Category: Flash Fiction

The World Is My Oyster – Flash Fiction

The World Is My Oyster

Annie sat with her mother on the porch of the family home on Apple Pie Ridge.  Rocking gently in the same chair where her father sat every night.  He had passed on leaving Mama alone.
 
She had driven most of the day through the Shenandoah Valley to get to the house in Winchester, VA. Nestled in the heart of apple pie country, she knew what would be for dessert.  
 
“Mama, what are thinking?”, said Annie, breaking the silence.
 
“My darling, I know you are a career-driven Civil Rights lawyer”, she looked at her daughter with a slight frown, “but when are you going to stop crying for the bleeding hearts of the world and settle down?”
 
“Oh mama, please” Annie begged. “The whole world is my oyster.  No, I do not weep at the world – I am too busy sharpening my oyster knife.”


Copyright © 2021 Christine Bolton - Poetry for Healing
All Rights Reserved


Lisa from Tao Talk is hosting Prosery Monday at D'Vere Poets.
She has prompted us to write a piece of Flash Fiction or non-fiction
using this line:

"No, I do not weep at the world – I am too busy sharpening my oyster knife."

–Zora Neale Hurston, from “How Does it Feel to be Colored Me” in World Tomorrow (1928)


Image by David Mark from Pixabay 

The Journey – Flash Fiction

The Journey

The sky was grey and the rain continued falling in bottomless buckets.  

“Oh this is so dreary Mimi.  I can’t stand it anymore”, said Alison moving away from the window.

“I feel like I am stuck in this place forever”

She had been in New York for six months and was still searching for the right job and continued to struggle making new friends.

“Now child, what is your problem?’ asked Alison’s grandmother. “You’ve moped around this apartment all day”

“I am in a job I hate, and I swear, if I am left sitting at another Starbucks waiting to be stood up yet again, I will just scream.  What is the point?” she whined.

Mimi thought carefully.  “Crucial to finding the way is this: there is no beginning or end.  Alison, you just need to remember, it is the journey, not the destination.”

Copyright © 2021 Christine Bolton - Poetry for Healing
All Rights Reserved

Meal is hosting D’Verse Poets Prosery Monday and has prompted us with writing a piece of Flash Fiction of no kore than 144 words, excluding the title, using the line “Crucial to finding the way is this: there is no beginning or end” taken from Jo Harjo’s “A Map to the Next World.”

Image by Kevin Phillips from Pixabay 

Stranded – Flash Fiction

Stranded

Trisha wondered how long they’d been there.  Probably ages.

They were lost because, as usual, Andy refused to follow the map.  It’s much more adventurous, in his opinion, to follow the sun. 

“Oh God, you’re such an idiot” she mumbled under her breath.

He looked up and she thought he might have heard her. 

Hurriedly she said, pointing to the setting sun, “Thanks to you we haven’t a clue where we are and all we know is that west is that way.”  

“We still don’t have a phone signal either”.  Her voice quivering, scared of being on the ridge in the dark.  Angry at the wasted time while he stood pontificating the meaning of life quoting Rilke.

What was that quote?  “Only mouths are we. Who sings the distant heart which safely exists in the center of all things?”

Well, it certainly wasn’t Andy.

Copyright © 2021 Christine Bolton – Poetry for Healing All Rights Reserved

Sanaa is hosted Prosery Monday at D'Verse Poets tonight. She
has promted us to write a piece of Flash Fiction with no
more than 144 words using this line “Only mouths are we.
Who sings the distant heart which safely exists in the
center of all things? – from Rainer Maria Rilke, “Heartbeat.”

Image by StockSnap from Pixabay 

Dreams Are Free – Flash Fiction

Dreams Are Free

She sat quietly in the small space she’d discovered on the top floor of her uncle’s house.  A box room, probably meant for storage, but there was a chair, some old boxes of books and small window overlooking the lake.  

She was reflecting on recent events that had brought her here.  The hectic comings and goings of visitors had given her an excuse to disappear for a while.

