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Posted in flash fiction, friday fictioneers

The Road He Built

When the wrecking ball crashed into his childhood bedroom the crowd gasped. Dawes felt glee tinged with betrayal. 

He could practically hear his mom, “how could you?!”

It’s just a house. He reasoned her nonexistent voice away.

“But the land. Your father!”

Dawes found himself pulling up his bank account on his phone. One glance reminded him why.

Those zero’s are worth it.

The wrecking ball crashed through his family’s living room.

“You’re not MY son.” Years later it still stung but Dawes shrugged it off.

But I am his and he built this road. It’s always been his plan.

PHOTO PROMPT © Mikhael Sublett

Word Count: 100
For Friday Fictioneers

Posted in flash fiction, Word Prompt

Apparitions

When I’m stressed I don’t really sleep. It’s not that I don’t want to but I just can’t, not when I’m coiled like a rocket. One slight trigger, a breeze that feels a little malicious, and I’m off towards the stars.

My dreams, in an effort to help, mill around my room.

Bernie, my oldest apparition, is the most sensible of them all. He peaks in through my door and offers milk and cookies. He pads along the halls in a robe errantly open. He pats my arm in efforts to talk me down.

Reasonable is seldom what I want. 

Harry has a devilish grin and hair molded into flaming tufts. He’s the demon on my shoulder pushing me to indulge. He slips his fingers along my skin, careful not to scratch. He whispers in my ear, oh the things he says. But when I slip back to consciousness he’s never there.

Hilda is my warrior princess, my inner child gone sideways. She sits at the end of my bed, broad back and silken hair framed by her tri horned helmet. In a flagrant disregard for the boys, she tells me how she ransacked a town killing all the men and picking them apart piece by piece. It’s the same story every time but I wouldn’t dare remind her.

I’m going to write a story called “the great interrupted life”. It’s going to be a mom trying to say 1 sentence throughout and never finishing it.

Posted in flash fiction

Pie Noir

It was a dark and stormy night. He was disheveled and slammed my door, something I hated.

I couldn’t stay mad. He was cool, real cool.

“I need your help. My pie’s been stolen. I’m told you’re the one for the job.”

I nodded and scribbled over my notepad like I was taking notes. “Pie. Got it.”

“It was key lime.”

My mouth watered at the mention of key lime pie. I’d found one earlier that afternoon abandoned on a table outside my favorite coffee shop. 

“Will you help me?”

“Of course. But first, do you want some pie?”

Word Count: 99 per the rules
Word/Idea/Food: Key Lime Pie
For Carrot Ranch Flash Fiction challenge

Posted in flash fiction, friday fictioneers

Bus To Anywhere

PHOTO PROMPT © Fatima Fakier Deria

I think it’s my bus.

Then again, if you asked me whether the sky was blue, I’d say I wasn’t sure. 

The bus rattles to a stop. A never ending flow of people disembark through its doors.

Maybe it’s a clown bus. 

“Last call for boarding!” I’m not sure I heard a first call.

There’s no seats, only pillows spread over the floor. 

It looks nothing like buses should look.

This isn’t right. Where’s this bus going? It can’t be mine.

“Anywhere and nowhere kid. Sit back and enjoy the ride.”

I do as he says. Nothing makes sense anyway.


Word Count: 100
For Friday Fictioneers

Posted in Word Prompt

When Lightning Strikes

What an amazing coincidence.

That I’d be standing here when lightning struck. 

Sure, it stings a little at first but the results?

It turned me into a multifaceted shimmering disco ball of flame. 

I’m enchanted

I glow. 

I’m Glinda the good witch if she were slightly damaged

Which I think we could argue she was …

But I can’t concentrate on these things right now.

It’s getting hard to breathe.

And I’m coming apart at the seams.

Posted in flash fiction, Word Prompt

Green Milk

That over there is Henry.

Henry is currently neck deep in a bowl of lucky charms. I’m not sure if he’s sleeping. I’m not sure he’s even alive.

I’m not sure I care either way. 

I sweep back and forth, not really cleaning so much as biding my time. Any minute now these little monsters will rise with the bell, a fastidious cult. Once they’ve filed away into classrooms to be pumped full of information, whether it’s right or wrong, I can get on with my day. 

“Get a job at a prestigious private school.” They said. “It’ll be great money.”

Have I got news for them. 

“Think that spots clean enough Maude?” 

The principal is this little round man. He covers his smattering of graying hair with weird hats and always wears a cartoon tie. Today’s tie is Marvin the Martian.

And now he’s shuffling me to another corner of the cafeteria.

“Jimmy spilled his milk.”

He puts me to task cleaning up Jimmy’s failed science experiment. I swear there’s something unearthly in this milk. It’s green and doing a little jive. I’m no scientist but I’m pretty sure that’s not right. 

The bell rings summoning the demon spawn towards the halls. 

I watch them go with not one bit of regret but notice Henry, still head down in his lucky charms. I suppose I have some obligation. I poke him with the end of my broom. 

His head lolls over sending milk strangely tinted with green splattering over the floor. 

Shit, is Henry dead? I think he might be the richest kid at this school. That’s no good. 

As I’m sorting my alibi and evidence that I had no hand in this event, Henry opens his eyes. Jet black pupils take over leaving only thin edges of white. He throws his head back, emitting a punctuated screech. 

Huh. Well Henry’s not dead. I’m not sure what he is but I’m not sure I care.

Word Count: 327
Words from FOWC (Fandango’s One Word Challenge) – task – and Ragtag Daily Prompt – fastidious

Posted in flash fiction

Magnetic Freaks

It’s strange how things work between us. Like some weird magnetic freaks, we’re drawn to one another.

I’m not sure we ever had a choice. We’ve come together and apart more times than I can count.

It’s that connection that pulls me across the room, a cartoon scent hooking me and reeling me in. The atmosphere between us thickens. The sparks must be palpable. 

For a second our eyes lock and the buzz of conversation falls away. This is the moment, over and over again, prefacing every story we have. 

Reading my mind it seems, you pull me closer.

Word Count: 99
For Carrot Ranch flash fiction challenge

Posted in stream of consciousness

Ash

Is this what becomes of us?

Today freezing rain
Tomorrow a summer breeze

Wind blows along the stream
Rustling thickets
Driving rain

I exist at the funeral
But I float above
Searching
For the right combination
The moment you walked away

I try to redirect you
With empty threats
And promises of gold

As with most things
I fail

RDP: Ash