flash fiction

My Gift

/ Dee / 63 Comments

It’s time for Friday Fictioneers again. Time to join the great group of writers who plot,edit, rewrite, tear out their hair, swear, lose sleep and patience all in an effort to get out 100 words for the challenge each week. Join us, we don’t bite – well, not all of us!

The photo prompt this week comes courtesy of Jennifer Pendegast.

Winding stairs

Genre: Literary Fiction

Word Count: 100

My Gift

I am still here, you did not destroy me.

 I fought my way out from beneath the horror of your overpowering ‘love’ into the light of normality and reason. I am not ashamed. I feel clean.

Not my fault, not my fault, not my fault, no shame.

I’m waiting for you. Waiting here at the top of the stairs; when I remove the bulb, you won’t see the wire you like so much,  tightly stretched across the top step.

Your fall to oblivion will be my gift to you.

And the gift of others, who never broke free of you.

A Fresh Start

/ Dee / 23 Comments

Friday 1st March, St David’s Day and time for more Friday Fictioneers. Thanks for the photo prompt this week go to Beth Carter, and thanks for continuing to inspire the Friday Fictioneers go to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.

Genre: Literary Fiction

Word Count: 100 words

The Fresh Start

Photo - Beth Carter

Photo – Beth Carter

He looked out at the yard.

Not much stuff left now. Some cookery books, the unused  ‘zigzag action’ sewing machine, a red boudoir chair, some photo albums, a few shoes. All her castoffs.

He saw the red-haired woman again. She had walked passed a couple of times. Now she crossed the street and stood looking at the car. He had hated women, one woman, for too long.

He came outside, she smiled.

“Seems I’ve moved to an interesting neighbourhood, is the car in the sale too?”

He grinned, it wasn’t a sale, just a clear out.

He got the keys.

See other stories here

(Late entry this week. I tried to post last night, but for some reason I couldn’t load the photo and there’s never an intergeek around when you need one! So this is my Saturday Submission)

Still Living at Bankside Farm

/ Dee / 42 Comments

Another week, another photo prompt from Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for Friday Fictioneers. The photo this week is courtesy of Janet Webb and you can see how others have interpreted the prompt here

copyright-janet-webb

Still Living at Bankside Farm

“I did find it mum, it’s a ruin though. Look. I took a photo for you.”

She smiles up at me

“I’ve found your old home, it’s a ruin.”

She takes the photo and stares

“My room looks out over the bottom meadow, towards the mill.”

I sink down beside her, taking her hand

“Mum, remember. You live here now, not Bankside Farm. You haven’t lived there for years.”

She giggles then whispers,

“I saw Jed with the cows this morning, he blew me a kiss.”

My plan didn’t work.

I look up at the face I love, and smile.

 

( I am researching my family tree, and Bankside Farm was once home to some of my ancestors. It does look a bit like place in the photo now)

 

 

Remembering the Song

/ Dee / 40 Comments

Another week, another photo prompt from Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for Friday Fictioneers. This amazing photo is courtesy of David Stewart and you can see how others have interpreted the prompt here

Remembering the Song

Grey haired, quietly waiting,

I make no movements now for you to marvel at,

My joints seem permanently fixed,

Not flexible or free from pain.

Nothing could help me sway to your music now

Though I remember our song, few would think there ever was one,

Or believe that here there once was joy, pleasure, movement, grace.

They see a body, stiff, unyielding, closed, and think that it was always so

And that my mind must be the same.

They raise their voices and wave their arms about

I’m not yet deaf or dumb, just old.

I scream in silence.

Flying Away

/ Dee / 29 Comments

Friday Fictioneers, it’s story time again. Each week Rochelle Wisoff-Fields posts a photo prompt and anyone who would like to take part, posts a story on their blog and then links it to this week’s prompt. 100 words is the target so why not join in? The photo this week is courtesy of Rich Voza

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Flying Away

Genre: Crime (100 words)

The door closes. The plane hurtles down the runway, becoming airborne in seconds. I steal a look behind me, nothing but the blank, closed faces of strangers. I relax.

The plan to flee, to leave behind the life I’d endured, eventually filled my every waking minute. It became my solace, my relief from pain, my refuge.