Grateful for the solace of the tiny room, she let her mind wander wherever it chose to go.  A sudden knock on the door made her jump.

“Ella. Are you in there?”, said her cousin Joel.

She wondered how long before someone came looking.

“What are you doing?” He demanded.  “We need to talk”

She replied reluctantly, “Joel, if you are a dreamer, come on in.  If not, then you can just let me be. OK?”

Copyright © 2021 Christine Bolton – Poetry for Healing

All Rights Reserved

Lillian is hosting Prosery Monday at D'Verse Poets tonight and has
prompted us with the line "If you are a dreamer, come on in".
The line is from Shel Silverstein’s poem, Invitation, as published
in his wonderful book, Where the Sidewalk Ends.
We are to write a piece of Flash Fiction no more that 144 words long,
excluding the title, and MUST use the prompt line as stated.

Image by Gaby Stein from Pixabay 

What Am I Doing Here? – Flash Fiction

What Am I Doing Here?

Opening my eyes I saw sunlight streaking through the blinds.  My heart fell instantly with a thud as I realized I was in the guest room. Again.

The previous day had been fairly uneventful and we had chugged along with the rhythm of two married people who knew each other very well. My husband, needy and bad-tempered due to some physical demands, and me, the enabler.  Most of the time it worked, but on some occasions, particularly when I was tired from giving all the extra attention, that’s when the fireworks fly.

He’d snapped an order at me.  I appeased him and chose to be quiet while I tried to cope with the feelings welling up inside of me.  What am I doing here?   I am miserable but “I prefer keeping in mind even the possibility that existence has its own reason for being.”

Copyright © 2021 Christine Bolton – Poetry for HealingAll Rights Reserved

Merril is hosting Prosery Monday at D’Verse Poets tonight and has prompted us with the following line from the poem “Possibilities” by Polish poet, Wislawa Szymborska

“I prefer keeping in mind even the possibility that existence has its own reason for being.”

We are to create a piece of flash fiction of no more than 144 words, excluding the title, and include the line in its entirety.

Image by Sh1ra from Pixabay 

Emotional Life Raft

Emotional Life Raft

“Just let me go”, I said angrily as I pushed his arm away and headed down the hallway. 

“Why do you always have to be in control?” I yelled at him slamming the door on his enraged voice.

I need air and space, I thought.  Much space between us.  I can never think straight when he gets so argumentative and demanding.   My back is always against the wall and I struggle to justify my actions when he is firing questions at me.

I went out to the hazel wood because a fire was in my head and it felt like my stack would blow. A gentle breeze through the trees was calming and eventually the flames died down.  I could think clearly once again. 

I walked for what seemed hours.

“Where did you go?”, he asked on my return.

“Anywhere but here”, I replied

Copyright © 2021 Christine Bolton - Poetry for Healing
 All Rights Reserved
Kim, from Writing in North Norfolk is hosting Prosery
at D'Verse Poets tonight.  She has prompted us to write
a story of no more than 144 words to include these lines
from "The Song of the Wandering Aengus" by William Butler
Yeats.

I went out to the hazel wood,

Because a fire was in my head,

You can read the whole poem here

Image by Valiphotos from Pixabay 

The Office – Flash Fiction

The Office

Weary from walking she looked at her watch noting the time was 10:25 PM.  She remembered leaving a little after 9 o’clock.  Exhausted and aching she murmured to herself ‘sometimes the great bones of my life feel so heavy’. She began to cry.

It had been a pleasant day.  She had accomplished a lot, feeling a ‘good tired’, as she liked to say.  Dinner was prepared, the table was set as usual.  She waited for her husband to come home.

He wasn’t usually late without calling.  By 8:00 dinner was beginning to look sad.

He worked nearby so she slipped out the house and started walking to his business.  

She entered the building making her way to his office.  Opening the door she found him at his desk with his assistant on her knees in front of him.  She was not picking up paperclips.

