Posted in flash fiction

Hometown Hero

Joe showed up drunk, still clutching a fifth to his chest.

Hattie wrinkled her nose.

“The great hometown hero.”

Sam wore an unholy combination of rotten fish and garbage for cologne. 

“It’s been a long night.” 

“What did you guys do?”

“Oh, just me. I don’t know where he’s been.”

Hattie refused to see this get away.

“Help me get him up. We’re heroes and I’m not going to let our group get embarrassed like ths.”

“I’ve been up all night fighting crime.”

“Ok.” Hattie tossed the rope into his waiting hands. “We’ve got tug o’ war to win.”

Word Count: 99
For Carrot Ranch Micro Fiction challenge


This virus thing has been a little bit crazy. I hope everyone is coping with the upended routines and staying safe and healthy!

Posted in flash fiction

The Shape of Love

The shape of love is a funny thing.

Sometimes it’s car doors and raised voices or explosive seconds dragging into minutes. 

It can be square like steps paced around the room or the set of your shoulders backlit by old headlights.

Sometimes it’s a circle, the ember at the end of your cigarette glowing a steady red. 

It can scatter, dandelion seeds escaping on the wind.

Sometimes it’s no shape at all, a blur existing only in our inner eye, a memory we try to understand.

Sometimes it’s long with strides at a gallop as it slides away.

It can fade, short days into the longest nights and remerge, clouds parting for light.

Sometimes it’s grainy, dirt under your nails and a mouth full of mud, or sinister like a pistol at your back. 

It can be oblong, a pill too big to swallow, or slow flowing murky water. 

I’m not sure the shape of this love but it hurts nonetheless.

Photo courtesy of Pixabay

For Sunday Photo Fiction

Posted in flash fiction, friday fictioneers

“Destiny”

“True love is destiny.”

Juli had no time for old fashioned nonsense. Maybe “destiny” helped her grandmother but that was before the digital age. Everything was different now. 

Juli’s Romeo appeared in the background of a viral video. The moment he smiled, she knew. 

She scoured the internet, hoping to give “destiny” a helping hand. The research was painstaking but every bit was worth it.

He worked in front of his open window nightly, 9 PM sharp. The fountain, he penned, gave him endless inspiration.

Juli sat on its marbled edge, waiting. Any moment now, he would realize his “destiny”.

PHOTO PROMPT © Ceayr

Word Count: 100
For Friday Fictioneers!

Posted in flash fiction, friday fictioneers

Rules Meant to Break

“Time travel works like a ride, all about momentum. We set the chosen time as your center point, you see that perfectly. Everything towards the edges …”

The tech shrugged but George was unconcerned.

“Remember the rules, no touchy, no changey, don’t slow down.”

With that George was off, whipping through time and space. His childhood home came into view. He could see his father, hands around the neck of the only man George ever loved.

He had done the math. George knew just how much he could afford to slow and, after all, rules were meant to be broken.

PHOTO PROMPT © Dawn Miller

Word Count: 100
For Friday Fictioneers (on a Wednesday!)

Posted in flash fiction

Evanescent History

I am 100% sure they do this on purpose.

FOWC: History, RDP: Evanescent

How funny it is that these words seem so different yet so intertwined. 

I’ve been posting less lately but, for once, it’s not bad news. I want to focus this year on publishing. While I’ve been writing, I’ve been more reserved with what I post on the blog. I’ve been revisiting old pieces and working on them more also. If anyone has tips for publishing on amazon let me know! 

Darlene, in all her 108 years, didn’t think she had ever seen anything like it.

There were rockets to the moon, scandals and those who said all of it was fake.

There were plenty of misunderstandings, plenty of things faded from memory only to reappear in the strangest of ways. 

Isn’t history funny?

Now she watched the news slip in and out of existence on continuous feeds. Omnipresent, it seemed, but always fading.

Between videos of freaked out, tear-stained faces and breaking news bulletins Darlene’s memory hummed to life. She remembered this. Before TV, a man and radio, dramatizing a Martian landing. 

A few articles exposing the truth slid away as quickly as they came, but still, hysteria ensued.

Posted in flash fiction, friday fictioneers

Escalator To Heaven

“Excuse me.” The hollow sound of my voice is surprising. Brilliantly glowing arches of gold should echo, giving life to the thin words. 

Robed figures slowly ascend the clunky escalator, seemingly unaware I spoke at all.

I can feel the anger pulsing in my temple.

“There should be a golden stairway!” 

All these years I slaved over designing a breathtaking entrance only to have the project overtaken by last-second grand ideas.

