Tag: Flash Fiction

Out of Gas – Flash Fiction/Prosery

Out of Gas

It was already dark as he closed the car door, thankful for the red moon to light his way down the road.  How stupid to run out of gas, tonight of all nights.  Angry with himself for not checking.

This was unfamiliar territory but he knew the road followed the river for miles.  Coming to a crossroads he stopped momentarily. He felt a chill in the air and heard a moan like an autumn wind high in the
lonesome treetops.  The strange noise made him shiver. He was cold, having forgotten to bring a jacket, and the hair on the back of his neck was standing to attention. He moved on.

Feeling a presence, he halted turning quickly, but no one was there.  Looking around cautiously he resumed his walk. It was then he felt the blow to his head and everything went black.

Christine Bolton – Poetry for Healing ©

Lillian is hosting D’Verse Poets Pub tonigh
and the challenge is Prosery (not poetry)
A short story of exactly 144 words excluding
the title and we are to use one of the
following lines from Carl Sandburg’s
poem Jazz Fantasia

"Moan like an autumn wind high in the
lonesome treetops" OR choose 2) "a red
moon rides on the humps of the low
river hills"

Promote Yourself Monday - Go Dog Go Cafe

Image by Robbowolf from Pixabay 

Union Meeting – Flash Fiction

Union Meeting

The hall was crowded and David eased his way towards the stage.  Squeezing through the throng and ducking under the inevitable signs, he found the spot where his view was unobstructed.

He checked his watch noting it was seven fifty, and then patted his left chest pocket for reassurance. He could hear his heart pounding and he began to sweat.

His fellow directors had chosen to boycott the meeting but there was no way he was going to miss it.  

On cue the President of the Autoworkers Union was introduced by the speaker on stage.  He entered to resounding cheers and applause from the members.  Watching carefully David noted no one left and no one came on the bare platform to join the two men.  This was his chance.  Amidst the noise, he pulled the gun from his jacket and fired the deadly shot.





Christine Bolton - Poetry for Healing ©

Sarah is hosting D’Verse Poets tonight and the theme is Prosery. A piece of flash fiction of 144 words or less. She has asked us to use the following line from the poem Adelstrop by Edward Thomas – No one left and no one came on the bare platform.

Words Prompts

Impeccable – RDP

Boycott – FOWC

Image by Nicajo from Pixabay 

Evanescent – Flash Fiction

Evanescent

Theirs was a short, passionate history going back years.  They had been close. So close they could read each other’s minds.  They would often finish each other’s sentences as if they were one and the same person.  Kindred spirits who ran feely with not a care in the world.

Their bond was deep but it was evanescent. It seemed to us that as quickly as it had blossomed, it was over

They say there are moments caught between heartbeats where love lies dormant, sometimes for a lifetime.  All it takes is for that one special soul to find their way in into the layers of our mind and ignite that fiery passion.  

This is how it was for them.  The spark was kindled but they took no care of their fire.  The embers were left dying in the dirt until it burned no more.

Christine Bolton – Poetry for Healing ©


Kim of Writing in North Norfolk is hosting Prosery
at D'Verse Poets tonight and has asked us to write
a flash fiction piece that includes these words from
a Louis MacNeice poem called 'Coda"
There are moments caught between heart-beats’.
Prosery requirement is exactly 144 words excluding the title.

Image by Alejandro Tuzzi from Pixabay 
 
Word Prompts
Evanescent - RDP
History - FOWC

One Moonlit Night – Flash Fiction

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.

Iced Latte – What Pegman Saw

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

Vision in Blue – Flash Fiction

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

The Drop – Songxicun, China

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

The Baths at Virgin Gorda, BVI

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

Neighbor

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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Lucia

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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