 2015November 24, 2015 by milliethom47 Comments

Here is this week’s photo . . .

. . . and this is my story, including the first line prompt:

When the team heard the dam explode, they knew they had limited time to make it to safety.

Dave made the split-second decision that offered his team the only hope of survival. Ahead lay the series of rapids they’d been preparing to negotiate: too late now to escape the river’s fast-flowing pull. Behind them the raging dam waters neared.

‘Blades down!’ he yelled from the helm, thrusting his paddle into the billowing foam. ‘We’re in this together, so control this baby!’

The raft plunged over the dip … straight into the clutches of violent eddies that sent them spinning into jagged rocks. The raft tilted perilously and water swamped the craft. Two men momentarily disappeared, only practised survival skills preventing them from being swept into the suds.

They hit the pool mere yards from the bank as the deafening roar reached the dip.

‘Swim for it!’ Dave yelled.

‘Great teamwork, guys,’ Greg hollered down as they scrambled up the bank. Sound effects OK? River rescue practice tomorrow …’

Word count: 150

To view other entries, click here.