Copyright © 2021 Christine Bolton - Poetry for Healing
All Rights Reserved


Linda from Charmed Chaos is hosting D'Verse Poets
tonight and had prompted us with Prosery which is to
include this line from Spring Azures from the book Wild Geese by Mary Oliver:

‘Sometimes the great bones of my life feel so heavy,’

Image by Gerd Altmann from Pixabay 

At Last – A Dreamer’s Story – Flash Fiction

At Last – A Dreamer’s Story

It was finally here and the magnitude of the moment had not been lost on me.  Yes, I was nervous.  Who wouldn’t be?  It was not every day a woman like me, who had come from such humble beginnings, would now be standing here in these hallowed halls.

As I waited, a strange feeling came over me as if someone else was inhabiting my body.  A weight had been lifted off my shoulders and I felt liberated and strong.  The pit in my stomach magically disappeared and I felt the adrenaline rush of confidence. 

I was meant to be here.  It felt familiar and I knew somehow, inexplicably, that I had stood here in this same spot before.  At this moment, reading what I have just written, I now believe my signature on this document gives me the freedom I have longed for.

Copyright © 2020 Christine Bolton - Poetry for Healing
All Rights Reserved

Lillian is hosting Prosery Monday at D’Verse Poets and has prompted us with a line from Louise Gluck’s Faithful and Virtuous Night – reading what I have just written, I now believe. Prosery challenge is to write no more than 144 words, excluding the title, and use this line from the selected poem.

Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals (DACA). In the US “Dreamer” describes a person who has lived in the US without official authorization since coming to the country as a minor. People of this description who met certain conditions would be eligible for a special immigration status under federal legislation first proposed in 2001. This is a controversial and politically charged subject and Trump has tried to reverse the Dream Act as part of his anti immigration agenda. However, late last Friday afternoon, a federal district judge ordered the Trump administration to fully reinstate the Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals (DACA) program, which allows nearly 700,000 undocumented immigrants who came to the United States as children to live and work there. Courtesy of Vox

Photo courtesy of USA Today

Cry of the Wolf – Flash Fiction – Prosery

Cry of the Wolf

In the still of a moonlit night he lay snug inside his sleeping bag.  His mind wandering back to what had made him to come to this place. Was it to be at one with nature, or just an escape from the madness of the city.  He had felt compelled to return to his favorite place in the forests of northern Michigan.

Here he could breathe and think clearly.  He remembered camping here as a boy with his father who had told him this was a spiritual place.  He didn’t quite understand what that meant but he knew enough to respect the land and the wildlife.

It was at that moment that he heard the wolves cry out.   He remembered the sound and what his father had said.

“Don’t be scared son.  In their dreams they sleep with the moon, not outside our tent”.

Christine Bolton – Poetry for Healing ©

Merril is hosting Prosery Monday at D’Verse Poets and has prompted us with a line from a poem. We are to write a piece of flash fiction of no more than 144 words, excluding the title, and it must include the line below.

“In their dreams
they sleep with the moon.”

From Mary Oliver, “Death at Wind River”

Image by Alexas_Fotos from Pixabay 

A Waste of Time – Prosery

A Waste of Time

We spent a lifetime not even knowing each other.  Spinning our wheels with failed marriages and empty relationships.  Coming from different parts of the world we inexplicably ended up in the same city.  Moving in the same orbit but not connecting until that one special night when we finally met.  I was cynical and you were the perfect gentleman.   We had so much in common and talked into the wee hours sharing stories of world travel.  

We lived the dream until the health scare came.  The focus was no longer on us, but “it”.  It consumed you.  Even when you were made safe and fully recovered, it lived with us.  Haunting me like a mistress.  Now instead of love we are at war with each other.

When it is over said and done, it was a time, and there was never enough of it.

Christine Bolton – Poetry for Healing ©

Merril is hosting Monday Prosery at D’Verse Poets and has prompted us with a line from Allison Adelle Hedge Coke’s poem, “A Time”. When it is over said and done, it was a time, and there was never enough of it. We are to write a piece of flash fiction (Prosery) including the prompt line. Prosery is exactly 144 words excluding the title

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