Category: Flash Fiction

Blog, Flash Fiction

One Moonlit Night – Flash Fiction

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One Moonlit Night

You were young and beautiful, a breath of fresh air, and we all watched you with our jaws on the sidewalk.

Anything was possible for someone like you. So perfect you could hang the moon and the stars.  I was completely smitten and let you wrap me around your little finger.  I would have done anything for you.    

One evening you agreed to take a walk with me along the bank of the river.  That night I shared my true feelings with you, telling you how beautiful you were, and that your eyes twinkled like the stars in the sky.  You laughed in my face.  Your words cutting me like a knife.

In anger I placed my hands around your throat and squeezed until you laughed no more.

That night I dreamt I was the moon and you were the one who hanged me..

Christine Bolton – Poetry for Healing ©

Sarah is hosting D’Verse Poets tonight and she has prompted us with a flash fiction piece of 144 words exactly, using the words I dreamt I was the moon from the poem Full Moon by Alice Oswald.

Blog, Flash Fiction

A Walk in the Woods – Flash Fiction

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Walk in the Woods

Walking slowly through the woods, Jessica was lost in her thoughts. It had been an emotionally driven weekend and she desperately wanted to shake off the remnants of the past two days.  

She stopped suddenly when far away an interrupted cry jerked her out of her reverie. She wondered what it could be.  Perhaps someone was hurt or an animal maybe.

Hearing it again she moved quickly towards the sound.  She had come off the trail and was venturing into the deep forest. The sound was closer now, and as she pulled back some wayward bushes, she saw it. 

There in front of her was a dog tied to a tree.  It was clearly distressed

‘Oh, you poor doggie, who did this to you?’ Jessica said tenderly

‘Get away from the bitch.  Now!’ he said as he pointed the 12-gauge shotgun at her.

Christine Bolton – Poetry for Healing ©

144 words

Bjorn is hosting at D'Verse Poets this Monday and has
challenged us to write some flash fiction - no more than
144 words. It also has to include this line from 
"When far away an interrupted cry"
from Acquainted with the Night by Robert Frost

Word Prompt

Lost

Image by composita from Pixabay
Blog, Flash Fiction

Iced Latte – What Pegman Saw

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Iced Latte

It was 2:45 PM and he was early.  He took a tall iced latte and sat away from the door.  Sitting carefully, he straightened the legs of his freshly cleaned khaki pants.

Flipping through his phone he looked again at her photo.  Pretty, outdoorsy and her profile said she owned her own company.

Looking down again at his pants, he reflected on how many khakis he owned.  Six or seven pairs at least.  It was part of his ‘uniform’.  Each internet date he went on, he dressed the same and always ordered an iced latte. If the date quickly went south, he would cleverly spill the coffee in his lap and make an excuse to leave.

Lost in his thoughts he didn’t see her arrive. She introduced herself and he said “Don’t I know you from somewhere?”  She replied, “Yes I own the dry cleaners on the corner”

Christine Bolton – Poetry for Healing ©

150 words

In response to What Pegman Saw Photo Prompt – Portland, Oregon

Blog, Flash Fiction

Vision in Blue – Flash Fiction

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Vision in Blue

He couldn’t believe his eyes.  It was the most amazing thing he had ever seen. He was in the middle of a forest and the floor was covered in beautiful flowers. There were deer gamboling through the trees and he could hear music.

Walking slowly towards him was a beautiful girl.  Barefoot and draped in a blue dress, a vision of loveliness. Beautiful flowers were in her hair, a stag at her side and she was playing a wooden flute or whistle. He was mesmerized by the sight and sounds. 

As she came closer he stood motionless in a stupor, hypnotized by the scene.

He said to himself in a whisper, ‘Man, these drugs are good.’

Christine Bolton – Poetry for Healing ©

116 Words

In response to Fandango’s Flash Fiction Photo Challenge

Blog, Flash Fiction

The Drop – Songxicun, China

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The Drop – Songxicun, China

The covert message had been decoded.

