Posted in flash fiction

New Ventures

“Scotty has a new venture.” Dad peered over his paper, clearly reliving nightmares of Scotty’s entrepreneurial spirit. 

“Is it … What is it?” 

I was five when Scotty roped me into a lemonade business. It may have worked but he got the sugar mixed up with salt. His grilled cheese emporium went under after a rare virus ravaged most of his customers. Only the neighbors two dogs escaped but I’ve never been convinced they ate the discarded sandwiches. His t-shirt business never took off. We have t-shirts for days stashed in the garage.

All of this flashed through dad’s mind, I could read it on his face. 

“Honey, should we continue supporting these things? He’s insanely smart, he’s going to go far but …” Mom held her hand up silencing the criticism.

“Do you want to kill his spirit?”

As his snot nosed kid sister, I would call that an ok idea. 

Dad sighed and set his paper to the side. “Fine. Let’s go see.”

Scotty stood proudly in the street, a tugboat with fresh blue letters bleeding down the side sat behind him. 

“Son, you’ve never been on a boat. We don’t live anywhere near water.”

Photo courtesy of DB McNicol, author

Word Count: 197
For Sunday Photo Fiction

Posted in flash fiction, friday fictioneers

See No Evil

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.

PHOTO PROMPT © Roger Bultot

Word Count: 100
For Friday Fictioneer’s click the link to read more

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Posted in flash fiction, friday fictioneers

That’s What She Said

“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.”

PHOTO PROMPT © Dale Rogerson

Word Count: 100
For
Friday Fictioneers, to read more about the prompt and other stories click the link

Posted in flash fiction

War Paint

Lilli plopped two tubes of lipstick down in front of her mother.

“Red for strength and energy.” Her mom admired the purple tube and cherry red lipstick.

“Black to signal you’ve been here before.” At this her mother frowned.

“You know I don’t like you wearing black lipstick.” Lilli rolled her eyes and huffed.

“Mom, I really think black lipstick is the least of the problems here. Besides, you need war paint to show the cancer who’s boss.”

Lilli’s mom tucked the black tube into her pocket.

“I’ll just keep this with me … to show the cancer who’s boss.”

Word Count: 99
For the flash fiction challenge at Carrot Ranch

Posted in flash fiction, friday fictioneers

The Act of Pretending

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.

PHOTO PROMPT © Ted Strutz

Word Count: 97
For
Friday Fictioneers, click the link to read more.

Posted in flash fiction

Evidence

“Oh shit.” Mark disappeared below the railing.
“What?” Emmy strained to see beyond the trees.
“No, it’s Mrs. Smith!” Mark leaned between the columns. “She has her tongue down the pool boys throat again.”
Emmy handed the camera up to him. “We’re here to get evidence after all.”

48 words – 276 characters
For Twittering Tales

Click the link for rules and to read more

Posted in flash fiction, friday fictioneers

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

Posted in flash fiction

Game of Thrones

“So, what do you think?”

Martin surveyed the grotesque display in front of him. He didn’t want to risk angering his captor, “It’s an interesting chair.”

“Chair? Marty, my boy, look again. This is a throne.”

The man in full tuxedo and a plastic raincoat strutted around with a slight giggle on the tip of his tongue. “Do you know how many hands this took?”

“I …” Martin’s voice trembled.

His captor caressed Martin’s long fingers. “I’ve always admired yours. They’re the perfect centerpiece. The essential finishing touch, if you will.” His hacksaw rested on Martin’s wrist. “Shall we begin?”

Word Count: 99
For the 99 word challenge at Carrot Ranch.
Fact: This was inspired by Amelia Bedelia

Posted in flash fiction, friday fictioneers

Old Things

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.”

PHOTO PROMPT © Valerie J. Barrett

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

Posted in stream of consciousness, Word Prompt

In The Garden

Verdant – RDP word of the day
Music – Dirty Three – Self titled

Luscious.
Fertile.
Sasha’s garden was everything Mari could never inspire in her own. Her belly too, round with verdant life in a way Mari would never know.

Obsession.
Jealousy.
Rage in Mari’s veins blossomed as she feigned excitement for Sasha’s burgeoning life. Sasha’s roses brought home awards. Her daffodils sailed into a spotlight all their own. The baby kicked while she laughed on.

Inspired.
Alone.
Mari took to a rusted axe in order to get the job done.

I forgot to time myself but I intended to aim for 5 minutes to start. This probably took about that long.