Filed under: All Writing Challenges | Tags: Flash Fiction, Friday Fictioneers, Madison Woods
The writing on the note was plain, a jumble of capitals and lower case. The paper was perforated, a jumble of lines and holes. The ink was smeared. And I read the words of a liar. I tried correlating them to experiences and memories without success. Staring at the truncated crossings of letters t and f, the open loops of letters g and p, I noticed the haste in the letters I, I, I, the fear I would interrupt him in the gaunt y, o, u. In my search for shreds of content, meaning disintegrated into picked bones on stone.
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Filed under: All Writing Challenges | Tags: Flash Fiction, Friday Fictioneers, Holiday Story, Madison Woods
Choose firm, earthy-colored mushrooms. Discard those with spots or slimy gills. Brown everything in sizzling butter: floured chicken, pearl onions, mushrooms, some carrots, much garlic with a pinch of thyme. Be rash, use high heat to sear these flavors. My recipe departs from the traditional one—here—when everything caramelizes, gets crusty, pour wine in the pot. Submerge everything in wine. Add more. Open another bottle. Forget chicken stock; forget hoarding mushrooms until the last fifteen minutes of cooking; forget it all while there’s time to grab another romp through the woods. Let everything simmer while you stoke appetites.
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Filed under: All Writing Challenges | Tags: Flash Fiction, Friday Fictioneers, Madison Woods
My purse is on the chair, the cat is under the bed, the dog is on the couch, the stash of money is in the pot in the cupboard above the stove, the cell phone is charged on the bedside table. Oh, what am I forgetting? Car keys—make sure they’re in the purse. Phone numbers, yes, we’ll need those in case we lose our way, addresses and the GPS. Oh, food, food, food. I’ll grab chips. Water, we have milk. In case that is not the sun: An axe, do you think we’ll need an axe? Or a gun?
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Filed under: All Writing Challenges | Tags: Flash Fiction, Friday Fictioneers, Holiday Story, Madison Woods
What’s up?
The sky. That’s a silly joke, get it?
My mom tells me I’m unique. Different than Jerry. He’s my exact twin brother. I don’t know if that’s a joke. I don’t see it. We are both left-handed. We look alike but I’ve something more—a special mole on my nostril. Mom says an angel forgot to wipe off his kiss. And then she kisses me on the same spot and tries to wipe it away.
Today I told her. This time she made me sad. I don’t want to be a dishwasher. I want to be a conductor. Like Jerry does.
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Filed under: All Writing Challenges | Tags: Flash Fiction, Friday Fictioneers, Holiday Story, Madison Woods
They became insane: Worse than any flood, they felt the anguish of an undeserved war. Worse than any fire, it never ended. Caught by hate, they nursed thoughts of revenge in paraplegic bodies.
They numbered few pleasures: When winds raged, they rent limbs. Satisfied with earthquakes and hurricanes, they blessed a fallen neighbor’s shower of bricks. The hole, another scar, left.
Without mouths, without ears or eyes, they understood our ruthless narcissism. Breathless, they fought back. In unison.
Their combat methods improved, unnoticed as a firmly pressed mouth: Soldiers in an outdated army, they dropped tiny acorns, bombs of mutation.
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Filed under: All Writing Challenges | Tags: Flash Fiction, Friday Fictioneers, Holiday Story, Madison Woods
Georgia’s favorite part about love was the freedom it gave her to be sentimental. That says it all, doesn’t it? She dredged old memories, mining them for romance. Georgia even asked a farmer to bring ugly trees to market. Every Christmas, she rushed to his stall where he twirled each pathetic specimen for her serious consideration.
So, there it stood, a fussed over weakling, the symbol of another tree found on an adventure trespassing between cow patties. Always a bald, scrawny thing, the tree never helped me recapture romance. What did an eyesore have to do with my sweet love?
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Filed under: All Writing Challenges | Tags: 100-words #Flash Friday, Flash Fiction, Madison Woods
He was a weasel. My boyfriend. He slithered whenever I wanted to talk. I asked for help with the dishes—he left with a grin and something important to do. Things were so bad, I pondered a Dear Weasel letter. But, he’d see me through another fit before sidling, a fistful of hair left behind.
The coarse brown hair reminded me of something. I found a riding stable, rented a horse, followed a trail, and plucked a long tail. The weasel hair, the horse hair and one piece of bamboo made the perfect calligraphy brush. The ink was my ire.
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Filed under: All Writing Challenges | Tags: 100-words #Flash Friday, Flash Fiction, Madison Woods
Jay began her hike. The terrain was rough, littered with refuse. Too patient to complain, she slogged through the heat, one foot in front of another. The soles of her feet itched as if she walked through battery acid, a possibility.
She held a stick. Down it went to the ground, a percussive strike before her light footfalls disturbed the silence. The long hike took aeons. On her trail, tiny parasites poked out of small holes in the ground: fragile, greedy life.
Jay paused her hike, slept while the small plants consumed. She woke, slightly refreshed, to grab her stick.
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Filed under: All Writing Challenges | Tags: 100-words #Flash Friday, Flash Fiction, Madison Woods
Empty—his thoughts worn out empty blather, he whistled flashes of songs. Old stuff. James rolled over in bed, knocked the glass on the floor. The amber liquid leaked through the wide floor boards. He felt his rib cage constrict his heart. James began to panic. Familiar with the pressure, he rolled on his back, waited for the attack to dissipate.
Anxiety kept him in bed another day, except for occasional forays to the refrigerator. The dog. He threw on a robe, walked the dog through the shaggy winter wonderland hired to inspire him. Beauty failed him; inertia claimed him.
I’m late with this…couldn’t get my act together until I realized flash writing must precede NaNoWriMo goals.
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Filed under: All Writing Challenges | Tags: 100-words #Flash Friday, Flash Fiction, Madison Woods
Steve was the bold one; he hid an old stick of dynamite near the entrance to our clubhouse, our secret Keep Out Or Else. Later, I knew right where to hide the diamonds. Knew it like I knew the dusty path from Steve’s house to mine.
There’s a checkmark on my file, one that says I’ve paid twenty years to society. I wait, patient, drive home a year later. Jex Blake Road is gone—replaced with miles of suburban cul-de-sacs and empty look-alike homes. And, they destroyed the abandoned mine—made it a lake. Hope Steve leveled someone.
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Filed under: All Writing Challenges | Tags: 100-words #Flash Friday, Madison Woods
The artifact topped the shrine in his studio, one marble in a growing collection. The orb inspired him.
Jason adjusted his flame, reached for a stick of white glass. When the glass glowed, became transparent, runny, his free hand dipped in green water, searched for the slimy mold; its contact with molten glass produced the enticing smell of burnt cherry. Next, his creation rode the edge of the flame in constant revolution, maintaining its spherical perfection while a scatter of colored glass melted smooth. The following day, Jason sandblasted his creation with coarse grit—until it became one more copy.
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Robin Hawke 