‘Make it worth the journey to see that pearly gate.’ Of course, you don’t say no to the divine. 

“Really sorry Jared. It’s a more economical choice.”

Word Count: 99
For Friday Fictioneers
PHOTO PROMPT © Ulrika Undén

Posted in flash fiction

Moscow Mule

“Get me a Dublin Donkey!” 

“It’s Moscow Mule you dumbass!”

“Amaretto Ass!” 

Lara crouched behind the bar searching for notes on how to live a better life. She was tired of night after night of red-faced, smoked laced patrons. She was tired of having her ass pinched and her tips written out as “meet me in my room”. 

She tried side jobs, formal interviews, even a stint as a bartender at a more prestigious joint. It never worked.

Lara was made to sling cheap booze in sticky holes in the wall. She was born to salvage societal trash, even if it was with alcohol. 

She dreamed of turning them into something more. She longed to fix the broken things.

A pair of hazel eyes peered over the bar, down Lara’s shirt. 

“Hey gorgeous …” Slurred words morphed into exotic sounds, like waves on an island or the calls of southern birds. “The wife left me. Be a doll and make me something strong.”

Those eyes, brimming with tears, brightened when Lara returned his gaze. 

Her heart lightened. A new project. Broken but not shattered. Hopeful. 

“Meet me in my room.” She scribbled on a stained napkin. “I can fix you up.”

Word Count: 200
For Sunday Photo Fiction
Photo Credit: Morguefile

Posted in flash fiction

Pen and Paper

As long as I don’t move I pretend no one can see me. I’m a statue, gathering snow. Birds traipse across my table, eyeing my lone piece of banana bread. They examine then flit off to inform their friends. 

It won’t be long before they descend, all for too sweet artificially flavored bread. 

My pen stares stoically at my notebook. It needs to bleed. It needs release. 

My notebook is having none of it, a lovers quarrel I’m sure. It remains steadfastly shut against the longing notes my pen wishes to deposit. 

Quiet conversations erupt into laughter. Engines spurn to life. A world of constant din and none of it can be composed until the notebook forgives the pen. 

I force them together, apologies be damned, but the pens strike is fatal; leaving an ink lined hole where a word should be.

I try again, gently this time. The paper shreds beneath the pen’s flow. Total refusal to cooperate. Ink won’t flow over paper, not while they’re not speaking this way.

All the world’s deadlines building unending pressure. Surely that’s enough to squash any relationship but pen and paper? I thought for sure they were stronger.

Word Count: 196
For Sunday Photo Fiction
Photo Credit Morguefile

Posted in flash fiction, Word Prompt

What Really Happened to the Dinosaurs

We came here on the backs of our ancestors greatest invention. The ability to cross among the paths of time has been an integral part of society but, as with any great discoveries, it was coveted.

Facing extinction we gathered our prized possessions, animals, science … and sent them across realms.

We would have returned for them sooner but …

George didn’t write down the coordinates of where he sent them.

Right, we would have returned sooner but … were unable to.

We believed our ideas, our species, our discoveries were safe. We believed there would be reprieve from a world too far gone. We’ve been driven nearly to extinction in the name of progress.

But this, this is not what our people left behind. Where are the animals? The science?

Maybe they ate it.

Perhaps they are far more advanced than we think? Did they somehow find the exact coordinates before we could recover them?

Hear me out. Maybe they are our science, our discoveries. We did save a number of cellular organisms. Perhaps they ‘evolved’. This proves their significance at least.

Significant? They are killing themselves. This is not what our ancestors wanted. A planet of intruders? No. 

Theus, you’re getting a little worked up.

Millenia of progress has been bastardized.

It rarely goes any other way. Perhaps this is for the best. Remember, change is the very essence of everything we know.

I’m going to blow it up. 

Theus …

The command has been activated. We can find another planet to maintain our civilization on.

RDP: Extinct
FOWC: rarely

Posted in flash fiction, Word Prompt

Permit for Hope

Every full moon we’re given permits. On occasion they’ve felt like rocks, weighing down our souls. Sometimes they function as population control. 

The abstract isn’t something we’re terribly familiar with but I remember what it’s like to feel. When I was first brought here sadness compounded fear. Anger settled in next. A long lost cousin staying despite what I insisted. 

They dangle these permits, inspiring us with lust and greed. 

What shall we receive?

The paper melts away in my hand but not before I can read. A permit for hope, emotion I no longer crave.

Ragtag Daily Prompt: Hope
Fandangos One Word Challenge: Permit