Posted in flash fiction

Salt

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.

PHOTO PROMPT © Susan Eames

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

Posted in flash fiction

Shelley Robotics

Will had built robots and explored AI since he was a boy. This new project presented new challenges but Will was ready to tackle them.

This one looked just like Sheila. Sometimes Will had to remind himself S2 was different. As she stood, unblinking, in the garage Will didn’t need reminding. 

Her arm fell to the floor with a soft thud. Will stared at the fleshy decomposing mass.

“Well, the robotic one is almost ready.”

S2 pulled her crumbling lips back like a scared dog baring teeth.

“We’ll work on that smile next. Sheila had the most beautiful smile.”

Copyright –Douglas M. MacIlroy

Frankenstein was first published in 1818. 

Word Count: 99

Thanks to Rochelle for hosting Friday Fictioneers as always.

Posted in flash fiction

Pinterest Dreams

PHOTO PROMPT © Nick Allen

“Six … I count six broken dreams …”
“Oh my god Jerry! They’re just watering cans! I’m gonna put flowers in them.” Zan thrust a faded can into her boyfriend’s hands. “Saw it on pinterest; such a great way to spend a Saturday.”
Jerry looked down at their toddler son. Last time Zan ‘saw it on pinterest’ the family had to dress as zoo animals for pictures. 
“This is what you do for love kiddo.” He whispered.
“Oh look! Here’s a yellow one!” Zan clasped her hands and gasped. “It has a bluebird!”
“Seven … I count seven …”

Word Count: 99

Many thanks to
Rochelle for hosting weekly Friday Fictioneers. Visit her page for more info about the challenge. Want more fictioneers? Click the blue froggy below.

Posted in flash fiction

Friday Fictioneers – Forgotten Dresses

Lanky and odd with gentle features, Johnny’s pa called him “sissy boy”. He served bloody noses and fat lips in hopes of toughening the boy up.

Johnny collected forgotten dresses from his older sister’s closet and hid them in the old shed. When he thought no one was peeking he slid their silken fabrics over his skin.

One night nosy Mary-Ann wouldn’t leave him alone.

He tried to escape his older sisters prying eyes but found himself cornered when she threw open the creaky shed door.

“You really should ask before borrowing clothes, that zipper is tricky, let me help.”

nathan-sowers-dawn-millers-friend
PHOTO PROMPT © Nathan Sowers grandson of our own Dawn M. Miller

Thank you to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for hosting Friday Fictioneers

Posted in flash fiction

Friday Fictioneers – Counting Lighters

This here’s a true story.

The moment I realized what rock bottom looked like as I barreled from above.

And tried to hit the brakes but just wasn’t strong enough.

I wasted drunken moments counting lighters scattered around, at least ten collected in my dead flower jar.

Then the music stopped and that moment of eerie silence …

Right before girls screaming and wild stampeding.

“There’s a boy on the bedroom floor. There’s a boy dying through that door.”

In my apartment.

High on my drugs.

Drunk on my liquor.

I wasted moments counting lighters … I spent seconds wishing on stars.

coffee-table-prior
PHOTO PROMPT © Yvette Prior

Word Count: 100

Many thanks as always to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.

I honestly do not know if this will work in 100 words, I like it but I also know it seems kind of abstract. 

Posted in flash fiction

Like A Barbie – Friday Fictioneers

“Do you think it’s fake?” Shanna focused on the neon green moving in the breeze.

Dena’s eyes focused beyond the grass on one Ms. Leroy. She was tall, blonde and, as their mom said, “100% plastic”.

“Like a barbie.” Dena whispered.

Shanna tilted her head while staring at the stiff blades. No matter how she turned, tilted or squinted the grass looked nothing like a barbie.

“I don’t see it.”

Dena grabbed at her non-existent chest.

“But don’t you see? One day I’ll have some just like that.”

“Are you sure?” Shanna never thought her sister liked plants all that much.

ronda-del-boccioPHOTO PROMPT © Ronda Del Boccio

Friday Fictioneers courtesy of Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Word Count: 100

Posted in flash fiction

Friday Fictioneers – Rays of Gold

Sometimes she sits on the gilded edge of the time before and the space after, watching people scurry below.

Ants unaware of their instinctual march, if they were to rip their eyes from the path would they see me?

Unaware of his mother’s harried calls a boy lets his toy train crash to the wooden floors. The glowing specter upon the golden spiral lights, reflecting and refracting shimmering beams, flickers then vanishes.

“Mommy did you see that?”

He points, though he’s suddenly unsure of the space where the dancing rays of gold once were.

His mother hurriedly leads him away.


dales-symphony-2PHOTO PROMPT © Dale Rogerson

Many thanks to Rochelle Wisoff Fields for wrangling Friday Fictioneers

Posted in flash fiction

Friday Fictioneers – Lips So Blue

I saw the sign. I heard her small voice say, “we should turn back.”

Jermaine, I chastised, always too sure of yourself.

The sky sure is blue from here. Small clouds, formed into puffs of slight dog fur, float by casting their shadows among the scattered glass.

If I could speak … a thousand things I know I should say.

An impromptu apology to my momma, for what I don’t know.

Maybe all the years of grief … maybe all the years to come.

Beside me her eyes stare like glass, reflecting rolling hills and jagged cliffs.

Her lips are so blue.

bjc3b6rn-9
PHOTO PROMPT © Björn Rudberg

Many thanks to the wonderful Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for rounding up Friday Fictioneers

 

 

Posted in flash fiction

Friday Fiction

When I was a little girl I pressed my nose against the glass of my dad’s old Volkswagen as we passed under bridges in the city. I puffed great smokey blasts of fog to draw little hearts and “hellos” in as the sleeping men tossed in their bags.

“Dad, why don’t we help them?”
“They have to help themselves first.”

There was a woman beneath the bridge today snapping pictures of our homeless communities. Preserving our tents and bags in rough black and white photos for exhibit.

“Don’t you want to help yourself?”

I hear they feed you in jail.

camera-ted-strutz
PHOTO PROMPT © Ted Strutz

And Friday Fictioneers courtesy of Rochelle Wisoff-Fields


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