When they find him, their investigations will reveal a violent, heavy drinker who has had one too many.

Unless they look too closely at the tattoo on his neck.

Would they do that?

Will they see the entry point of the air filled hypodermic?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Always and forever

/ Dee / 34 Comments

It’s Friday, well it is here in the UK, so it’s time for Friday Fictioneers. Each Wednesday Rochelle Wisoff-Fields posts a photo prompt and writers from all over the world drop everything ( almost) to write 100 words and post by Friday.  It’s a great way to meet some great people, so why not give it a try?. Here is the photo for this week, courtesy of Rennee Homan Heath.

Genre – Memoir (99 words)

Path to the beach

Blue skies, warm soft air, white sand,

The days of love and longing here

Long ago, crowd my mind and bring a smile.

We are older now and unable

To run up sand dunes, or lie together

As we did back then, lost in wonder.

We walk more slowly across the sand

Still hand in hand, lovers still but not

That hectic, frantic love driven by need and lust,

A gentle touch, a smile, an embrace now speak

Our love, we will remember always those first days

When we made our pledge, one to the other,

Always and forever.

Follow the link to other stories here

Lost years

/ Dee / 35 Comments

Here is the prompt for Friday Fictioneers this week from Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Genre: Memoir (100 words)

rochelle2

He should be here, you say with that trembling voice,

Will you ask him to hurry?

Why is he taking so long?

Years ago you voiced the accusations of your doubting mind

Out loud, deceit, faithlessness, disloyalty,

He had no chance to stay your ranting onslaught,

You were frighteningly ferocious, they say.

I was too young to know him,

Too young to understand the words I may have half heard before sleep,

You are too old now to realise that he can’t come back,

But I repeat again the soothing words

There there, don’t worry you will see him soon.

 To see more stories follow the link

Coffee Lovers

/ Dee / 26 Comments

Inspiration for Friday Fictioneers  from Rochelle Wisoff-Fields this week, is this photo by the artist Jean Hays. The lovely stained glass window is her work.

My sister had a coffee shop years ago, this photo made me think of it and the times I used to help out  – and people watch.

Photo Jean L Hays

Photo Jean L Hays

The smell of freshly roasted coffee wafts out into the street.

Jess sets out the freshly baked pastries, homemade chocolates, packs of ground coffee and waits.

First as usual, ‘Ms Skinny Latte with an Extra Shot’ and ‘Mr Double Espresso with a Cinnamon Bun’, (they’re getting closer). Then later, ‘Mrs Cappuccino’ and ‘Mrs No Coffee for Me’ who eats almond Danish like they are going out of fashion.

After the morning rush, she realises that two regulars were missing – ‘Mr Macchiato’ and ‘Mrs Flat White’…

Jess smiles, it was only a matter of time.

The Visitor

/ Dee / 16 Comments

copyright-scott-l-vannatter

Arthur senses he is being watched. He stands very still, tensing his muscles, ready for flight.

He stares straight ahead, waiting, watching.

She walks round the table, noticing all the clutter. What a mess. She remembers the tidy, spotless kitchen of her childhood, no mess or spills allowed. She remembers the cupboard under the stairs.

Dark, cold, silent.

Arthur tries a high-pitched meow but it gets no response.

She stares at the cat. She has always disliked cats. Now it doesn’t matter.

Now she can see him, but he can’t see her.

 

Thanks to Rochelle for continuing Friday Fictioneers and to Scott Vannatter for the photo this week

‘Tis the season to be jolly….

/ Dee / 30 Comments

I have managed to get my story in early for once. Thanks go to Rochelle for picking up the baton of Friday Fictioneers and to Rich Voza who supplied the photo prompt for this week. You can read more Friday Fictioneers if you follow this link

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I know my way around.

The door I need is at the end of the corridor.

I get a call whenever he’s in town, although he only ever wants to see me in the afternoon.  He is a nice guy and I am used to odd requests.

There is the usual glass of champagne and a beautifully wrapped gift waiting for me; the dress he has chosen is laid out across the back of the chair. I change quickly.

I drink my champagne, put his gift in my bag then walk through the doorway to ‘Santa’s Grotto’.