Posted in flash fiction

Ghost Hunting

Hattie almost missed the fraying brown clue blending into the brickwork.

Almost.

Matt would never let anyone miss it completely.

“It’s a clue!” He howled as he dropped to his belly and slithered towards the string. “Hattie. Hattie. Look. They were here.”

“I don’t see anything Matt.” He groaned and lifted the string between clenched knuckles.

“Right here. They were here.”

“Who?”

“The ghosts! Hattie! Did you forget what we were doing today?”

“I guess so Matt.”

“Ghosts. Ghost hunting. The email invite was clear.”

Hattie gazed at the sunset. Why were the cute ones always so weird?

Word Count: 98
For Friday Fictioneers (I’m getting better at this!)
Photo credit: © CEAyr

Posted in flash fiction

Jumper

“If your friends jumped off a bridge would you jump too?”

Well mom, looks like we know the answer.

In my defense, it was only 3 feet off the ground.

Surely I would’ve come to my senses before diving off anything higher.

You’re not amused. It’s ok, I get it. 

It wasn’t in your weekend plans to care for this ungrateful snot you call a daughter.

I hop to the window, wave to my friends and part of me wonders …

Would they believe you pushed me if I jumped again?

Word Count: 91
For Friday Fictioneers, serving up photo prompts, hot and with a side of crazy fries.

PHOTO PROMPT © Susan Eames

Posted in flash fiction

Fried Okra

“I was surprised you agreed to get BBQ with me.”

“Why? I know the importance of good BBQ. I am from here remember?”

“Debatable.” 

“Oh, fuck off, it is not.” 

He tossed a sugar packet in my direction.

“For your ‘unsweet’ tea.”

I stared out the window, wondering if things would ever be the same. 

“Seriously, what are you going to eat?”

“Well, I do love fried okra.”

“You’re going to eat fried okra? That’s it?”

“Sure.”

“I don’t think anyone likes okra that much.”

“Blasphemy. Fried okra is the best okra.”

Brief smiles.

Sighs.

“Why are you here?”

Word Count: 99
Returning to Friday Fictioneers , after forever, with an only dialogue piece.

PHOTO PROMPT – © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Posted in flash fiction

What A Shame

A small robed man prepared to dip into the lake. He gazed at his reflection, as if what lay just beneath the surface were the better judge of his sins. 

As I drew closer, his lover’s frock slung over his shoulders and stripped red from her blood seemed to assume a voice of its own.

No wonder the man crawled and cowered.

Tufts of grass, ripped from the dry dirt, were flung towards stoic blue stones slowly submerging beneath the hate he spewed. 

All because his lover requested he wash the dishes. How ashamed he must be.

Word Count: 97
For Friday Fictioneers

Posted in flash fiction

Pin Cushions Look Like Tomatoes

“That things a voodoo doll.”
Lori kneeled down beside her sister. 
“It is not.”
The duo peered into the room where Ms. Mack snored with her mouth agape towards the ceiling.
“Of course it is. Why do you think your stomach always hurts when we’re here?” Lori tapped the side of Jules head. “Think about it.”
“It’s a pin cushion you meathead.”
“No, a pin cushion looks like a tomato.” Lori nodded towards the coffee table where Ms. Mack’s sewing supplies spread over the edges and onto the floor. “Hers has little people on it. All the kids she watches.”

PHOTO PROMPT © Jean L. Hays

Word Count: 100
For
Friday Fictioneers

Posted in flash fiction

In The Name of Control

It is an act of happenstance that humans age. We were supposed to be the all supreme, controllers of our environment and all that means.

At least, that’s what this book says. Personally, I’ve never felt one bit in control of this life. Try telling your military commanders or your knuckleheaded children to just go with the flow. They laugh in your face and tell you to put your glasses back on so you can see reality. 

They’ll see one day. All these lies in the name of control will fall away. Someone will need glasses, it won’t be me.

PHOTO PROMPT © CEAyr

Word Count: 100
For Friday Fictioneers AND the RDP word of the day: happenstance
2 for 1!
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Posted in flash fiction

Voyeurs

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.

PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Word Count: 100
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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
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Posted in flash fiction

Day 339

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.

on-route-66-jean-l-hays

Word Count: 100
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Posted in flash fiction

No Business for Friends

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.”

PHOTO PROMPT © Sandra Crook

Word Count: 100
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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.