Friday 16:30: Songxicun, Water Pump.

She arrived early and the square was empty. It was difficult for her to blend in to the surroundings so she stepped into a doorway and waited.

Her contact was late.  When he arrived, she watched him stop and light a cigarette. Drawing on it slowly and inhaling. He looked around and then dropped to tie his shoe.  She watched him tuck something into the wooden box next to the water pump. He stood up, flicking the cigarette away, and left hurriedly.

Looking around she saw an old woman approaching the pump with two pails on a pole balanced across her shoulders.  She waited patiently until it was clear.

Finally, the old woman left and the square was empty again. Quickly, with her heart pounding, she retrieved the small package from the box and disappeared from sight.

Christine Bolton – Poetry for Healing ©

148 words

In response to What Pegman Saw – Photo Prompt – Songxicun, China

Blog, Flash Fiction

The Baths at Virgin Gorda, BVI

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The Baths at Virgin Gorda, BVI

She had risen early, taking advantage of her last day on Virgin Gorda in the British Virgin Islands.  She wanted to go to the Baths before it got crowded with tourists and enjoy the relaxing pools between the enormous rocks.  There was a certain energy in the quiet sanctuary of the water and a calming atmosphere.

The sun was barely above the horizon when she removed her clothes. Leaving them on the rocks she waded into the crystal-clear pools.  The water was refreshing and she dipped below the surface feeling the sensual shock as it consumed her body.  With eyes closed she let herself drift underwater for a few moments holding her breath.  As she attempted to surface, she realized she was wedged between two boulders and could not raise her head above the water to breathe.  She was trapped and no one was there to save her.


Christine Bolton - Poetry for Healing ©

148 words

In response to What Pegman Saw – Photo Prompt, Virgin Gorda, BVI

Word Prompts:

Sanctuary

Barely

Blog, Flash Fiction, Love

Go with the Flow

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Go with the Flow

Love flows like the river
Meandering slowly
and raging rapidly 
Over life’s obstacles
Along the way attracting
insignificant annoyances
and heated arguments
Latching on like barnacles
 
In its wild torrent 
it will break your strength
and splinter hope
Leaving memories that sting
When it is calm and still
At its deepest point
That is where the love is strong
and this is where to cling
 
Unimportant disagreements
Never forgotten in the wake of pain
No longer instrumental
or helpful to your endeavor
Inconsequential debates
and endless contention
Meaningless now
Because love is forever
 
Christine Bolton - Poetry for Healing ©

Word Prompts:

Splinter

River

Instrumental

Memories

Photo by kazuend on Unsplash

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Blog, Flash Fiction, Nature

		
		
Night Sky

		

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Night Sky


Orion straddles the sky

His belt twinkling

In the darkness

Lighting the way

With stars sprinkling


The cheesy moon

Has passed

The halfway mark

A shadow of his smile

Slightly visible in the dark


The stars scattered

Across the expanse, winking

So silent is the night

Giving us pause to wonder

With wishful thinking


The nightly performance

Ensorcelled us with its splendor

The tryst between the stars and moon

A match made in heaven

Magnificent beauty it did render


 


Christine Bolton – Poetry for Healing ©


Word Prompts:


Ensorcell


Tryst


 


Photo by Arnold Dogelis on Unsplash


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Blog, Flash Fiction

		
		
Neighbor

		

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Neighbor


The nondescript neighbor across the street moved today.  Sam saw the moving truck leaving the house as he came home.  He never remembered her name.  In fact he had barely had a conversation with her, other than the cursory “Good morning” if they happened to leave their respective houses at the same time.  It was awkward.  There was something about her that he just couldn’t put his finger on.  She was very attractive but was haughty and aloof.


The first time he met her was when Tom, his neighbor next door, had introduced her the day she moved in to number 2024.  Sam had attempted a friendly inquiring conversation with a “Welcome to Westbrook!  Where are you moving from?”


