Posts Tagged ‘flash fiction’

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Leo’s Escape

In Fiction on March 1, 2013 at 3:10 pm

A Home-made car

Leo’s Escape

“Gee, thanks…”

Leo had been asking his parents to buy him a car for months. Nothing fancy, of course—he didn’t need a Ferrari—just something to get around in. He’d begged and begged, ingratiating himself, playing the good son, doing humiliating chores, but all for nothing.

Or so he had thought, until his father unveiled what he surely believed to be a terrific joke: a homemade jalopy, with rusted doors, salvaged seats and a shifter made from the head of a piston.

But suddenly Leo saw the car for what it was and whispered with utter sincerity:

“Thank you.”



This is my quick response to the Friday Fictioneers prompt this week. Click the blue guy to check out the other great stories!

Happy weekend everyone!

Related: The Hideout // Silence // The Pebble

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The Hideout

In Fiction on February 21, 2013 at 9:56 pm

Old barn and white picket fence

The Hideout

“This is it?” Sam asked. “This is the hideout?”

The barn was slumped like a beggar, rotten planks buckled under creeping ivy. Tendrils choked the yard, climbing the bright white fence like swarming snakes.

“Isn’t it great?” Jake asked. “I’ve found loads of cool stuff: bottles, bones—even a knife.”

Jake started toward the back, where a hole gaped black and jagged in the side, and beckoned Sam to follow.

“Don’t you wonder, though?” Sam asked. Read the rest of this entry »

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The Pebble

In Fiction on February 16, 2013 at 12:33 pm

FF-DavidStewart

The Pebble

My house is in the south by a river, far from the DMZ. At night, the river reflects the moon and the walls seem bathed in water. When my grandson wakes me, which is most nights, he is like a mirage.

“Grampa,” he says, “I had a bad dream. I dreamed I turned into a rock and fell into the river and drowned.”

“I dreamed I was a pebble in your pocket. I dreamed you dropped me but you didn’t see.”

I roll to the wall and squeeze my eyes shut. Maybe if I move further south the dreams will stop. Read the rest of this entry »

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The Feeling of Falling Down

In Fiction on February 4, 2013 at 9:08 pm

Yellow wood, by yooperann on Flickr

The Feeling of Falling Down

“Sometimes I feel bad, man. I mean, this was a sleepy town before I showed up.”

Quinn popped a shell into the chamber and ran the action forward with a click.

“White churches, brick sidewalks—the foliage is beautiful, man. I mean, just look at it.”

“You don’t have to do this.”

Quinn gestured to the body under the tree—what had been a man—and shrugged.

“I already done it,” he said. “So it’s nothing to me. But you may be right.” Read the rest of this entry »

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Words For Things

In Fiction on February 1, 2013 at 9:29 pm

Sculpture-copyright-claire-fuller

Words For Things

In my earliest memories I am alone. I grew up without language, without names for the rocks and trees. Without a name for myself. I have never seen another human face.

Strange, then, this thing I have made…

I found the boat, and the tools and the books—that is how I learned the words—but I cannot say how it passed the seas, for there was no one to guide it.
Read the rest of this entry »

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Al In Wonderland

In Fiction on January 30, 2013 at 9:36 pm

Sunbathers in central park

Al In Wonderland

“What on earth are you reading for, Lou? The sun is shinin’, the birds are chirpin’ — the ladies are sunnin’ in their… scanties. Two-piece suits and everything, Lou. Lou?”

“Al, shut it! I’m readin’ here.” Lou flapped the pages at him.

“No need to get bent out of shape, Lou, I’m just worried you’re not enjoying yourself… what are you reading about, anyway, your period?”

Al laughed, but Lou didn’t look up from the book.

“Whatever,” Al muttered. “…sitting under that tree like some eighteenth century fop…” Read the rest of this entry »

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The Waiting Water

In Fiction on January 25, 2013 at 4:48 pm

Island ocean

The Waiting Water

As day wanes the ocean turns black. The brackish foam boils on the rocks. The sun sinks and its crimson rays leak from the horizon as from a wound.

There is something appalling about the sea. About its mystery. I believe it is evil.

My friends drink and laugh. They sunbathe. They sleep with each other and collect designer labels. They forget the waiting water. Read the rest of this entry »

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A Fitful Sleep

In Fiction on January 23, 2013 at 12:15 am

Purple sunrise in the Kaluts

A Fitful Sleep

The rising sun set the desert alight, like a torch touched to tall grass in a dry summer. Caro felt the hooves in the ground long before they sounded on the breeze.

“They’s comin’, Jess,” he said.

Jess had been having a fitful sleep, but at Caro’s call he stumbled from his bedroll and began to dress.

“Gon’ be a hot day,” he said as he buttoned his shirt. “Just as well they come.”

“How’s that, Jess?”

“Gon’ be a hot day and we ain’t got any water left.” Read the rest of this entry »

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For The Birds

In Fiction on January 18, 2013 at 12:09 pm

Empire State Pigeon (photo credit ZeroOne/ photo on Flickr)
(Photo credit: ZeroOne / Foter.com / CC BY-SA)

For The Birds

You can wheel through the sky and skewer the clouds, or you can spend your life low and leave your mark (if you know what I mean).

Just remember: It’ll eventually rain.

This is in response to this weeks Trifextra challenge in which you’re given a prompt and asked to write 33 words on it (the photo being the prompt this week). Read the rest of this entry »

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Idle Hands

In Fiction on January 14, 2013 at 10:26 pm

Playing cards on the pavement (Pinar del Rio, ...

Idle Hands

“Goddam kids are back, Harry.”

“I noticed…”

“Goddam kids are back and making trouble again, idle little turds. Where are the parents, eh? Don’t these kids have jobs no more?”

Harry sighed and glanced at his cards. The game just wasn’t the same without partners. He discarded a king.

Albert eyed him suspiciously.

“You leading me? I know you’ve got five more of those.”

Harry shrugged and Albert drew two.

Read the rest of this entry »