Categotry Archives: Flash Fiction 55
Jump
Click on picture to go to hub. Every day, a little further. Each time, a stretching up, a whoosh and a whrrr, as the world goes by. Dash to the mark, then place the foot just so. Take. Off. Launch into the stars. Reach for the heavens. Count breathlessly until gravity can endure no more. Only count the cost after the landing.
Jam Session
Click on picture to go to hub. Ready Betty, Big Deal, and Montana Crystal all forgot their drums again. Doesn’t matter. I’ve got plenty. Fifteen in a circle – mostly congas, other hand drums. Some idiot showed up with an electric piano. Like anyone will hear it over the noise. On a count of three…. The neighbors are going to complain tonight.
In Concert
Click on picture to go to hub. It isn’t just the music. It isn’t merely glamor. It’s more than flicking a Bic, screaming, or dancing in the aisles. It’s the community of souls connecting over a common feeling; a blood-pumping plunge into being a part, yet also apart, as if the audience and band could trade places with the strum of a cord.
In the Crucible
Click on picture to go to hub. “Dear Lord,” she prays, “I can not take much more.” She kneels, hands folded, tears glistening down her face to pool in ugly pain on a thin shirt. God wants to tell her he is tempering her, but she can’t hear him. She hasn’t been in the crucible long enough. He reaches for another trial, fans the flames, and watches.
“The Dragons Did it.”
Click on picture to go to hub. Smoke curling around the crispy remains of an eggplant, gold glinting from under a pile of Raven feathers, a quill shredded to PUNishing proportions, wry comments and toothy grins, who could be responsible? Clawed footprints and the whisk marks of wings. All fingers point the same direction. Fandango is running amok again. This was inspired by the comment left on last week’s FF55 – both my own and others.
The Eggplant is Missing
Click on picture to go to hub. The eggplant was perfect, a lovely purple the right size and shape. It’s fate awaited in the microwave. The camera was already set up, prepared to document it’s veggie demise. But where’s the star? in the freezer? In the cup board? In the trash? No where. It has vanished, disappearing without a trace. So far, no one has confessed.
Office Gossip
Click on picture to go to hub. “Did you hear about Johnson in Marketing?” “The handsome man who rides a motorcycle to work?” “That’s the one. He’s been fired.” “What? Oh no! How did it happen?” “He was almost caught in the copy room with his pants down.” “Pft! Almost doesn’t count.” “He left copies behind, if you know what I mean.”
Summer “Vacation.”
Click on picture to go to hub. Like working in a sauna, sweat rolls down her back. The fan on the computer is running so hard it’s developing a high-pitched whine. No air conditioning. Over 100F in the shade. Can’t stop. Three novels due or over due. Back aches, wrist aches, head is empty but can’t stop. Words. Words. Just a few more….
Piece of Candy
Click on picture to go to hub. “Ha-ha! The maid left another piece of chocolate. Quick! Eat it before The Boy finds out. If he knows about the chocolates, he’ll eat them all from now on. Can’t let him know the maid leaves them. Oh no! She was here while I was gone. He saw! No more chocolate for me.” – The Girl
Upon Waking Up With Cracked Ribs
Click on picture to go to hub. White sheets. White curtains. White walls. Hospitals are full of bland. Gene fingers the button to call the nurse. Where are his clothes? Should he take them? Then what, home to Dad? Not likely. Decisions overwhelm him. Can’t decide anything with a fuzzy head. Gene rolls over. Sleeps. Lets the Social Services lady have her way. I can’t get at the file where Suzie’s House is right now, but I can still write […]
Some Days in Stat’s Land
Click on picture to go to hub. Some days fall between the cracks. No one is interested in Henry VIII, or How to Set a Table, or Anna Nichole Smith’s Autopsy Photos. No one wants to read the latest Suzie, or answer some silly question. No one comes to visit. It’s hard, but I try not to take it personally.
Spoon
She took the spoon out of the sink full of dirty dishes. It was the same spoon she’d used to eat her cereal moments before. It was sitting in the bowl which she had placed on the top of the damp, dirty, disgusting pile. The very top. She gave it a long, thoughtful look, then put it in her mouth. Click on picture to go to hub.