She had stared at him and he noticed her eyes were a deep cerulean blue. She seemed startled, but recovering quickly she became closed off, almost cold, and made almost no more  eye contact. She offered an excuse and said she was busy with the move and that was that.  Tom and Sam looked at each other and shrugged.  Since that day she had made no friends with anyone as far as he knew.  She kept herself private and non-communicative.


Sam used to joke with the other neighbors that she was likely in the Witness Protection Program or she was on the run from the police.  He couldn’t recall one time when she had attempted to make conversation.


She never attended any of the neighborhood social parties and always kept her porch light off on Halloween so the children never went near her house.  One year the kids tricked her instead and toilet papered her front yard.  No one knew whose kids were responsible and they pretty much left her to clean it up by herself.  Sam felt a little bad about driving off to work the following morning seeing it there but he had a meeting to attend.  When he returned home it was all gone and he assumed she had cleared it up herself or got someone to do it.  He never gave it another thought.


“So she moved out then.” Sam said to Tom who was out in his front yard. He continued, “I sure hope we get someone a lot nicer moving in.  She was a cold witch, don’t you think?”


Tom replied.  “I don’t know about being a witch.  She was never nasty to any of us.  She was just private, you know”


“I guess.” said Sam as he headed to his front door. “See you later Tom”


As Sam put his key in the lock, he looked down and saw a box with an envelope taped to it.  It had his name on it.


He took it into the house and placed it on the kitchen table wondering what it might be.  It was a handwritten envelope and no marking on the box so UPS hadn’t delivered it.


He opened the envelope, which held a card.  He read it.


Dear Sam,


I know you and I have never really had a conversation but I have watched you daily for the past year.  


When I was introduced to you on that day I moved in, you lit a fuse in my heart.  I cannot explain it.  It was incredible and the feeling was very strong, like I had met you before or I had known you in some other life.  I wanted desperately to get to know you but it would not have been fair


I had no close family, having divorced several years ago, and no children.  I was looking for a fresh start somewhere when I got the crushing news.  I was told I was dying and the doctors had given me one year at best. I had already chosen this house before I knew of my illness. I thought it would be a wonderful neighborhood to make new friends. I’m sure it was but I never wanted to be a burden on anyone so I kept my prognosis to myself.


I wish I had known you in this life.  I guess it just wasn’t meant to be.


See you next time around. 


Lori Cooper


Sam felt quite shaken as he put the letter down.  She had died. He was overcome with sadness.  Why hadn’t he tried harder to get to know her? He opened the box and inside was a smaller box in which was a gold heart on a chain.


On a small card it said…


“You stole my tender heart on the day I met you but I had to take it back. I leave you this in its place…L”


 


Christine Bolton – Poetry for Healing ©


Word Prompts:


Neighbor


Nondescript


Fuse


Tender


Cerulean


Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash


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Blog, Flash Fiction

		
		
Lucia

		

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Lucia stared through the window of the beautiful restaurant.  It was 3:00pm and her interview was at 3:15 pm.


This was a big step up from her family’s restaurant in the Bronx.  The Italian Trattoria where everyone from the neighborhood would come. Her grandparents, immigrants from Sicily, had opened the restaurant in the 1930s. Lucia, her parents and three brothers were all recruited into the business. There was no escaping it.   She was the youngest but she became the face of the restaurant.  Her siblings were content to be at the back of the house in the kitchen, but she had always been pushed front and center by her parents and all the patrons knew her. They had known her since she was a child filling their water glasses on a Sunday afternoon.  It had always been this way.  It became known as Lucia’s Bistro.


Now she was a grown woman and had outgrown the family restaurant.  She was ready to spread her wings to the Upper East Side. Understanding all aspects of the restaurant business this was her chance to see how the other side lived.


She entered the restaurant and confidently introduced herself to the Maître d’


Christine Bolton – Poetry for Healing ©


(199 words)


In response to: Flash Fiction for the Purposeful Practitioner Week #32


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