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, 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

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, friday fictioneers

The Road He Built

When the wrecking ball crashed into his childhood bedroom the crowd gasped. Dawes felt glee tinged with betrayal. 

He could practically hear his mom, “how could you?!”

It’s just a house. He reasoned her nonexistent voice away.

“But the land. Your father!”

Dawes found himself pulling up his bank account on his phone. One glance reminded him why.

Those zero’s are worth it.

The wrecking ball crashed through his family’s living room.

“You’re not MY son.” Years later it still stung but Dawes shrugged it off.

But I am his and he built this road. It’s always been his plan.

PHOTO PROMPT © Mikhael Sublett

Word Count: 100
For Friday Fictioneers

Posted in flash fiction, friday fictioneers

Save Me

I’m 45 years old and what have I done? Everything and nothing. 

Died. More times than I care to count. They always manage to bring me back to life.

But have I done what I truly want? 

Have I reaped the benefits of a wealthy childhood? Have I earned my parents coveted pride?

I don’t need to reach into the silence to hear an overwhelming “no!”. 

And here I am, sliding away on stolen booze in a ships cargo hold. 

I plan to be good and drunk by time they find me. Maybe this time they won’t save me.

PHOTO PROMPT © J Hardy Carroll

Word Count: 99
Joining back in with Friday Fictioneers

See also round 2 of this weeks prompt here

Posted in flash fiction, friday fictioneers

Lame

The briefcase and half empty glass of juice meant only one thing.
Julia tapped her papers against the glass table.
“Why do you always do this?” Robin dragged his fork through the syrup running over his pancakes.
“Why do I always do what?” 
“This.” Robin pointed at her briefcase with his dripping fork. 
“Go to work?”
“It’s lame. When I grow up I’m gonna be a dancer.”
Julia leaned down to the boy’s level where his blue eyes pierced her own.
“That sounds wonderful. I know you’ll do that but until then …” 
Julia lifted his backpack and ballet slippers.

PHOTO PROMPT © Fatima Fakier Deria

Word Count: 100
For the always wonderful
Friday Fictioneers

Posted in flash fiction, friday fictioneers

Possession

I imagine the breeze rustling the trinkets dangling above me. I even hear them in some distant space, clanking against each other ruefully. I can see them battling for space, a place to occupy my mind. 

I remember watching TV. Knights clashed their swords together for the attention of some distant maiden. Sunlight carves stark lines across my single mattress like the scales of a dragon’s belly.

I’m careful with this one possession. I lay still but not for long out of fear my waif body will destroy it.

I sink into the lines, willing the beast to devour me.

PHOTO PROMPT © J Hardy Carroll

Word Count: 100
For
Friday Fictioneers

Posted in flash fiction, friday fictioneers

Things My Father Taught Me

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.

PHOTO PROMPT © Ted Strutz

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

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

Buy Me a Coffee at ko-fi.com
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.