friday fictioneers Archives

The Floozy

Posted on August 19, 2019 by Kelley Farrell

The floozy next door thought she was perfect. Mia could tell by the way she smiled and let out that noise she called a laugh. It was nauseating and often accompanied by a playful hand on your shoulder.

Today there was some kind of shindig. Her overly bleached hair was piled on her head. She pranced down her drive with a glass of red in hand.

Mia’s husband ventured, like a moth to a boozy flame. The floozy’s red nails slid over his shoulder as her laugh trilled through the air.

Mia grabbed the hose, “I’ll take care of this.”

Word Count: 100
For Friday Fictioneers (greatly inspired by Patsy of AbFab)

Things My Father Taught Me

Posted on August 2, 2019 by Kelley Farrell

My father was a gravedigger; taught me everything he knew.

Like that graves aren’t really six feet deep or that coffins and shrouded bodies require different things.

He taught me about the afterlife, murder and suicide. He taught me to wield a shovel whether I dig it in the ground or fight for my life. He taught me that those who feared death would be the first to die.

Mother never appreciated his gifts. “Unladylike.”

She never imagined I would own a yacht. I took her out to sea.

My father taught me a lot, like ignoring her screams.

Word Count: 99
For Friday Fictioneers – I know the picture isn’t a yacht.

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See No Evil

Posted on July 19, 2019July 19, 2019 by Kelley Farrell

This is the worst part.

Alfred looked unsuspecting, like he wouldn’t know a fly if it flew right into his ear, and he preferred to keep it that way.

The waiting.

Cops buzzed around the square. The sunrise illuminated their badges and reflected off their holstered guns.

“What about that guy?” A particularly robust cop jerked his thumb towards Alfred.

Shit.

“Him? Nah, he didn’t see anything.” Alfred’s boss leaned closer to the officer. “He’s slow.”

Alfred was grateful for the excuse. Tomorrow morning there would be enough cash hidden at the drop off point to cover him for months.

Word Count: 100
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That’s What She Said

Posted on July 12, 2019 by Kelley Farrell

“Why is it so big?”
“It’s a tribute to our robot overlords.”
Dan adjusted the stainless steel colander on his head. A walkie talkie clipped to his buckle emitted a stream of white noise.
“Well it is impressive in size.” Leslie marked the boxes along her checklist.
“That’s what she said.”
“Oh, oh please don’t.”
“No, that is what she said.” Dan pointed to clouds dotting the horizon. For a split second Leslie could see a glint of something more than vapor in the sky. The white noise shrieked, spewed unintelligible words then fell silent. “They’re happy with my tribute.”

Word Count: 100
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The Act of Pretending

Posted on June 29, 2019June 29, 2019 by Kelley Farrell

The act of being everything I’m not has always been my go to defense mechanism.

Moving to a new school? I can give you best sharp witted class clown alive.

New job? I’ve always been dependable and I’m highly educated. They’ll never check the facts if you’re convincing enough.

New relationship? I mean who needs them really, but I’m the most debonair man you’ve ever met.

I go to every theatre audition but I’m never the guy they’re looking for.

Maybe it’s the stench, alcohol and unwashed skin can damper the ability to pull the audience in.

Word Count: 97
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Voyeurs

Posted on June 20, 2019June 20, 2019 by Kelley Farrell

We must all be voyeurs at heart but, surveying the waiting area, I see no one else people watching like me.

A middle aged woman scurries past carrying the group coffee haul.

A family of five desperately attempts to redirect the youngest before the situation descends to tears.

Then his eyes.

They meet mine across the noisy space. Maybe there’s a smirk dancing over his lips; caught in the act as we are.

Like tunnel vision, I see nothing else.

Someone pauses before me, an imprint on the outskirts of my mind.

I peer around the figure but he’s gone.

Word Count: 100
For Friday Fictioneers (on a Thursday!). Click the link for the rules and more flash fiction pieces.

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Old Things

Posted on June 15, 2019 by Kelley Farrell

Lydia hated the old things her father insisted on keeping.

“Who needs this stuff? Ancient teapots and spoons?”

Her father admonished the girls irreverence for the past.

“These belong to your ancestors; gifts from the Gods.”

“I don’t want them. Ever.” She shoved the old silver items away.

“The last person who disrespected the Gods met a terrible fate. These items are meant for you.”

Lydia rolled her eyes and glowered. She was much more in tune with the modern age.

She landed with a thud as her feet slipped from under her. “What was that?!”

“I told you.”

Word Count: 99
A try at Friday Fictioneers this week. Click the link to read more.

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Salt

Posted on May 29, 2019 by Kelley Farrell

Saoirse could smell the ocean salt clinging to his skin. She could still see the sunlight reflecting in his hazel eyes. This was where Julian belonged.

It hadn’t been good enough.

He had the ocean in his soul but around here the dark corners echoed of empty promises far louder.

She begged him. He answered their call anyway.

If I could go back, Saoirse wondered, when was the moment you decided?

His mother wiped her tears away.

“This is where he was happiest.”

Saoirse inhaled the ocean air and tilted the urn. They watched as the waves carried Julian away.

Word count: 100
For Friday Fictioneers (on a Wednesday!) Click the link for rules and more stories.

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Day 339

Posted on May 11, 2019 by Kelley Farrell

Sometimes I forget to breathe.
It’s not that I don’t want to.
The air is just so heavy now.
Like at the end of it all we only had sins left
And they’re trying to smother the few of us that remain into non-existence.
Of course I survived, heaven nor hell wanted me.
I wouldn’t have pushed the button if I’d have known …
I’m forgetting again.
Today I saw it.
Squat pale sandstone in the distance and figures bobbing in and out.
The lab notes said they have a way to go back,
If they’ll let me in.

Word Count: 100
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No Business for Friends

Posted on April 26, 2019 by Kelley Farrell

Words blurred in and out of Delia’s focus. She slammed the book into her lap and glared towards the younger woman bound by ropes in the backseat.

“See, this is our problem. You never shut up.”

The woman blinked as the statement hit her but the gag prevented her from responding.

“Even now I can just hear you whining.”

The woman stared towards the slouching fabric above her despondently.

“I thought we were friends.” Delia mocked. “You know you can’t have friends in this business.”

The woman sighed.

“Whatever. It doesn’t matter. Tomorrow I’ll pretend I never knew your name.”

Word Count: 100
For the always fascinating Friday Fictioneers, click the link and blue frog to read more.
I realize this is a beach and not a pier that you drop bodies off but you know … artistic liberties.